Hilaskos and the Guards had just caught up with him when the starmen’s mortar opened fire. The first four rounds gave Ganton hope the enemy attack would never reach the guns. The fifth round dashed that hope. When the smoke cleared, two of the five guns were overturned, and many of the gunners lay on the ground. Ganton cursed.
“Guards, halt! First Squad go tell the starmen—” Tell them what? Not to kill our own people? “Tell them to be careful. I am going to rally the gunners.” He sent a messenger to Lord Clavell and his Nikeian axemen: rally at once at the banner of the Fighting Man.
“Where will that be, Majesty?” asked the messenger.
“Among the guns,” said Ganton, pointing downhill. The messenger swallowed but his Wanax’s glare froze any argument on his lips. He rode off as Bheroman Hilaskos raised the Fighting Man and the royal party trotted downhill.
They reached the rear of the guns just as the enemy’s foot recovered their courage and came on. The Guards musketeers fired from the saddle, a ragged volley that still couldn’t miss a target the size of the oncoming foot. Their wine-colored tunics identified them as spearmen of Ta-Kartos.
The enemy surged forward, the Guards dismounted to reload, use their bows, or hold horses. Master Gunner Pinir ran about, using a rammer to prod reluctant gunners back to their duties. The gunners seemed more afraid of him than of the enemy.
From behind the enemy’s foot horse archers began shooting. With the short northern bows, few of their arrows reached hostile targets. A good many struck their own foot. The attack wavered again, then wavered still more as the musketeers of the Second Division opened fire.
Ganton’s horse was spent. He dismounted. Moments later he was in the middle of another battle. Enemies were all around him. He drew his sword and lashed out. Lord Rick would never approve. I am no more than a common foot soldier. And who commands now? He tried to hack his way to the rear so that he could return to the command post. There was nothing to be done here.
Hilaskos fought beside him, holding the Fighting Man. A spearman ran at him and thrust him in the thigh. Hilaskos brought the banner pole down on the attacker’s head. A Guardsman cut the spearman down, just as Hilaskos staggered, then fell. A squire ran forward to lift the banner. “Hold it high! You are a knight as of this moment!” Ganton shouted.
More enemies, with swords and ironbound clubs for close work. Ganton’s sword broke on the head of a club but his Guards were all about him, throwing their shields in front of him until they made a wall. Ganton drew his Browning and fired between the Guards’ shields. Five of the enemy went down. Others heard the thunder of the star weapon and held back.
More of the host of Drantos rallied to the Fighting Man, until his friends were causing as much confusion as enemies. Rudhrig brought up the last of his cavalry reserves. They began their advance into the gap, not in a solid line but picking their way forward in twos and threes. With swords and lances they cleared the rear of the guns of enemies, then formed into two columns. One to the left, one to the right, they passed through the guns and into the enemy’s foot.
The Ta-Kartos spearmen were neither armed nor trained as well as Lord Rick’s pike regiments; they could not stand against cavalry and did not. They would have fled, except for their own horse pressing hard against their rear. So most of them died where they stood. Those who did not die under Drantos steel died from the arrows and bullets of both Divisions; the archers and musketeers of the Third had rallied.
At last there was nothing in front of Ganton and the guns save dead men or wounded that the cavalry were finishing off with lance-thrusts from the saddle. Rudhrig had his knights well in hand; Ganton had no fear of their charging too far. When he’d seen Hilaskos bandaged and carried off the field, he remounted and ordered the Nikeian axemen to the right of the Third Division. Their long-handled axes would do well against either horse or foot, as long as the Fourth Pikes did not give up the fight.
The Guards reformed their shield wall. Some time before the low clouds had broken into misty rain. One after another the guns fell silent. Ganton had time to pull out the arrows stuck in his gambeson. None had penetrated the mail beneath. He reloaded the Browning.
The rain would silence guns and muskets alike. Thick smoke from the firepowder lay across the entire battle area. Archers could not see a hundred paces into the gloom, and had no targets.
The battle would be won by whoever could bring home a charge, infantry or cavalry. There could be no strategy, and in this smoke weapons that struck at a distance were useless.
Vothan favors the side with the greatest numbers. Ganton had heard that as a child. Today it might be true.
The enemy trumpets sounded again.
29
Tylara watched the battle until the rain and smoke closed in. Then there was nothing to see.
Balquhain rode up. “Mac Clallan Muir sent me to ask if you know who commands this army.”
“It is certainly not me.” She pointed down the hill into the smoke. “The Wanax Ganton rode that way with the Banner of the Fighting Man half an hour ago. I have not seen him since.”
“I think our father knows this.”
“So do I. Why did he send you here?”
Balquhain shook his head. “You always did know him better than me. But I think he wants you to take command of the army.”
“Take command—”
“Tylara, you are Eqetassa of Chelm and Justiciar of Drantos. The Wanax has vanished. Someone must command—”
“Brother, the knights will not obey me. I am Eqetassa, not Eqeta—”
“Drantos knights would obey you more than me, or Mac Clallan Muir.”
Yatar, is this part of my penance?
“Father says we must do something or the battle is lost.”
Tylara peered into the smoke. The sounds of battle flowed up the hill. Screaming horses and men, the clash of swords and shields, and other sounds she did not recognize. None of them told her what was happening. Just as the weather closed in completely she had seen Akkilas’ forces rally and attack once more. She had no guess as to their progress, but many of them had moved against the weakened Third Division. Without orders the other Divisions will not move. They cannot support each other if they cannot see. We may yet be defeated in detail. Rick says that is nearly always how battles are lost or won.
“He may be right. Do you wish me to command?”
“Mac Clallan Muir does.”
“Then ride to Prince Strymon. Offer to take command of his Division, or to serve him in any other way, and beg him to come here and take command of this army.”
“Tylara—”
“You wanted orders, Balquhain. You have them.”
“You always did get your way. Yes, Sister. As to my squadrons—”
“Send them to me. Tell them to obey me. I have work for them.”
“May I ask what?”
“Balkie, none of us do any good here, and in this rain the guns cannot defend our right flank. I am afraid the enemy will come through there. I will take the clansmen to stopple that hole.”
Balquhain grinned. “Hurrah for Tilly! I’ll tell Father.” He turned his horse, then stopped and looked back. “Tylara—”
“Get out of here!”
“Yes, my lady.”
* * *
The sounds of battle came over the hill. Rick stopped for a moment to listen. “That way!” he shouted. He spurred his horse forward.
“Colonel,” MacAllister shouted. “It ain’t going to do nobody any good to get there with dead horses!”
“Sh—” Rick caught himself. “Right, Corporal.” He reined his horse to a walk. “Who’s got the best mount?”
“You do,” MacAllister said. “Colonel, we’re all wore out, and you got to know it.”
Which didn’t help a bit. Somewhere ahead was a battle. Rick looked at the sheaf of semaphore messages he had received. Tylara’s ransom. Tylara’s release. Strymon an ally. Castle Fasolt taken. And now a battle in the Otta
rn Valley, only that wasn’t in any message. “What in hell is going on?” he said aloud.
“Beats me, Colonel,” MacAllister said. “I just know it’s time to walk the horses.”
“Oh, shit. All right, Corporal.” As Rick dismounted he wished for a Honda Tricycle.
* * *
Tylara waited impatiently for Balquhain’s squadrons. The rain was falling more heavily. It washed away the smoke from the guns, but still she could not see into the valley below. There were no more sounds of gunfire anywhere, but the other noises of battle were undiminished.
Where are the starmen? More important, where was the king?
Hoofbeats. Drumold rode up through the rain. “I’ve brought the clansmen, Daughter. Your brother said you had need for us.”
“That may be. Certainly we do no good here.” She pointed to her right. “There is a gap yonder between the Third Division and the village. Guns were to protect it, but in this rain they cannot fire.”
“Does the enemy advance there, then?”
“Father, I don’t know. I only know that we do no good waiting here, and if Akkilas brings his cavalry through there we are lost.”
“What is the ground there?”
“Solid down the slope. Then mud.”
Drumold grinned. “So they come from mud to face us on solid ground?”
Before she could answer, two of her cavalrymen rode up the slope. They reined up and the older one said, “We have heard horsemen in the swamplands.”
“How many?”
“We cannot tell. The noises of battle are too great. But horsemen are advancing.”
“Well done,” Drumold said. “My lady, should we not go to meet them?”
“Father—”
“Lass, I am Mac Clallan Muir, but you are Justiciar of Drantos. I wait your command.”
She wheeled her horse and beckoned to her light cavalrymen. “Follow me.” She led the way down the slope.
* * *
The sounds of battle grew louder. To hell with the horses. Rick remounted and spurred his mount into a trot. As the slope grew steeper the beast dropped back into a walk. Rick cursed. One consolation. A walk’s easier on my arse than a trot. And thank God Agzaral sent the Preparation H.
A banner showed in the gloom. Green and white, a stylized megaron device—“Ta-meltemos?” He took the sheaf of semaphore messages from his belt pouch and read again. There was no ambiguity.
STRYMON OF TA-MELTEMOS JOINED TO HOST OF DRANTOS AS ALLY
First time I’ve ever worried that somebody cracked the semaphore code. “Let’s go.”
“Who is there?” someone challenged.
“Eqeta Rick, Captain General of Drantos.” And I ought to have your arse for letting me get this close. “Take me to the Wanax.”
An officer rode up hastily. A dozen Guards scrambled after him. The officer stared. “My lord. Your pardon. You were not expected.”
“I sent the message by semaphore.”
“We have received no semaphore messages for two days. Prince Akkilas’ cavalry destroyed the station south of Castle Fasolt.”
“All right. I’m here now. Where is the Wanax?”
The Guard officer turned away, then stammered, “My Lord Rick, we do not know.”
“What? How in hell can his Guards not know where he is?”
“My Lord, he told us to wait, and rode down into the battle.”
“Does he live?”
“We have not heard.”
Oh shit. “Who is in charge here?”
“Prince Strymon, my lord.”
“Take me to him.” Holy shit.
* * *
Rick clasped hands with Prince Strymon.
“My lord,” Strymon began. “I—I am pleased to meet you, and apologize for any trouble I may have caused your lady—”
“We haven’t a lot of time, Highness,” Rick said. “I’ve already heard that Lady Tylara is safe. Now what’s going on here?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re in command!”
“My lord, a quarter-hour ago I was summoned by Lord Balquhain to assume command of the army. It took nearly that long to give Lord Balquhain command of my Division and come here. I arrived to find that the Wanax Ganton is there—” He pointed downslope into the rain and smoke. “I am told that the Third Division is in trouble, but I do not yet know what that means, or what to do about it.”
“Christ on a crutch. Look, can you at least tell me where the Third Division is?”
“At once.” Strymon produced a map from inside his surcoat. He unrolled it. Rain spattered and the ink began to smear.
Rick took the map and tried to orient it. The enemy is that way. Ah. Here’s the ridge we’re on. He turned the map so that it faced the same direction as the terrain. “Third Division. This one?”
“Yes,” Strymon said.
“And the other Divisions? What’s in them?”
Strymon shrugged. “Everything. Pikes, horses, archers—”
“I see.” Damn kid took my lesson in Napoleonic organization too bloody seriously. “But First and Second are intact?”
“First certainly is. I believe Second is as well.”
“Reserves.” Rick pointed. By now the rain had half-washed away the marks on the parchment. “Tamaerthans here.”
“No longer,” Strymon said. “They were brought around to secure our right flank. Your lady and her father lead them.”
“Good.” Okay. Right flank secure. Maybe. No need to ask what’s happened to the guns. In this rain we’ll be lucky if they get off a round every hour. “Highness, you had First Division?”
“Yes.”
“Any action?”
“We were charged by cavalry earlier this morning. The guns dealt with most of it. I took few losses.”
“Have you ever commanded pikemen?”
“Not until this morning.”
Yeah. But as a distinguished ally, you had to have a suitable command. Holding the left flank. “Your orders were to hold?”
“Yes. I would have preferred a more active role.”
“You’ll get it.” He rose in his stirrups. “Ark!”
Passovopolous rode a mule. Nothing else would carry him for long. “Sir!”
“Take the weapons squad down there.” He pointed off to his right. “Go that way and down hill until you get to the village. Get through it and set up the weapons with a good field of fire.”
“Colonel—”
“I know, I know, you can’t see a damn thing. Just do the best you can. You go set up and wait. You’re the anvil. Someone find me a fresh horse. I have to go get the hammer.”
* * *
It took five minutes for the staff officers to find Teuthras and bring him to the rear of the Second Division. Rick kept glancing at his watch. Tylara, Tylara. Are you safe? Where are you, my love? It would do no good to go riding after her. The battle had to be won. I heard she rode right into the enemy lines at Piro’s Hill. Bull shit. She’s not like that. So why do people tell me that?
“My Lord Rick,” Teuthras shouted. “Welcome.”
“Thanks. My lord, what is happening with your Division?”
“Little. We heard sounds of fighting in the Third, but we have had little of the battle for an hour.”
“What are you doing to support Third?”
“What can we do? I have sent cavalry to stand ready in case we are ordered to attack, but—”
“I see.” Shit fire. For years I tried to get them to obey orders and not just go charging off to the thickest fighting. Now we’d have been better off if they’d never learned any discipline. “Thank you. My lord, I intend to send First Division across your front, then pivot and move down toward the Ottarn. We will sweep the enemy before us into the star weapons I have placed near the river village.”
Teuthras grinned widely. “How can we help?”
“Second Division will be vital. As we cross your front, the enemy’s cavalry to the north
east will fall on First Division’s rear. When they do, you must move forward to counterattack and cover us.”
“Ah! Gladly.”
“I will also want your pikemen in the vanguard of that counterattack. It may be that I will assume personal command of those pikemen.”
Teuthras frowned. “I would hate to lose them.”
So you would. You know more about pikemen than any of the other Division commanders. “Belay that. I’ll leave you First Division’s pikes,” Rick said. “What you must do is use the pikes as a walking wall to shield the rear of First Division’s sweep.”
Teuthras looked thoughtful, then grinned. “Aye!” He looked up into the sky and blinked away the raindrops from his eyes. “Alas, we cannot support them properly with archers. But then the enemy cannot attack the pikes with archers, either. Lord Rick—where is the Wanax?”
Beats the shit out of me. “Rallying Third Division.”
“Ah. That’s Ganton. In the thick of the fighting.” Teuthras grinned widely. “I had not heard you would be here, but well come, my lord. Well come.”
* * *
Balquhain’s shout of welcome left no doubt of its warmth. “You have come to take command!”
“More or less. I left Prince Strymon in charge at headquarters.”
“Have you seen Tylara?”
“No, dammit! And I can’t go looking for her until I get things moving.”
“Aye. What must I do?”
Good man. Rick held out the rain-spattered parchment. The ink had long ago blurred to meaningless smears. He pointed to the top left blob. “We are here. We’re going to take your cavalry straight east, across Second Division’s front, then pivot on Second and sweep down toward the river. Lord Passovopolous and the weapons squad are set up there.”
Balquhain frowned. “My lord—will the others not come through the gap I have left and attack the others from behind?”
“I was getting to that. You’re making the sweep with the cavalry. As you advance, leave the pikes behind. Teuthras will add his pikemen to yours. I’m leaving two Star Lords with rifles. That’s more than enough to hold this line.”
Balquhain considered that for a moment. “Especially in this confusion. Akkilas cannot know more about this battle than we do. Good. Another question, my lord. We attack from one side, and drive the enemy toward the river, but what is to prevent them from running east?”
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