"Hear me. I tell you we were just lucky last night. Morris' men might well have held the breastwork if they hadn't panicked. The next time 'round we may not be as fortunate." He fixed Briggs squarely. "What you and the Council have to decide is whether you're willing to do what's necessary to win."
"We're doing everything we can."
"It's not enough. Next time, Morris will doubtless try and land every man he has. When he does, I wonder if this militia will even bother to meet them."
"I don't agree with you there, sir." Briggs was frowning.
"But then I suppose you figure you've got some idea nobody else has thought of yet."
"Do you want to hear it?"
"I'd like to hear it." Anthony Walrond had finished hobbling his mare and stepped next to them.
"All right. First, I say prune out the small freeholders, send any of them home who want to go." He turned to Walrond. "Then get rid of any of the royalists who don't have battle experience. They want to give orders, but they don't know what they're about. The rest of the men don't like it." He paused carefully. "I don't like it either."
"You're presumptuous, sir, if I may say." Anthony glared.
"You may say what you please. But if you don't do something about morale, this war's as good as over."