by John F. Carr
“Let us hope Zythannes’ deeds match the ferocity of his words.”
“Nobody’s that good!”
They both sniggered.
“On the other hand,” Soton added, “if they don’t, well, accidents have been known to happen in the midst of battle.”
They both grinned at each other.
“I’m off, Captain-General Phidestros. May Styphon’s Will be done.”
“So be it, Grand Master. Kill some Hostigi for me!”
Captain-General Mythross pulled up beside him as Soton wheeled and rode down hill. Styphon’s House had been generous, not only with food and gold but with Styphon’s Own Guard as well. Almost half of all the Temple Bands, about nine thousand men in all, were under Mythross’ command. Another eight bands accompanied Roxthar’s Investigators, which were now acting as a rear guard. If the Grand Host lost here, there would be little military resistance to Kalvan from Styphon’s House.
Phidestros grinned; he liked playing for big stakes.
“Not that I would question the wisdom of your orders, Grand-Captain General, but is it wise to place my entire command at the center behind the Sacred Squares? Might they not be better employed supporting the Grand Master or as an anchor for Marshal Zythannes’ wing should his resolve melt in the heat of battle?”
Phidestros carefully studied Mythross’ face for duplicity. Unlike Grand Commander Xenophes, he had served in the ranks as a mercenary for twelve winters and risen as high as Captain-General on his own merit before committing to the Temple Guard. However, like Xenophes, he was known to have Roxthar’s ear and should this battle be lost his support might be all that would save him from the Investigation. Phidestros judged him sincere.
“I have complete confidence the Sacred Squares will hold the center. On the other hand, I am concerned about the steadfastness of these Ros-Zarthani, who have little experience facing cannon and salvo fire. I would like Styphon’s Own Guard to be near at hand should heart leave them in the heat of battle.”
Mythross answered him with a toothy smile. There was little love shared between the Temple Guardsmen and the Holy Order of the Zarthani Knights, since both bodies viewed themselves as the martial arm of Styphon’s House on Earth. Mythross would pray on his knees all day for a chance to save Soton’s bacon from Kalvan’s troopers.
“You may well prove to be the right foil for the Daemon’s witchcraft.” Phidestros took that as a high compliment, coming from the commander of the Red Hand. He pointed down at the forlorn hope, the forward arquebusiers and skirmishers, who were already within range of Kalvan’s army. “As long as they are properly used, it is the common soldiers who will win this war for us.”
II
General Hestophes bit down on the end of his pipe as he watched the three Hostigi batteries tear gaping holes in the advancing Styphoni horse. For a moment his view was obscured as the wind changed and a cloud of gray smoke drifted between him and the front lines. Then just as quickly it was blown aside by the wind and he could see a banner-bearer, with the Princely flag of Arklos, blown off his horse.
One of the commanders, smarter than the others, had sent mounted arquebusiers and some of them dismounted and began shooting at the Hostigi gunners. A score of Hostigi riflemen returned fire with a vengeance and within moments most of the Harphaxi dragoons were down. One forward surge of mercenary cavalry swarmed over a four-pounder and its crew, then everyone disappeared in a great cloud of smoke as someone blew the gun.
“By Styphon’s Beard, there’s a gunner who should have been a cavalryman!” Captain-General Pylonnos shouted. Pylonnos was commander of the Kyblosi Army since Prince Tythanes had never fully recovered from the gut wound he suffered at the Battle of Chothros Heights.
Hestophes said a quick prayer to Galzar, asking that the valiant Hostigi gunners, who had blown up their own gun to keep it from being captured, be given a place of honor in Galzar’s Great Hall.
“When do we sound the retreat, General?” asked the head musician.
The Royal Batteries were firing irregularly now, but they still tore ragged gaps in the swirling Styphoni cavalry.
“Not yet.” Hestophes turned to one of his aides. “Colonel Sythros, fire the rocket. It’s time for our surprise!”
“Yes, sir!”
The rocket banged and sputtered upward in a zigzag.
“Now!” he cried, and his trumpeters sounded retreat.
The Hostigi infantry and cavalry of the right wing beat a hasty retreat. Only the officers knew about the ‘surprise,’ but Hestophes suspected, by the way the troopers wheeled their horses, that most had learned of the plan. He didn’t really care, since it was obvious by the way the Styphoni were beginning to boil after the retreating Hostigi that they didn’t have a clue as to what was coming.
The big guns were quiet. The artillerymen had been given orders to halt firing and run for cover upon hearing the trumpets call. For the first time in a candle, the swirling white and black smoke began to clear.
Suddenly there was a great boom, as if someone had smashed a war hammer into his helmet. The earth shook! Water and earth exploded over the top of the hill.
Hestophes had to grip his reins with all his might to keep his horse from bolting. Others weren’t so lucky and found themselves heading directly toward the descending wall of mud, rolling trees and raging water. He said a quick prayer to Galzar when he saw the muddy wave slam into the Styphoni line, throwing horses and men aside like tiny dolls. Many of the men went down to stay, weighted by heavy armor or pinned beneath their horses. Others climbed trees or dragged themselves up out of the muck that was left behind by the quickly receding wave of muddy water.
Almost as fast as it had begun the flood passed, leaving the ground a sodden mess of dead, wounded and dazed troopers. The waters lost most of their force by the time they reached the Holy Squares, sowing more disorder and confusion than death. However, at least a third or more of the entire Styphoni wing was either dead or down.
Hestophes dropped his arm. Trumpets shrilled and the ground trembled to the drumbeat of thousands of galloping horse hooves. The iron men of Ulthor and Old Hostigos on their beer-wagon destriers were in the front rank and they smashed into the churning mass of panic-stricken Styphoni horse. Men cried, horses shrieked, pistols banged.
The Ulthori heavy cavalry, followed closely by the King’s Heavy horse, the Royal Lancers and the Nostori Princely Bodyguard, drove a wedge into the fleeing Styphoni light cavalry. The Styphoni horse tried to turn and retreat only to find themselves forced into the muddy ground, riding over their own wounded and dead, or pinned by the front ranks of their own infantry battle-line, the Holy Squares.
The only way out for the cavalry was to the left, skirting the edge of the Styphoni flank. Those soldiers who were at the flanks tried to move aside. Most of the infantry, however, were trapped between the retiring horse and their own advancing ranks: a vice grip pressed tight by the slowly advancing juggernaut of Hostigi men-at-arms.
In the ongoing melee the Styphoni horse, most armed with empty pistols and swords, were severely out-weaponed and out-armored by the Hostigi, who had lances, big sabers, maces, hammers and full or three-quarter armor. This was the kind of fighting these armored lobsters were designed for and the Styphoni retreat quickly turned into a full rout. Hundreds of Styphoni troopers were spitted or thrown from their saddles as they turned and tried to follow their fellows in escape.
Soon there was a steady stream of riders moving to the left flank and escaping. Hestophes was appalled when the Ulthori iron hats followed in pursuit. Hestophes signaled the trumpeters to call a halt.
The Ulthori heavy cavalry acted as if they were deaf and continued their pursuit. The Royal Heavy Horse appeared to halt momentarily, but were spurred on by the charging Ulthori Bodyguard, resplendent in their silvered armor and green plumes.
“Pylonnos, stop those iron heads! Bring them back here where they can do some good.”
Captain-General Pylonnos
smiled, as if he wished he were at the head of his charging Lifeguard, running down the routing Harphaxi horse. “I will try and regroup them. Then, by Galzar, we’ll hit the Styphoni curs on the flank!”
“Not unless you catch those fatherless sons of a Beshtan harlot! I fear the Styphon’s Own Lot of them will be in Sask before nightfall.” This was exactly the kind of disaster that Kalvan was always warning about. Now it had happened to him, and despite the destruction of the Styphoni left wing, he knew he’d hear about it for years to come. The only good news was almost all the cavalry of the Styphoni left wing were either dead or in an uncontrolled rout.
At least Hestophes still had one Royal regiment, the First Royal Carabineers, and three thousand Nostori and Saski cavalry in reserve; more than enough cavalry to hold off the Styphoni reserve and to keep the remaining Harphaxi horse from out-flanking his infantry.
The Ulthori skirmishers were already busy cutting the throats of fallen Styphoni and stripping the bodies for loot. The foot of the Holy Squares were milling in confusion as their petty-captains tried to reform ranks, which had been disordered by the flood, wounded horses or panic-stricken troopers who had preferred riding down their own men to facing the Hostigi devils.
One Ktemnoi band, flying red and black colors, reformed and fired a half-hearted salvo at the Hostigi looters. Hestophes gave the trumpeter the signal to recall the skirmishers to their ranks. After an eighth of a candle, the call for General Advance was given.
Most of the arquebusiers had returned to their ranks, but some were too blood-crazed or greedy and were churned into the ground by thousands of their own charging pikemen.
It was a tactic Hestophes wouldn’t have even considered with Kalvan’s Royal Musketeers, with their puny bayonets. The push of pike was a tried and true tactic Hestophes knew and trusted. Let the others try their luck with dagger-pointed muskets. It wasn’t for him and he was glad that Great King Kalvan had put the Royal regiments of foot at the center and left wing.
If Hestophes had been the Styphoni commander, now would have been the time to commit his reserve; instead, the Ktemnoi commander turned with his bodyguard, joining the retreating cavalry and jamming his own lines! Hestophes punched the air with his fist. The Ktemnoi Captain-General either distrusted his own reserve, or was reacting in blind, cowardly panic. The Ktemnoi, before Kalvan’s arrival, were considered the best soldiers--man for man--in the Five Kingdoms; it appeared their commanders were only good when winning. Losing was a new lesson they were learning under the tutelage of the Hostigi hammer.
The Ktemnoi Holy Squares, unaware that behind them their own commander was fleeing from the battle, fired a few very ragged salvos at the charging Hostigi and then attempted an undisciplined countercharge with their own bills. The two lines met with a shock of impact that jarred the very ground. But, when push came to shove, pikes had the advantage over bills. If the two lines came to a halt, the billmen had the advantage since they could run down the files and attack the front lines of pikemen with their billhooks. Here at Ardros Field the disordered Ktemnoi were unable to halt the Hostigi pikes and were ground into hamburger by a forest of unstoppable pike heads.
As the center of the charging Hostigi pikemen began to push into the Ktemnoi center, General Hestophes ordered his remaining cavalry to swing around the Styphoni left wing, to encircle the center and force the enemy right to flee. With Hestophes and his bodyguard at the fore, the Hostigi horse thundered down the hill running down fleeing enemy foot soldiers, suddenly catching up with the retreating Hos-Ktemnoi commander as he tried to escape. Hestophes and his bodyguard were the first to reach the enemy commander; they pulled out their horsepistols and sabers and charged into the retreating enemy leader’s party. He had the joy of shooting the Ktemnoi popinjay in the back of his silvered and brocaded armor, knocking him off his mount. If Kalvan can hold the center, Hestophes thought, this battle is as good as won!
III
Phidestros watched with shock as the hillside exploded and a huge brown wave of mud and death washed over his left wing. Entire regiments disappeared beneath the boiling wave never to appear again. Some survivors clung to trees or tried to bull their way out of the mud. Three or four thousand men, and twice that of horses, dead--in the blink of an eye! The entire battle could be lost if the Hostigi could fully exploit the collapse of the left wing’s forward elements.
With mounting frustration he watched as the Hostigi heavy horse followed the mudslide with a charge into the chaotic melee, destroying the surviving regiments in detail as they tried to flee from the field of battle. Kalvan’s flood had broken their morale and it would take a miracle to save the left wing from a complete rout.
His first thought was to commit his own cavalry reserve. Then his better judgment prevailed. The most his reserve would accomplish would be to pad the butcher’s bill.
The Royal Lancers demonstrated no judgment at all when they saw their fellows being ridden down by the Hostigi cavalry. Only Phidestros’ threat to have Mythross’ Temple Guardsmen shoot them out of their saddles had kept them from rushing pell-mell down the hillside to a vainglorious death. Being shot by mere infantry qualified neither as glorious nor a grand gesture. So the Lancers had stayed put under loud and strenuous objection. After the twentieth complaint by some minor Harphaxi noble, Phidestros almost wished they had forced his hand.
While the Great Host’s left battle was in serious trouble, the same could not be said about the center or right wing. At the center the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos held Kalvan’s musketeers at bay despite grievous wounds made by continuing Hostigi artillery fire. Phidestros’ own two batteries were still returning fire at twice the rate of the Hostigi, but they were outnumbered by the Hostigi guns at better than three to one.
Phidestros had been forewarned that Kalvan had eliminated most of the pikes in the Royal Army. He had tried to take advantage of that by having the Ktemnoi and mercenary horse charge the Hostigi center. Kalvan’s artillery had performed as a meat grinder on the charging cavalry and Phidestros had been forced to recall the charge before more than a handful had reached the enemy musketeers. Still, he had a hunch that Kalvan’s over-reliance on his musketeers was a vulnerability he could exploit. First, he had to somehow neutralize Kalvan’s big guns. To do that, Phidestros was using the best infantry he had, man for man, as cannon fodder. The ground gained by the Sacred Squares was costing hundreds of lives, but if he could force Kalvan to withdraw his mobile batteries, or even better let the Sacred Squares overrun them and then turn them on the Hostigi--this battle could be won.
On the right wing the Ros-Zarthani had been slow to start, but now it appeared their cavalry was making real progress. Their mounted archers had already neutralized about ten of Kalvan’s guns. The foot, behind two-man shields, were moving slowly and inexorably, despite horrible losses from cannon fire, toward Kalvan’s forward mobile guns.
Phidestros watched through the farseer in amazement as one troop of silver-scaled cavalry advanced obliquely on one of Kalvan’s mobile field pieces. Ignoring heavy musket fire, the Kataphracti (as Zarphu called them) threw javelins at the gunners who were trying desperately to slew the gun around. The Kataphracti were the Ros-Zarthani light cavalry and each one carried a sword and four javelins. He watched as the forward regiment threw flight after flight of javelins at the Hostigi gunners, finally killing most of them and forcing the rest to retreat under a hail of spears. Moments later the Kataphracti dismounted and, despite heavy musket fire, destroyed the wheels of the artillery carriages with sledgehammers and set the carriages on fire with turpentine.
Phidestros hooted with amazement as he watched Kalvan’s gunners turn tail and run!
A guard unit of halberdiers countercharged the Kataphracti and were sent scattering by a squadron of the Ros-Zarthani heavy cavalry, the Klibanophoru. The Klibanophoru wore scaled armor, as did their horses, and fought with bows as well as lances. A nearby gun took out half-a-dozen Klibanophoru, but they quickly regrouped a
nd charged the firing gun. This artillery piece was much closer to the Hostigi forward line and the charging Ros-Zarthani disappeared into a churning sea of muskets and halberds never to reappear.
By Styphon’s Beard, maybe we can win this battle!
“How fares Styphon’s Battle, Captain-General?” a familiar rasping voice asked.
He turned to face Archpriest Roxthar with three of his white-robed Investigators and a score of red-caped Temple Guardsmen.
“Grand Master Soton told me you would not be interfering in this battle, Your Holiness.”
Phidestros could hear the sound of Roxthar’s grinding teeth over the battle clamor.
“I am not here in an advisory position, Captain-General, but only to witness Styphon’s great triumph.” His eyes told a different story.
Keeping his temper under tight rein--after all, it did not pay to antagonize the most powerful priest in Styphon’s House--Phidestros bit his tongue. “As Styphon Wills. We here are but his tools against the Usurper Kalvan and his minions.” Took he thought to himself, who will fight much better and more effectively if they don’t have to deal with fools in white bedsheets.
The Investigator gave him a look as though he could see behind Phidestros’ eyes and read his thoughts. “Captain-General we will stay here to watch the battle’s progress while you deal with the unbelievers. We wish you great success in Our endeavor.”
Phidestros nodded.
“What is happening to the Holy Squares?”
Phidestros saw the Holy Squares, the Royal troops of Great King Cleitharses, of the left wing begin to buckle as a mass of Hostigi pikemen pushed them aside. Where did these pikemen come from? Didn’t Kalvan disband his pike units for musketeers’? That’s what Baron Sthentros and Lysandros’ intelligencers claimed.
Then he caught sight of the infantry flags; these were Kalvan’s Princely levy, not his Royal regiments. The cavalry who were supposed to support the flanks of the Holy Squares were being chased from the battlefield by Kalvan’s heavy horse, leaving behind the unprotected infantry. He would have Marshal Zythannes’ head on a pike before this day was over!