three hours before dusk."
* * *
Farther north, Gavin was solving such problems as he could.
"We have two boats. Wounded over, firewood back."
"Yes sir."
Gavin heard the puzzlement, answered it.
"Karls took our beans and beer, left a lot of dead horses. Better than starving.
"Tonio—can your boys get those trebuchets working?"
"Not with what we have. Lots of wood, but too short."
"What about rafts?"
"Rafts?"
"Lots of wood. Can you make a couple of rafts, ropes from one bank to the other, move stuff?"
"Should work."
"Do it. I'm getting tired of this side of the river."
There was a brief lull. Kyro looked up from the tablets where he was trying to keep track of what was left of the army.
"If it works, we're home."
Gavin shook his head. "We still have to eat. A garrison of two hundred doesn't have supplies for five thousand. There should be more wagons coming in but I don't know how many—we've drained this province already. Only supplies I know about for sure . . . The Hetman. Send someone for him."
In the Kingdom's encampment as the sun set, commanders gathered in the King's tent. Stephen summed up the situation.
"Three legions, light infantry, not much else left. The bridge is a mess. Couple of boats. Their supplies are in our camp. If I were Gavin I'd face the facts, abandon everything heavy, run ropes across the river, swim what I could. They'll still have a hungry time of it their side of the river—especially after Egil's finished. Our job's done."
The King spoke.
"You don't think it's worth trying to smash what's left?"
"All respect, Majesty, no. They still have teeth. We might do it, but it would cost. Emperor can find men easier than we can."
A brief pause. Stephen spoke again.
"Feeding an army's expensive. My advice, send the southern