The Wolf

by Leo Carew

The legions had less faith in him, but Roper was working on that. Each night, he insisted on pitching his own camp, setting his own fire and even did his bit to fortify the encampment with the legionaries, driving sharpened stakes into the earth around the tents. He would then move between the fires where the warriors cooked, exchanging the odd word and passing them the latest information on how far off the enemy were thought to be. “Twenty leagues of rough country,” he told a hearth of Pendeen legionaries one evening. “We’re heading into the hills.” They chattered at that.

  “There we have the advantage,” observed one.

  “How are we to fight them, lord?” asked another.

  “We’re not short of choices on that front,” said Roper breezily. “Guerrilla tactics are an option; make this land a frightening place for them. I favour pitched battle, though. Let’s make sure they know they only got this far through luck.” There was a murmur of agreement at this and Roper bade them goodnight, moving off into the darkness. Everywhere he was followed by a combination of Gray, Pryce and Helmec. With Gray and Pryce in particular, it enhanced his esteem to be seen with such men, and it did not hurt that they had taken quickly to Helmec. The three had become something of a triumvirate and were often to be found laughing together.

  Many of Uvoren’s supporters were also with the army, Asger among them. As its second-in-command, he led the Guard in Uvoren’s absence. Roper itched to replace him, but his influence was so insignificant that he was not worth the trouble. However, Roper was ever wary of Gosta, another of Uvoren’s supporters. He was another of the Algauti, a minor vassal house of the Lothbroks. Even for an Algauti, Gosta possessed surpassing loyalty to his master. Roper thought of him more as a dog than a man. It did not matter what the situation was; Gosta could be relied upon to enact Uvoren’s will to the last detail. It was not clear how Uvoren commanded his loyalty so utterly when Gosta appeared to despise all other men, but he was a powerful ally. In him, Uvoren had a fighter quite as uncompromising as Pryce, if not quite as swift.

  Both Gray and Tekoa had cautioned Roper that Uvoren might well try to have Roper killed again in the hope that the legions he commanded could be brought to heel, rather than slaughtered. Roper was guarded at all times.

  They marched into the wild. As the terrain grew steeper, Roper was forced to lead Zephyr on foot. The rain restarted and the steed lost its steel-grey colouring to mud. The worse the conditions, the happier the legionaries became. This was what they were born for. If not on campaign, the full legions, Ramnea’s Own, the Pendeen and the Skiritai, would be engaged in exhaustive battle training inside the Hindrunn. As for the others, the five auxiliary legions: they would be working in the forges, the quarries, the forests; performing the million small tasks that kept the country functioning during peace and war. Campaign was a release for them all.

  The survivors they encountered were able to point out to Roper’s forces the places they had buried their food supplies, supplementing the legions’ rations as they advanced. And, seven days after marching from the Hindrunn, they found their first Sutherners. Outriding Skiritai discovered a band of stragglers, slowed down by half a dozen enslaved Anakim women that they dragged with them. The Skiritai made short work of the Sutherners, releasing the women. From that point on, they encountered pockets of stragglers every few miles. Knowing this must mean they were drawing near the main Suthern horde, Roper sent the Skiritai ranging further than ever before, scouring the hills for leagues around the army.

  On the eleventh day, they discovered the enemy.

  A pair of mounted rangers reported to Roper. They had found soldiers by their thousand, perhaps six leagues, they said, to the north-west. “Show me,” was all Roper said. He mounted a courser (a horse of Zephyr’s size would not have the stamina for such a mission) and followed the two guides into the hills, Gray and Helmec with him.

  The horses made heavy work of the mud and it was nearly four hours of picking their way between tree trunks, over beaches of ash and threading between mountains, before they arrived at the edge of a great valley. The Skiritai knew their business and had been careful to avoid detection, tethering the horses out of sight behind a ridge before approaching the rim of the valley on foot. They crawled the final few yards and peered down into the valley.

  There lay the Suthern army. Or, at least, some of it. Tens of thousands filled the valley in which a semi-permanent camp had been established. Tents studded the floor with cooking fires generously interspersed among the men, most of whom were sitting and tending to equipment.

  “They don’t even know that we’ve left the Hindrunn yet,” said Roper, watching over the scene. “Can anyone see any sentries?”

  “There,” said Gray, scouring the valley with an experienced eye, and pointing at a miniscule pair of figures standing on the other side of the valley. “And there … And there.” The five of them sank lower to the ground. This valley had once sheltered a forest, but the trees had been stripped, cut and piled at the sides in a firewood stack that doubled as a crude barricade. It was as though the Sutherners thought you could not camp in a forest: there was either space for soldiers or for trees, but not for both.

  “They get nervous when they can’t see, don’t they?” said Helmec.

  “They have struggled with our country, lord,” said one of the Skiritai. “We have found Suthern skeletons everywhere we’ve scouted, usually killed by bears or wolves. That is why they clear the forests. Those we capture are usually grateful that we’ve found them. Until they’re executed.” The other Skiritai laughed.

  “Gestur; Margeir,” said Roper. He had discovered the names of the two Skiritai rangers from Tekoa before they had departed and they crawled a touch closer. “I trust you have the measure of these interlopers,” said Roper, with a smile. “I would be grateful if you could assess this army thoroughly. I need to know how many men they command and how many cavalry. Tell me how they are feeding themselves when they are clearly so ill-at-ease here. Tell me if they have split their forces. Gather as much information as you can and be back to the army before dusk tomorrow.”

  The rangers obediently returned to their horses and departed.

  “As for us,” continued Roper to Gray and Helmec, “back to the army. We can do no more until we know what we are facing.”

  The three mounted their steeds and retraced their tracks. They were forced to tack up some of the steeper hills, so slippery was the terrain. Back with the army, Roper established extra fortifications for the camp and asked Tekoa how the Skiritai could best keep an eye on the surrounding landscape without drawing attention to themselves. “Figure-of- eight patrols,” Tekoa had replied. “Parties of three on foot, orbiting the camp in overlapping figures-of-eight. The centre of the ‘eight’ is the camp, so they can collect fresh news and orders before heading out again.”

  “Very good,” said Roper, nodding. “And I have some more specific requirements of your men.” Tekoa’s eyebrow rose as Roper explained what he needed.

  “It sounds like you’re planning something foolish, my lord.”

  “I have many plans. This one I hope not to use.”

  “It is as well to be prepared,” said Tekoa dubiously.

  They had a secure perimeter and well-fortified camp; now they just needed to wait. Roper walked among his men, moving from fire to fire with the news that the enemy had been found. “Not long now, lads,” he declared. “We’re waiting on a more thorough assessment but I assure you, there are enough Sutherners to go around. You will all need to do your part.” He encouraged the legionaries to rest and eat well, as well as to make sure their weapons and armour were in peak condition.

  Roper did not expect the two rangers, Gestur and Margeir, to arrive much before dusk the next day and, suspecting that inactivity would be bad for the legions, he set them to work. Some were sent out to forage for food, some to assemble pikes and some to rehearse marching on a potential battlefield that Roper had identified. None of this needed doing. Roper doubted he woul
d use the pikes. There was no problem with more food: they were still well-supplied with rations and there would not be much to forage in these hills in any case. And the world’s best-trained soldiers certainly did not need to rehearse marching. But Kynortas had been of the belief that idle men, particularly idle warriors, make trouble. And it does not do to spend too much time thinking on the eve of battle.

  Roper stayed in camp and waited for the rangers to return. They arrived just as night began to drape the hills and all the legionaries were back in camp, bearing disturbing news.

  “The army is vast, lord,” said Gestur, who sat at Roper’s fire wolfing down hoosh that the Black Lord had prepared himself. Roper had been eating with Gray and Tekoa when the Skiritai returned and had asked that they join him.

  “Be specific,” insisted Roper.

  The rangers glanced at one another. “A hundred and fifty thousand,” said Gestur, the more voluble of the two. “It was hard to work around their sentries, lord. Even so, we are confident that it is above a hundred and thirty thousand infantry and twenty thousand mounted knights.”

  “Twenty thousand knights,” said Gray mildly. “Damn.”

  “There aren’t twenty thousand knights in the whole of Albion,” said Tekoa. “Not even ten thousand. They must have support from the continent.”

  “So it sounds as though we can assume we are outnumbered four to one,” Roper surmised. He took another spoonful of hoosh, frowning into his bowl. “What else?”

  “They have kept their forces together: all of them are within the valley. And they are getting their supplies from a huge wagon park in the north.”

  “We thought that was so that their forces were defending it from our likely direction of approach.”

  “Eh? A single wagon park in the north for the entire camp?” pressed Roper.

  The two rangers nodded. “As far as we could see.”

  Roper brooded for a moment. “Gestur, Margeir: I thank you for your services. Please take your food and excuse us; I must plan with my companions here.” The two Skiritai picked up their bowls carefully and bowed to Roper, heading for a nearby hearth at which some of their peers cackled with laughter.

  “Twenty thousand knights is a daunting prospect,” said Tekoa as soon as the rangers were out of earshot. “We will need to find a location that nullifies their cavalry.” Tekoa glanced at Roper, aware that he had already been asked to locate just such a site.

  “Agreed,” said Gray. “Somewhere we cannot be flanked, where quality counts for more than quantity.”

  “Even in such a location, it is too many,” said Roper bluntly. Gray and Tekoa glanced at one another.

  “My lord,” said Tekoa, sitting up straight on the log he was using as a bench. “I admit I have been impressed with your leadership thus far. Notwithstanding that, here, you do not know what you are talking about. You have seen one battle; Gray and I have seen fifty between us. You must trust our judgement and I say that the legions are of a different quality to the Suthern soldiers. You must trust our judgement, and our legionaries.”

  “I agree, my lord,” said Gray firmly. “If we find the right location, we can fight the Sutherners. The alternative would be to retreat again. Forget the shame, forget the dishonour: your command would not survive it twice in a row.”

  “Perhaps we could win,” conceded Roper. “Let the Sutherners wash over our line again and again until they break; hope that our cavalry can somehow contain twenty thousand knights. But we would lose thousands, perhaps tens of thousands. There is also a good chance that we would lose the battle. Do you deny it, my advisors?”

  “Better than the alternative,” growled Tekoa. Gray simply stared at Roper, his brown eyes boring into Roper’s green.

  “What are you saying, my lord?” he asked, finally.

  “I’m saying the price of victory is too dear. We must defeat this army with our own forces intact.”

  “You fear you will not be able to retake the Hindrunn if we lose too many men?” Gray pressed.

  “Forget the Hindrunn,” said Roper. “That comes later.”

  “It doesn’t have to, lord,” Gray said. “Do not forget why we are here. You say it is to drive the Sutherners back to their lands, not to secure your own legacy. I fear that you will not be able to do both.”

  “I tell you, my mind is not on the Hindrunn,” insisted Roper. “It is on the future. If we lose half our army here, we would win the battle but lose a war that will last for generations. We must preserve the legions in the course of victory, otherwise all we have done is pay blood for time. We cannot repel the Sutherners for ever, not unless our victory here is overwhelming.”

  There was a pause as Gray continued to look shrewdly at the Black Lord. He turned his gaze to Tekoa. “I accept that, Legate,” he said respectfully. “Let’s hear his alternative.” Tekoa’s face was flushing a familiar deep red and he glowered at Roper. In the end, he nodded curtly.

  “The Black Kingdom will not tolerate such a horde for long,” said Roper. “It will shake them off, if given time. But we must help it in that regard, and I need you two to back me in front of the other legates. Everyone must agree, otherwise we will surely destroy ourselves.”

  “So the Black Kingdom is to defeat the Sutherners on our behalf?” demanded Tekoa.

  “It is to help us,” said Roper. “We shall weaken the Sutherners together, and when the moment comes, when their forces are rotten with fear and pinned by the sea, we shall finish them.”

  Roper built up the fire and found some more logs to provide seating around it before summoning the legates. There were nine of them, including Tekoa and the commander of the cavalry. Gray, Asger and Pryce were there also to represent the Guard, making thirteen around the fire.

  The legates’ mood did not match Roper’s own. They arrived talkative and full of good cheer. Even with soldiers as robust as the legions, the mood on campaign was not always so positive, but Roper’s understanding of small gestures and the impact they had on morale was telling. So far he had been everywhere; he had let no one see him asleep. He had kept the watchmen company on the camp perimeters; had shared his fire and his hoosh, and appeared to know the names of every soldier under his command. Any time he was questioned, he had an answer, both frankly honest and reassuring. He appeared secure, calm and serene and was beginning to exert the kind of influence that Kynortas had had early in his reign. Despite his flighty reputation, the legionaries were coming to admire this new Black Lord. He showed willingness, energy and what appeared to be competence.

  Roper waited for the legates to settle and then called for silence. It was his third campaign council and silence fell more quickly than the last time, which itself had been faster than the time before that. “Peers, perhaps you have heard by now that the Skiritai have brought worrying news. The enemy have forces in excess of one hundred and thirty thousand warriors, with twenty thousand mounted knights supporting them.” Not a councillor batted an eyelid at this. They continued to stare unmoved at Roper. “I have considered the threat posed by such a force and concluded that it would be unwise to meet them in pitched battle straight away.” This elicited a response. There was a restless stirring among the legates and Asger tutted loudly.

  “You object, Asger?” Roper called him out.

  Asger was on his feet at once. “More cowardliness from a second-rate leader, who proves himself yet again unwilling to commit to combat,” he said importantly. There was an unease around the circle that suggested he was not alone in this opinion. “You haven’t the stomach for this, Roper.”

  “Regardless of your opinion, you call me ‘lord,’” said Roper. “Your comments have been noted, Asger.”

  “You propose to retreat, lord?” said another legate impatiently. His name was Skallagrim; legate of the Gillamoor, one of the five auxiliary legions travelling with the army.

  “No, I propose to use our country as best we are able to weaken them before we fight them head on.” Roper paused and then
allowed himself a rueful smile. “I think everyone here knows that we have nowhere to retreat to. The Hindrunn gates are locked to this army.”

  “Nonsense,” objected Asger.

  Roper let that comment receive the silence it deserved for a moment. “You always interested me as a choice for Lieutenant of the Guard, Asger,” he said at last. “I have never seen it first-hand, but have been informed several times that you do not really have the martial capability to be a guardsman, let alone Lieutenant of the Guard. Nor is your leadership held in high regard.” Asger’s face was flooding with colour but he dared not respond. Pryce, sitting next to him, had shifted on his log so that he was directly facing the isolated lieutenant. Roper continued, slowly and deliberately enraging Asger. “There are even those who doubt you belong in Ramnea’s Own Legion, though I cannot believe every story of cowardice that comes to my ears. Despite all this, your rise to prominence has been nothing short of meteoric since your childhood friend Uvoren came to captain the Guard.” The assessment, coming from the mouth of one so young and directed at a man as proud as Asger, could blister. Several of the legates were biting back smiles as they listened. Asger, so transparent in his motives, was not popular. “And I think, with all of this taken into account, you have spoken insolently once too often. You are relieved of the lieutenancy. Gray will take over your duties from now on.”

  “Finished, Roper?” spluttered Asger, purple with rage.

  “Why, yes,” said Roper, “I believe you are.” Pryce and Tekoa snorted with laughter and several of the legates applauded gleefully. Asger stood, filled with boiling energy, glanced down at Pryce who was still staring at him steadily, and stormed from the circle.

  “As I said,” Roper continued, “we will diminish the Sutherners before fighting them.”

  “How?” Skallagrim spoke again.

  “An attack,” said Roper. “But one aimed at their supplies, rather than their warriors. We launch a diversionary raid, and when they swarm to rebuff us, our cavalry rip the baggage train apart.”