similar height to the first but was more than twice as thick. Cromwell watched the perimeter guards perched on top of the ramparts as they traced their routes between their allotted stations. Strategically spaced, every twenty or so yards, were flights of stone steps, wide enough for only one man at a time to climb. They were not only a route to the top of the walls, but also a blocking point that one man could defend as any would-be attackers could only climb them in single file.
The gritted mud road cut a straight line between the two gates, but other than that there were no other landmarks to speak of. On either side of the road the land was grassed and away to his right a small herd of brown long-haired dairy cattle grazed, revelling in the sunshine as their tails flicked away the flies that buzzed around them. They were clearly enjoying their surroundings as well as the fresh air.
'Those men must be so bored,' Moore said, looking up at the soldiers on the walls. 'I would hate the drudgery. Day after day, the same routine. At least in the Watch you never really know what might grab you next.'
'Oh, I don’t know,' Cromwell smiled, 'there’s something distinctly therapeutic about polishing all that metal and leather. If you do it right, it's well worth the effort, and it looks splendid.'
'Are you serious, Sir?' Moore pulled a face. 'There are times when I really do wonder what you are thinking. I'm just grateful that the most I have to worry about is whether the men are on time in the morning.'
Cromwell ignored the Sergeant. He had already seen enough of the lay of the land to form a plan for discharging his orders and he set off towards the Outer Gate. 'Follow me,' he said.
'Where to now?' Moore asked. His legs moved as fast as he could as he tried to catch up with Cromwell.
As they approached the gate Cromwell pointed towards a location just inside the wall but behind the sockets in which the portcullis would lock as it closed. 'Get some men and set up a checkpoint here, near the winch house.'
He looked up at the clouds as they passed over head, gauging the likelihood that the weather would remain on their side. 'The wall should give a little protection if it rains, but we look like we'll be alright.' He looked around him, across the road and back to the Inner Gate. 'The Captain's orders are that we don’t let any of the Governor’s men through unless they have a paper signed by their officer. Is that clear, Sergeant?'
'I suppose so.'
'I want the checkpoint set up in the next hour or two,' he said, folding his arms across his chest. 'I’ll be back to inspect it then.'
'How many men should I get?'
Cromwell heard the question and raised his eyes to the heavens. One thing he didn't like was laziness, and if he thought he could get away with it, Moore was one of the laziest, doing anything he could to delay hard work. 'Use your discretion, Sergeant,' he replied. 'I’m sure you can work that out for yourself.'
He commenced his long walk back to the Headquarters but before he had taken twenty paces he looked back over his shoulder. Moore still stood motionless, staring after him. 'Well,' he said, 'carry on, then!'
'I hate making decisions,' Moore said.
The man's words were just load enough for Cromwell to hear, but he ignored the Sergeant and kept walking.
He had reached no more than two thirds of the way between the two walls when he noticed a group of Imperial Guardsmen approaching from the city side, their helmets and breastplates gleaming as they reflected the sunshine. The group stopped close to ten yards away from him and the leader at the front of the pack broke off and approached. The man wore the insignia of the rank of a Lieutenant of the Imperial Guard and Cromwell had an nervous feeling in his stomach.
'Morning Lieutenant,' Cromwell said.
The officer was taller than him, particularly so with his helmet in place and in his armour he struck an imposing figure. A sword hung from his belt and he held it in his left hand, halfway down the sheath to prevent it swinging as he walked.
'What are you doing?' The officer looked Cromwell up and down.
Cromwell was taken aback by the man's tone. 'I have my orders, Lieutenant,' he replied.
'Which are?' fired back the officer.
Cromwell was well aware that he had no obligation to explain himself to the Lieutenant, but equally he did not particularly want to get into any kind of disagreement with the soldier since he was no physical match for him. 'I am to secure the Outer Gate, and check that the Governor’s troops have the appropriate authorities to enter the city.' Perhaps, he thought, a little openness might defuse the tension.
'Well then,' the soldier replied, 'that makes this an interesting conversation.' He undid the buckle of the dispatch bag that hung across his shoulder and reached inside pulling out a piece of paper which he held out in front of Cromwell. 'I am to secure the area from the Outer Wall to the Inner Gate.'
'I have one of those too.' Cromwell reached into his pocket and pulled out the order sheet that Winterburne had given him earlier that morning. He waved it in front of the guardsman.
'Are you seriously challenging the authority of the Imperial Guard, Lieutenant?'
The officer glowered at Cromwell, and he guessed that the man was not accustomed to being challenged. 'And, are you seriously questioning the authority of the Rule of Law, as enforced by the City Watch, Lieutenant?' Cromwell now felt nervous as he wondered how this stand-off could ever resolve itself.
The officer smiled at Cromwell and pushed the sheet of paper back into his bag, threading the leather strap through the buckle and pulling it closed. He turned his back on him and raised his hand to his mouth as he shouted across to the group of six men. 'Corporal! Fetch the Commander!' The Lieutenant turned back to look at Cromwell, 'And double time it!' he shouted, as one of the men peeled off and began to jog back towards the city.
It occurred to Cromwell that perhaps the officer had just called in the heavy artillery and he took his own piece of paper and stuffed it back inside his tunic. His defensive position suddenly didn't feel like such a good one. 'Sergeant Moore!' he called. This would call for some heavy weapons of his own, he thought.
Moore jogged across to join Cromwell. 'Sir?' he asked.
'Can you go to the Headquarters and ask Captain Winterburne to join us please, Sergeant?'
oOo
As Winterburne marched south along the road, he wondered what was going to happen next. It had already been a challenging week and by the look of it that was set to continue. Moore had briefed him on the stand-off between the two men at the South Gate, but that was not what was going through his mind. The last thing he needed was to be hauled in front of the Emperor to explain why the two most senior officers of the city’s peacekeeping forces could not get along and work together.
'How do you think our Lieutenant will be coping, Sergeant?' Winterburne asked.
'Well, he was doing well enough when I left him, Sir, ' Moore replied. 'Although, he did look a bit pale.'
Winterburne smirked as he imagined his Lieutenant standing up to a fully armed officer of the Imperial Guard. Poor Milo, he thought as he walked on, it was hardly a fair fight.
Away to Winterburne's left, the market was in full swing and carts were coming and going as they collected and delivered their goods. On his right was the harbour, and he could smell the salt on the breeze as he passed. He took in a deep breath and wished he had more time to linger around here rather than sort out this mess.
Before too long, he could see the top of the Inner Gate. There seemed to be many more people than usual in this part of the city and Winterburne supposed it was because they wanted to see the Governors and their troops as they arrived for the Emperor’s Feast. People milled around him and several times he had to side step citizens as they fought their way back into the city.
'I'll bang your heads together!'
A woman's voice carried towards him and Winterburne looked towards the source seeing that the woman in question was directing her anger at the two young children accompanying her. They must have been making her day difficul
t for some reason and it crossed his mind that this scene could well be repeated in the audience chamber at the Palace, before the Emperor himself, if this dispute with the Commander's men could not be resolved sensibly.
The South Gate came into view and a sizeable crowd had gathered at the Inner Gate. As long as he had lived in the city it had never ceased to amaze him that the good people of Highport could sniff out a fight whenever and wherever it happened. 'I wonder how many wagers have been made on the outcome of this one?' Winterburne said.
Moore remained silent, with a nervous look on his face, and Winterburne suspected he might even have started his own book if he could have found the time to pass it around his colleagues. He looked back at Moore's face again. Surely not, he thought.
Sure enough, as they came over the brow of the rise, there was Cromwell, standing resolute and unmoving, still facing down the officer. Winterburne marched on, with Sergeant Moore in tow, past the group of Imperial Guardsmen and directly up the road until he reached the spot where Cromwell and the Lieutenant stared into each other’s eyes. At each gate, people had stopped and were looking on intently at the duel of wits, pleased that some free entertainment was forthcoming.
'Have you two not moved?' Winterburne asked, as the two men stood as still as statues. He marched over to Cromwell placing his hand on his shoulder. 'You can stand down now, Lieutenant, ' he said. 'You've done your job, but I’ll take it from here.'
Cromwell visibly relaxed and took several steps backwards. Sergeant Moore joined him at his side, and the two men exchanged nervous glances.
'I understand that we have a conflict of orders here, Lieutenant,' Winterburne said, approaching the officer. Winterburne recognised the man as being one of the best that the Imperial Guard in Highport could offer. He had seen him before and had always thought the man a credit. 'Your name is Rampton, isn’t it?'
'It is, Sir,' Rampton replied. 'I mean no offence, Sir, but my instructions are quite clear and I am only trying to carry them out. The Commander was most insistent that they were discharged precisely, and to the letter.'
'I expect he was,' Winterburne said. 'In fact, I understand he is coming to discuss them with me in person.' He paused, and smiled at the Lieutenant. 'When he arrives I will tell him that I think you’re a good man, Rampton, and I’ll make sure that your Commander is aware that he should be proud of you for carrying out your duty so well.'
The soldier glowed in the praise and seemed to grow by an inch as he pulled himself more upright.
Far to Winterburne's right, drifting across the open grassland between the walls, came the sound of galloping hooves. The noise grew steadily louder and he turned to looked towards the noise. The horse and rider seemed to be enjoying the exercise and it was obvious to Winterburne that the Commander intended to make the most of his entrance. So typical of the Imperial military, he thought, all show.
The horse continued on until it reached the road and Martell pulled it up to a stop a little way away from him. It was a majestic creature, Winterburne had to admit, its powerful muscles showing clean lines that were clearly visible beneath its brown hide.
The Commander passed his riding crop across to his left hand and dismounted, swinging his right leg over the horse’s back in a wide arc before planting it on the ground. He took his left foot out of the stirrup and then walked along his mount allowing his right hand to run along the side of the beast as he walked.
'Good boy,' Martell said, as he placed his face close to the horse’s ear. His hand reached the horse’s cheek and he smoothed it with his palm two or three times.
Winterburne was a little surprised by the show of affection that the Commander displayed. It certainly seemed to