Lada marched over and shouldered her way in. “What is happening?”
Hunyadi looked up, surprised. “There is an armed force of Bulgars coming our way. They are in a canyon. If we let them get out, they can spread and form ranks. Our best option is to ride and meet them.”
“But you do not have enough time to plan.”
“Attack is my favorite form of defense.”
Lada let the phrase turn over in her mind. It reminded her of something. Tohin—the Ottoman woman who had taught her how to use gunpowder in combat. She had spoken of the need to constantly be on the attack so that other countries did not invade Ottoman lands. Push out so no one can push in. A dealer of death, that was what Tohin had said one must become. Deal enough death elsewhere to keep it away from your own home.
“What kind of force?” Lada asked.
One of Hunyadi’s men let out a dismissive huff of air at Lada’s inclusion in the conversation, but Hunyadi answered. “Mounted, heavily armored.”
Hunyadi had some armored men who could meet such a force head-on. But Lada’s men wore light mail, unsuited to direct combat. Hunyadi must have followed her thoughts. “This is not a battle for your Janissaries. I will keep them in the rear.”
Lada bristled. She knew her men were worth twice Hunyadi’s. He would know that, too, were he not so focused on her as a marriage prospect. But she bit her tongue before she could argue. If Hunyadi was engaged in a canyon, and her men were in the rear, it was as good an opportunity as any to flee.
She sighed, feeling these new threads to the throne snap one by one. She was left, as always, with her only thread of power: herself.
They rode fast through flat, open farmland until they came to the threat. Canyon walls rose before them, a narrow gash through a leagues-long line of rocky, steep hills—the only easy passage for mounted troops.
Lada saw immediately why Hunyadi needed to stop the Bulgars before they exited the canyon. Once through, they had a straight shot to anywhere in Hungary they wanted.
Shouts drifted to Lada on the sharp breeze. Hunyadi was riding his horse back and forth in front of his men. A scout appeared, his horse heaving and frothing. Lada saw Hunyadi’s shoulders tense as he listened to the report. He said something, then pointed at her. The scout nodded.
Raising a fist, Hunyadi roared. His men roared in response and charged after him into the canyon.
Had he told the scout to make certain she did not leave? Lada smiled grimly. She would welcome that. She rode to meet the scout. He trembled atop his trembling horse.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Hunyadi asks that you watch. If Bulgars begin to come through, ride hard for the nearest village and get the people out.” He pointed to the east, where Lada could see hearth smoke lazily marking the village’s location.
“Does he expect the Bulgars to break through?”
The man shrugged wearily. “More men than we thought. Too many.”
“Why did he go in, then?”
“If they get through, they will burn the village and take all the winter stores. The people will starve.”
Lada frowned. “But it is one village.”
The man smiled bleakly. “It is his village, though. He grew up there.”
Lada rode her horse slowly back to her men, the information nagging at her. They could leave. No one could stop them. But Hunyadi could have left, too. Regrouped elsewhere. Let one small village fall.
“Damn his honor,” Lada grumbled, staring back into the canyon. Hunyadi’s forces had already disappeared around a bend. It would not be long before they met the enemy. Both would be trapped and constricted by the canyon. It would be a slaughter on both sides.
It was not her problem.
But her eyes went to the rim of the canyon. It would be impassable for heavily armored mounted soldiers. But that did not mean it was impassable for everyone.
She needed an ally. She needed more threads of power. And if she could prove to Hunyadi what she was capable of, then maybe she would have them. She could run—again—or seize this chance.
Lada jumped off her horse and grabbed her weapons. “Dismount! Take everything you can easily carry. Nicolae, take men up the other side in case this one is impassable.”
“What are we doing?” Petru asked, already following her lead.
“We are going to take a look.”
They ran up the hill, scrambling between trees and boulders. Everyone found a different path and fanned out. Lada led the way, running and sliding and climbing. It was not easy going, but they made good time. The sound of men and horses screaming drew them closer to their goal.
Finally, scraped and sweating, they reached the rim of the canyon immediately above the fighting. Both sides had bottlenecked, leaving only a few men in front to fight. When those men died, the next went at it. Lada looked down the Bulgar line. It stretched too far. They could push harder and longer.
Hunyadi was not far beyond the front line. Everyone there would die. He had to know that—had to have known it going in.
But he had left Lada’s men behind. If she had been in charge, she would have sacrificed someone else’s men to wear down the other side. Instead, he had kept them out of the battle with a charge to protect the village if his efforts failed.
Hunyadi had killed her father and brother. Before that, he had been the reason her father ransomed her to the Ottomans. And he had invited her to join his troops with only a marriage in mind. She had every reason to let him die, even if she was grateful he had protected her men. But Wallachia called to her, and she had to answer. How could she win this for him?
“They will all be killed,” Petru said, frowning.
Lada and her men were too high up for accuracy with arrows and bolts. And the Bulgars wore heavy armor. They would waste all their ammunition with very little effect.
But …
“Have you ever heard the story of David and Goliath?” Lada remembered that one. She only really cared for the old stories, the ones about battles and lions and armies. She had no use for Jesus with his parables and healing. She liked the wrathful god, the god of vengeance and war. She picked up a large stone, tossing it in the air a few times.
Lada looked across the canyon at Nicolae. She hefted the rock, then pointed at the rear of the Bulgar line. There was an area of the hill that spoke of years of rockslides—no trees, dirt recently churned up—and at the canyon’s rim a collection of boulders waited patiently for time and the elements to free them.
Lada mimed pushing, then let the rock fall from her hands. Nicolae looked at the boulders. He waved an arm, then ran with Stefan and several men toward the boulders.
Lada waited, Petru crouching next to her. The sound of the battle beneath them was terrible. She had never seen one this big, this close. She watched, fascinated. It was not what she had expected. Her only experience with hand-to-hand combat had been with assassins or in practice. She saw how Hunyadi directed his men, how even from the ground he acted as though he had an aerial view.
She also saw how, in spite of his intelligence, he would lose. He had chosen honor instead of practicality. He should have sacrificed her men to slow the Bulgars, then regrouped elsewhere, ignoring the threat to his village.
But he had not counted on her.
A clatter that shifted to a rumble snapped Lada’s atten tion back to Nicolae’s work. The boulders crashed down, accompanied by a huge plume of dust. The fallen boulders were not enough to fully block the canyon, but they were enough to make it impossible to get more than one man at a time back the way they had come.
Hunyadi looked up. Catching sight of Lada, he shouted something, gesturing angrily toward the rocks. Lada laughed, knowing what it looked like. They had just guaranteed that the Bulgars could only go forward, into Hunyadi.
Lada picked up a rock, so heavy she had to use both arms. Then, with a loud whoop, she threw it.