They had puzzled him when he had first arrived at the dock. Now he had someone he could ask for an explanation.
As the priestess stopped beside him, he gestured to the metal things. “What are those paired wheels for?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “Those are bicycles… my lord? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know how to address you.”
He replied, “Commander will suffice. What are bicycles?”
“Bicycles are an Earth invention that work successfully here in Ys. I forgot—there aren’t any crossover passageways in Braugne, are there?”
“No,” he said, his manner turning terse. “Only those who live near a crossover passageway and reap the economic benefits they bring can afford to forget something like that. But we who live in Braugne always remember. The nearest crossover passageway is halfway across the continent from us.”
Her gaze widened with such shocked dismay he felt almost as if he had physically struck her.
“Of course, you’re correct,” she said. “I apologize—I didn’t mean to cause offense. When I was a small child, I lived in an area that didn’t have any crossover passageways nearby either, so I understand what you mean.”
An unaccustomed sense of contrition bit at his conscience. Impatient with himself, he shook his head. “I am the one who should apologize. You didn’t mean anything by your remark.”
“You’re right though. There are three crossover passageways nearby. Two of them lead to France and another to northern Spain, so Calles has a lot of imports from Earth. They have made our lives better in many ways.” She stepped to the nearest metal contraption to lay a hand on it. “Take the bicycle. You sit here, on the saddle, and while you pump these two pedals with your feet, you can steer where you want to go with the handlebars. You have to learn how to balance, so it takes practice at first.”
He watched her closely. Her expression lit up when she was talking, and there it was again, that unusual, even spectacular something. “What interests you about them?”
She brightened further. “Most people can travel farther and faster on a bicycle than they can on foot, and they are far cheaper to own than a horse. It doesn’t get sick, and you don’t have to worry about the cost of feed or if you have enough field to pasture it. This summer the Chosen paid a subsidy to the town blacksmith to make them for some of the poorer farms nearby. When they attach a small wagon behind the rear wheel, they can bring their goods to market in town.”
Ah, yes. The quiet town.
But he would get to that in a minute.
“So, having a bicycle makes their lives better.” He considered the contraptions thoughtfully.
“Yes, and they’re also fun to ride once you get the hang of it. The children love them.” She frowned at the ice-packed dirt road that led into town. “Although they’re not so easy to ride in winter, and the whole of Ys would need to have a far better system of roadways for them to be viable for long-distance travel. Still, bit by bit, we’re working on making the roads around the town better.”
“I see.” She clearly didn’t realize how much she gave away about herself when she talked about a subject she felt so passionate about.
“Perhaps you might like to take a bicycle back to Braugne with you.”
“Perhaps so.” Reluctant to destroy the fragile rapport they had established, he didn’t tell her he had no intention of returning to Braugne anytime soon.
Instead, he turned to Lionel and ordered, “Major, set a watch on the dock and notify me immediately if there’s any movement from the abbey. Jermaine and Gordon, you stay with me and the priestess. The rest of you, return to camp.”
“Yes, Commander,” Lionel said.
As he set a pair of soldiers on watch, Wulfgar turned back to catch the priestess studying him. The icy wind had whipped her cheeks into a pleasing rosy color.
She told him, “If you might trust what I tell you, it would save your men a lot of effort in this cold. Nobody on that island is going anywhere while you’re here.”
“You may be right.” He studied the island with a narrowed gaze. “Or they may change their minds. And my men are not here to be spared any effort.”
At that her expression turned sour, but she shrugged.
Perhaps she didn’t want to destroy the fragile rapport either. Or perhaps it was no matter to her.
Either way, he didn’t think she had meant anything underhanded by her suggestion. It was probably just as she had said. The people sheltering on the island wouldn’t need to come to the mainland for supplies.
From the accounts he had read, the long-dead architects of the abbey had made good use of every inch of land. They would have vegetable gardens, fruit trees, fields of grain, and plentiful water. No doubt farm animals too, at the very least chickens and goats, and probably sheep as well.
The island would be well fortified, and there were only two gateways that offered an entrance through the fortress walls. The first was the public dock they had just left, which was wide enough for three or four barges to dock but too narrow to allow for all of them to unload at once.
In one text he had examined, the writer described a second dock that faced seaward. Smaller and more private, it mirrored the public dock in almost every detail, with a narrow ledge made even more slippery and treacherous by waves from the open sea and a stairway that cut into the cliff that was barred by a heavy, iron-bound door.
A battering ram was useless in those conditions, and even if either of those doors were breached, it would only take a few fighters to defend the stairways. They could hold off an invasion indefinitely while an attacking force would have to contend with the confined space, the narrow ledge, and the sea itself, along with whatever those manning the walls saw fit to throw down on them.
He and his men could climb those cliffs and scale the walls. Braugne was a difficult, mountainous country, and most soldiers were taught how to climb before they reached manhood.
But that kind of climb would be too hard and slow to gain any real purchase in battle. It would involve hammers, pitons, and rope. The abbey had a few blind spots on the towers that faced seaward, but he wouldn’t be able to get enough of his men up the walls before they were pelted with rocks from above, or worse, boiling water or oil. Inevitably, they would be swept into the sea.
Meanwhile, the abbey could survive for years under siege, definitely for far longer than all but the most stubborn of armies.
If they were under siege, they wouldn’t have access to the outside world, either to their precious crossover passageways or to the rest of Ys, and sooner or later, that isolation would chafe. But still, the only thing they were truly vulnerable to was treachery.
And the only way they could be taken was from within.
3
He turned toward Calles. It was time to survey the silent town.
“Come,” he said.