Burning Bridge by John Flanagan Read Free Book Online Page A

“I’ve been thinking…”
    Gilan raised his eyebrows to heaven in mock despair. Again, the expression reminded Will forcefully of Halt. “Always a problem,” said the Ranger. “And what, pray tell, have you been thinking?”
    “Well,” began Will slowly, “this double knife business is all well and good. But wouldn’t it be better just to shoot the swordsman before he got to close quarters?”
    “Yes, Will. It certainly would,” Gilan agreed patiently. “But what if you were about to do that and your bowstring broke?”
    “I could run and hide,” he suggested, but Gilan pressed him.
    “What if there were nowhere to run? You’re trapped against a sheer cliff. Nowhere to go. Your bowstring just broke and an angry swordsman is coming at you. What then?”
    Will shook his head. “I suppose then I’d have to fight,” he admitted reluctantly.
    “Exactly,” Gilan agreed. “We avoid close combat wherever possible. But if the time comes when there’s no other choice, it’s a good idea to be prepared, isn’t it?”
    “I guess,” Will said. Then Horace chimed in with a question.
    “What about an axman?” he said. Gilan looked at him, nonplussed for a moment.
    “An axman?” he asked.
    “Yes,” said Horace, warming to his theme. “What about if you’re facing an enemy with a battleax? Do your knives work then?”
    Gilan hesitated. “I wouldn’t advise anyone to face a battleax with just two knives,” he said carefully.
    “So what should I do?” Will joined in. Gilan glared from one boy to the other. He had the feeling he was being set up.
    “Shoot him,” he said shortly. Will shook his head, grinning.
    “Can’t,” he said. “My bowstring’s broken.”
    “Then run and hide,” said Gilan, between gritted teeth.
    “But there’s a cliff,” Horace pointed out. “A sheer drop behind him and an angry axman coming at him.”
    “What do I do?” prompted Will.
    Gilan took a deep breath and looked them both in the eye, one after the other.
    “Jump off the cliff. It’ll be less messy that way.”

6
    B ARON A RALD SHOVED THE HEAVY PARCHMENT SCROLL TO one side and looked up at Lady Pauline in exasperation.
    “Pauline, do you understand what this idiot is getting at?” he asked. The head of Castle Redmont’s Diplomatic Corps nodded.
    “In principle, I do, my lord,” she said. Arald made a frustrated gesture.
    “Then in principle, please explain it to me,” he said, adding in an undertone, “as if I don’t have enough on my plate planning for war without this sort of nonsense.”
    Lady Pauline suppressed a smile. Arald had a well-known dislike of legal documents with their whereifs, wheretofores and notwithstandings.
    “Sir Montague of Cobram Keep is obliged to supply a draft of four knights and thirty men-at-arms when called upon,” she began.
    “And I take it he is refusing to do so?” said the Baron wearily.
    “Not exactly, sir,” she replied. “He is willing to supply the men. He is unwilling to place them, or himself, under your command.”
    Arald frowned. There was no trace of his customary good humor evident at that statement.
    “But he is under my command,” he said. “Cobram Keep is within the boundaries of Redmont Fief and I am his lord. And commander.”
    Pauline nodded agreement. “Correct, my lord. But he does have a case. A very tenuous one, I must say, but a case nonetheless.”
    Arald’s face, already flushed with annoyance, became a little redder. “How can he have a case?” he demanded. “His castle is within my boundaries. I am the lord of Redmont Fief. He is my tenant. I am his commander. End of story. Ipso facto. Case-o closed-o.”
    “As he sees it, my lord, the whole thing hinges on a treaty signed by his great-great-granduncle and the present king’s great-great-grandfather, when Cobram Keep became part of the Kingdom of Araluen—and the Fief of Redmont. At that time, Cobram Keep was allowed to retain a certain level of