Treason, page 15
part #1 of Treason and Truth Series
“Thank you, Sire. I shall try to get it all working within a year.”
“Don’t be too optimistic but thank you. That’s all for now, gentlemen.”
Once in the Outer Office, Rayburn said, “I’m impressed, Captain, and I don’t mind admitting it. If you can spare the time, I’d like to talk several matters over with you. I think your talents could prove indispensable.”
“Certainly, Advisor, though I can’t speak for my talents.”
Richardson, who’d been waiting patiently, said, “Captain, you’ll need this seal to add to documents for the King’s immediate attention. It is for your sole use; do not delegate its application.”
Chapter 26
OF ADVISORS AND OFFICERS
Late Morning
Palace – Rayburn’s Office
SILENTLY, Wynfeld accompanied Rayburn through the Palace, to the latter’s office. When dealing with Adeone directly, Wynfeld knew what to expect. Dealing with Rayburn left him uncertain. The position of King’s Military Advisor was one of the most senior and influential in the empire. Gaining Rayburn’s good opinion was crucial.
Once seated in his modest office, overlooking the Palace Gardens, the advisor said, “I don’t know much about you, Wynfeld. What’s your history? Where have you served?”
“All over the empire, sir. I transferred a few times, so have seen a lot of places.”
“Sounds like you had a past to leave behind,” joked Rayburn.
“Maybe I did,” sighed Wynfeld. “It found me again though.”
“Oh, yes?” queried Rayburn, intrigued.
After a brief silence, Wynfeld admitted, “My Aunt Maria raised me at Macarian House.”
“Curious. I thought nepotism was going out of fashion,” said Rayburn.
Wynfeld chuckled. “I doubt my promotion was my aunt’s handiwork. I tarnished her good opinion of me when I didn’t write for fifteen years; I was surprised Lady Ira was pleased to see me, after that.”
“Hmm. The Queen’s favour will have done you the world of good. His Majesty isn’t prone to giving men of his army second chances. Says it destroys discipline.”
Wynfeld swallowed. “I did offer to resign, Advisor.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that His Majesty paid you a rare visit, normally reserved only for long-standing officers. That has got you noticed more than the ineptitude. Now, you seem to have formed your intriguing ideas for your regiment’s restructuring very swiftly.”
“I had to do something. The regiment isn’t effective and we need to be. We can’t fail again.”
“No, it would not be wise.” Rayburn poured two drinks and put one by Wynfeld’s hand. “Fitz came to see me before he left. Said he was worried some of the men might undermine you just because they didn’t know you. He had a strong grasp on what motivates men. Was he right?”
Wynfeld picked up his drink. “Why do you wish to know?”
“I’m an advisor. Advice is what I do.”
“Advice for whom?” enquired Wynfeld.
“Ah, you think I will run to the King. I do not habitually do so. I am a man who collects information so that I am better able to advise the King. I do not, however, tell His Majesty everything I discover. If you’re undermined, your reforms will be less successful, which weakens His Majesty’s position; therefore, if you wish to talk things over with someone who is not your commanding officer, I am willing to listen for you also should not be talking them over with any of the men and as to your fellow captains, shall we say there are several I wouldn’t trust to walk in a straight line when sober?”
Wynfeld snorted. “There are certainly those, sir.”
Rayburn let the silence mature.
Eventually, Wynfeld said, “I’ve threatened to post Jones elsewhere.”
“Yes, that was one name that came up.”
Wynfeld sighed. “I tried to talk things through with him, to get some sort of order. Not everything, but trying to determine where we went wrong. He blocked every suggestion, every option. He certainly doesn’t like people from the provinces and he didn’t get much better when I pointed out that I grew up here.”
Rayburn snorted. “Fitz did say that he would make a good captain if he could learn to take orders.”
Wynfeld chuckled. “Ah, well, maybe that’s where I go wrong.”
“You take orders, Captain. You just bypass your traditional commanding officers. General Paturn may want a word with you. He is traditional and won’t have liked the fact you circumvented his command, but he won’t interfere now you have the King’s word. He will, however, remember. You said you’ve threatened to post Jones elsewhere. Did you mean it?”
“Yes. If you don’t mean it, there’s no point making a threat.”
Rayburn snorted. “I agree. You should always be prepared to carry through. In fact, I would take the earliest opportunity you can. For one thing, he will stop undermining you; for another, you’ll have an informant elsewhere in the empire to start a new network but don’t post him, second him. It gives you more options. Once Jones is gone, the other men may start conforming. Not only because he’s gone but because you’ll have proved you’re up to the job and will take difficult decisions. Leading is about being fair but firm.”
“Aye, I know. I’ve had my fair share of poor captains to explain how not to do it.”
“Yes, I can imagine you have. His Majesty has been far more open to promoting men from the ranks than any monarch in centuries but that hasn’t stopped the purchase of commissions. It’s dangerous. Not only can idiots buy them but so can traitors.”
“Most traitors are idiots,” said Wynfeld without thinking.
Rayburn laughed. “There is that.” He considered Wynfeld for a few moments before saying, “You’ll be fine, Captain. More than a match for idiots of all varieties. Do you have a couple of hours now?”
Wynfeld shrugged. “If I can help with anything, of course. I was only going to depress my sergeants.”
“I’m sure they’ll be glad of the respite. I’d like to introduce you to a few of my colleagues and the Court. There’s ample opportunity there for finding idiots, but the contacts might help you. I’m not sure who’s presiding, but I’m sure they can’t object.”
Lord Ryson looked quizzically at Rayburn as he introduced Wynfeld before glancing at the captain. “Welcome to Court, Captain Wynfeld. Advisor Rayburn can explain the rules if you don’t know them. I’m sure you’re not going to cause any trouble so please don’t prove me wrong.”
“I’d need orders before causing trouble, my lord,” replied Wynfeld.
Ryson snorted with amusement, glanced at Rayburn and left.
Rayburn was chortling to himself. “You’re going to be fine. Who is here? Ah, Advisor Vanval, might I introduce Captain Wynfeld. It’s his first time here. I’m sure you’ve plenty you can tell him.” He turned to Wynfeld, “Vanval is the King’s Court Advisor. I’m sure he’s here to keep an eye on everything rather than just enjoy the wine.”
A grey-haired man in his late fifties, nodded to Wynfeld. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Rayburn will have his jokes.”
Wynfeld returned the pleasantry, adding, “I’m sure to be on the receiving end of them as well, sir. Is the wine worth the joke?”
“Oh, definitely,” said Vanval pleasantly. “The King’s vineyards are rightly well-renowned. What brings you to Court?”
“Advisor Rayburn,” replied Wynfeld seriously.
Vanval chuckled. “Yes, but other than that?”
Rayburn who’d waved over a server, passed Wynfeld a goblet, smirking. “He’s stepped into Fitz’s shoes at the barracks, Vanval.”
“Ah,” said the older gentleman sagely. “That explains everything. Let’s see how I can help.”
Chapter 27
SERGEANTS’ BRIEFING
Afternoon
Wynfeld’s Office
THE WALK BACK TO BARRACKS had been refreshing. On entering his office, Wynfeld sent for the duty sergeants. There was no point wasting time now he had permission to start. Sergeants Escott, Beaver and Jones, along with three others, reported, if not promptly, at least quickly. He outlined the plans regarding duty time and civilian dress, adding it was to be implemented immediately.
Predictably, Jones interrupted. “Hang on, sir, ‘with immediate effect’?”
“Yes, Jones. Our King wants to see this in place as soon as possible.”
Jones didn’t hold back. “The King, or you, sir?”
“Does it matter? Either bloody way, it is an order from an officer.”
Escott spoke up, “We recognise that. We’d just like to have been consulted. We’ve worked fine for the last few decades—”
“Really? Is it ‘fine’ that there has been an attack on our King’s life that not one of you has found out about? No, it’s not. It’s not ‘working fine’ when that is the case. Now, if you don’t want to find that we’re all posted to the far-flung corners of the empire, start listening. This regiment is the laughing stock of His Majesty’s closest advisors and rightly so. I’d rather not continue to be that and have promised His Majesty that we shall no longer collect information in the cack-handed manner which seems to have ‘worked fine… for the last few decades.’ Any objections?” (A couple of the sergeants opened their mouths.) “No? Good. Now, you’ve all volunteered to be the first units to change to the new regime. Talk to the men under your command. I want a list of their informers and I want them to pass you as much information on those men as possible and the last pieces of information gleaned from them—”
“Would that be another report, sir?” sniped Jones.
“Let me finish! You’ll be collecting the information in the morning when there will be a clerk apiece to help. So, don’t worry, you won’t have to wonder about the spelling of ‘Oedran’ or ‘street’ anymore, Jones.”
“Right, sir. How do you spell tyrant?”
“Get out!” As Jones left with a defiant stare, Wynfeld asked, “What is his issue?” for appearance’s sake.
“He was tipped as the next captain, sir,” replied Escott.
“Then, here’s a tip for you all – of slightly better premonition – I’m Captain of Intelligence and I will be getting this regiment up to scratch. Have you got that?”
There was a sensible chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’
“Good. I am sorry people were passed over when our King gave me this commission but I received it for a reason. Now, I am not going to have to inform His Majesty that my sergeants are in mutiny over the proposed changes, am I?”
“I hope you’re not, sir, but it wouldn’t necessarily be us you understand. The men like their traditions.”
“I know that, Escott, but I’m trying to ensure we regain our reputation.”
Sergeant Beaver said, “Sir, I’m not opposed to the change, I’m truly not. I think it could be good for us all, but what do you ultimately envisage this regiment to become? I think you’ve got some plan in your mind; might we know it?”
“I plan for us to be effective. The next part is to increase our informers. I want every man in this regiment to run at least five and to partner with another man in the regiment. So, the men will be working in pairs and have ten informers, minimum. For five, one man leads; for the other five, the other man leads, but it should mean that if we lose a man, we don’t lose the informers. Any questions?”
“Even the sergeants, sir?” queried Beaver.
“Yes. You’ll partner up with one of the men though, not each other. Now, talk about this only amongst yourselves for now. I’ll inform the other sergeants as and when they come on duty. That’s all.”
The remaining sergeants saluted and left. Wynfeld thought for a moment. Jones had played straight into his hands. He waited for a minute, yelled for Drave, and two moments later Jones was standing at attention in front of his desk.
“Sergeant Jones, your insubordination isn’t helping your career. I have a transfer form to hand.”
“Really, sir? I can’t see you signing it. Men wouldn’t be happy.”
“Let me make this clear to you, Jones, neither you nor the men run this regiment.” With that, Wynfeld pulled a transfer slip from a drawer and filled it out before silently signing it. He called for the corporal. “See that gets to the General today, Drave. It’s at Sergeant Jones’ request.”
The corporal took the proffered form and left.
Rather red, Jones growled, “I didn’t request it!”
“Yes, you did, by being insubordinate. I was kind, I posted you to Garth. Bayan’s city isn’t so different from Oedran. I shall, however, be speaking to your new commanding officer and making him aware of why you’ve been posted. You can go.”
Jones went to say something, then his features set and he left. He tried to see the General who happened to be too busy. When Paturn saw the form, he signed it and sent Jones his marching orders. The sergeant was out of the barracks by the following morning and, despite his prediction, the men didn’t mutiny.
By the time Jones left, three clerks had reported for duty, all unnerved to be working with the militia under Wynfeld’s direction. Normally civilians and the army stayed separate.
Wynfeld had decided to treat them much as he would anyone else, but by asking and explaining rather than ordering. Part of the agreement had included him moving offices to allow the clerks access to the records. A unit from a different regiment emptied a storeroom on one side of his office to provide him with an office.
The speed of the changes intrigued the clerks; used to working in a highly bureaucratic environment – where it took weeks for anything promised to be talked about again – it came as a pleasant surprise.
By the end of the morning, they were all ensconced in their new rooms. Wynfeld had a doorway made between his old office and his new one but the carpenters couldn’t fit a door for another day. He listened as the men started giving the clerks up-to-date information. Some forgot the door wasn’t there and discussed the new arrangements. A couple even admitted they’d spotted loopholes. Working silently in his office, Wynfeld smiled to himself. He’d left those loopholes to help the transition. He’d close them gradually if necessary.
He promoted one corporal to sergeant to help morale but didn’t promote anyone to corporal. He’d keep an eye out throughout the barracks. In the officers’ mess that evening, it was clear his fellow captains weren’t sure what to make of him anymore. Ignoring the unease, he entered into a conversation with the training captain.
Chapter 28
JONES IN GARTH
Imperadai, Week 19 – 18th Meithal, 4th Meithis 1209
Bayan – Garth
MARCHING THROUGH ANAPARA AND BAYAN, Jones cursed Wynfeld with every step. The woods, fields and rivers of the rolling countryside didn’t distract him; he was a city boy. The wide expanses of countryside and sky made him bilious. He muttered to himself that Wynfeld had had the gumption to post him, him to the other side of the empire. Grouching over events, he cursed that he had to babysit raw recruits with another sergeant. He should have been a captain. Why the King had promoted Wynfeld, he would never understand. Eventually, his companions gave up trying to make conversation, which was fine by him. It was a shame that his fellow sergeant was so conscientious about their stops being in guarded locations: forts or major mail lodges. Disappearing into the morass of the empire at night wasn’t an option.
When they reached Garth, the capital of Bayan, shock ran through him. The towers, minarets and spires of the city certainly looked very different from Oedran. Evidence of empire was non-existent and Jones began to wish he’d deserted on the march. Terrace after terrace of buildings reached up to the citadel; their multi-coloured spires and minarets twisting and turning as they sought the sky; high above the streets sky-bridges, their undersides painted in many colours crossed from one building to another.
Wrapped up in the injustices of his posting, the beauty and splendour of the proud city completely escaped Jones’ attention.
He reported to the fort in a bad temper, which only got worse when his new commanding officer said,
“I hear you’ve been annoying Wynfeld, Jones. My old sergeant certainly knows how to return the favour, I must say. Seems he did learn something.”
Jones swore, not audibly, but well and truly cursing. His grievance had been silenced before it had been heard.
Two days later, Sharparu pulled him once more into the office saying, grimly, “I’ve received orders concerning you. Seems you’re not here to help me. You’re to be allowed time in the city and access to the highest in Garth society. Any idea why, Jones?”
His mind raced. It could only mean he was needed to spy. “Not really, sir. I’m sure everything will become clear in time.”
“Oh, most likely. When you have remembered what your orders from Wynfeld were, let me know. I’ll have something to say about them as your commanding officer.”
He took a split-second decision on how to play the situation. “Yes, sir. I’ll take my off-duty time same as the other men. I think Captain Wynfeld might be having a joke at my expense, sir.”
From a dim corner by the door, a man said, “Really? My information is that Wynfeld rarely jokes. Captain, that is all for now.”
Sharparu saluted and left without a word. The man walked over and seated himself. His tunic’s blue stripes indicated an important lord, the narrow red band on his clothes marked him as a King’s Representative. This had to be the Exarch – Governor of Bayan – Lord Tyler Galwood, a distant cousin of the King.
“Why did you just lie?”
“I’m sorry?” asked Jones, unnerved by the scrutinising gaze.
“You know who I am, please address me correctly or I’ll have you posted to a really remote fort.”
