“Thank you very much, sir.”
“Stop bowing and scraping and get to work!”
“Yessir!”
The Colonel turned to Jacob, fixing him with a strong eye. “The commander of the watch.”
“I'll have him roused. This is his period off.” A quick nod to one of the soldiers with their party sent the man scurrying for the officer. “May I offer refreshments while the officer is brought along?”
“No, you may not. We shall see him immediately.” Colonel Sherman gestured imperiously at one of the Lifeguards, who turned smartly and led them across the complex, around rows of tents and to the officers' quarters. There, the officer of the watch was just emerging from his tent, buckling on his pistol belt as he did so. Seeing the formal party coming towards him, he saluted immediately, with the unfortunate effect of letting his belt fall to the ground.
“Pick that up, I haven't gotten all day.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Once the officer had comported himself appropriately, the Colonel demanded to see where the incident had happened, and so the little parade marched off again, this time to stand on the firing step of the palisade.
“The arrow was fired from that tree at the edge of the clearing, and from approximately the third bough from the ground.”
“The creature was twenty feet above the ground then.”
“Yes sir.”
“And the return shot that killed it?”
“Fired from where you are standing, sir.”
“A marksman then. Give him a bonus of one week's pay. No other creatures of the same type were spotted during this event?”
“No sir, nor any disturbances reported during the rest of the night.”
“And were you here when the shots were fired?”
“No sir, I was half way through my circuit, and approaching the north gate.”
“Very well.” The Colonel paused for a moment. “Jacob, pull your scouts in, and your patrols. I want you back at the beachhead by midday tomorrow.”
“Understood, sir.”
With that, Colonel Sherman swept off, rejoining the soldiers that had brought him to the camp. It meant that someone else had found an appropriate staging ground for the push into the interior. Despite his hopes, Jacob himself had not been recognized by the Colonel, and stewed throughout the rest of the day.
To take his mind off the disappointment, he strolled about the camp, looking to the improvement of the defences for the next night. The palisade was raised, and because he was feeling petty, he had the tree where the archer had hidden cut down. It did not really signify much, but he felt justified all the same.
***
The next morning was born dull and dreary, with fog skimming through the trees and a drizzle slowly saturating the soldiers as they marched through the forest. Jacob had called for close order, because if the natives were going to launch an attack, this fog would negate much of the range and quality advantages of the Lifeguard Infantry. Close fighting never had the discipline of ranged combat and was thus to be avoided, which was a pity, because Jacob himself was better with a sword and pistol than a musket. Perhaps it was his family heritage. The Perlews had long led from the front, and matters were always close there.
Jacob was mulling those thoughts over when he arrived at the beachhead, his thousand men drawn up in perfect order as he waited for a further command. Presently a messenger came to direct them to their staging area for tomorrow's departure. Tents had already been arrayed, taken from among the spares kept on the ships.
He spent the rest of the afternoon getting his men settled in and ensuring that they had adequate supplies for the march tomorrow. After that, he was required to attend the officers' dinner, over which Colonel Sherman would be presiding.
Arriving at the grand tent, Jacob found Matthias seated at the side of the Colonel. That pompous prat must have found the route for tomorrow's march. A smug little smile from on high confirmed Jacob's worst thoughts, and he scowled as he was ushered to his seat midway down the table, opposite from Richard, the commander of the other patrol in force.
“Good evening Richard.”
“And to you, Jacob. I hear you had an unpleasant run in with a native.”
“Native is barely the right word for them. They're grasping for barbarianism. I do believe our archaeologists have found creatures more advanced than these.”
“Well, they can hardly lay claim to this land if they don't understand the notion of private property, now can they?”
“I do believe that is all our thoughts.”
“And quite rightly too. Ham?”
“Thank you. Has the good Colonel announced our plans for the morrow?”
“No, I fear not. He’ll likely announce them at this dinner.”
“Suits his style, and we're all here in the same room. Kills two birds with one stone. Very efficient of him.”
“Yes, rather. A bit formal though. Hard to question his plans when one is seated far down the table.”
“Questions his plans? Are you quite mad?”
“Theory, only theory.”
“I should hope so, or your commission will soon be on a trawler shipping into the Barren Sea as captain of the marine guard.”
“Now that is strong!”
David, another officer, leant over and whispered. “He did worse to the last man to fail under him. Had the Queen lock him up in an oubliette. Still there, I'd wager.”
Jacob shook his head. The Colonel was quite a frightening figure. His talk with Richard turned to small things, people they missed from the homeland, little delights taken while strolling about the capital's many parks and avenues, all those trappings of civilization one does not notice until they are gone.
Dessert had been served, and the sherry graced the table as the mood became slightly more informal. Until the Colonel rapped his knuckles upon the table, twice. At that, the room stilled and all eyes turned to the raised dais from which the great man rose.
“Tomorrow, we march along a route laid out to the north-west. Stakes have been driven into the ground every quarter of a mile, and Matthias' troops will have the honour of leading. Jacob's will take the middle, and Richard's the rearguard. Your units will bring their full complement of men with them. David, Thomason, Willaby, your three units will remain here as a reserve, and to hold the beachhead. I expect you to continue building fortifications and storage facilities, as I have already received word by a fast courier ship that the second fleet is approaching and will be here within the week. You must make all due haste to ensure that accommodations are waiting for their arrival.”
He paused, taking a sip from the cherry red glass beside him. “Matthias, Jacob, Richard, your units will proceed through the forest until the edge of the plains. We have not found a suitable path through, and so when we reach the grasslands, Matthias and Richard's units will construct a fortress there, while Jacob's will cut a road through the forest. Is this understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, sirs” drifted up the table, and the Colonel sat, satisfied that he had been well understood. A second serving of alcohol was had by all, the officers exchanging jokes and informal pleasantries with one another. Soon though, the six commanding officers departed back to their regiments, there to check on the preparations one final time.
***
Jacob found himself waking with a strong headache, and wondered, for he had not drunk anything near enough for him to have been under the table. Waving it off as a matter of no import, he marshalled his troops and examined their kit, pointing out the minuscule flaws that he had spent many months training to distinguish.
Satisfied that all was in readiness, his soldiers formed in marching order and waited for the signal trumpets. They came within moments, and the vanguard of Jacob's forces strode out, leaving fifty paces between them and the rearguard of Matthias' unit. A detailed description of the route, received that morning, indicated that the passage would take five days, mostly due to the heavy wagon
s and artillery.
He laughed at that. No matter how skilled the unit, how trained the army, it always moved at the pace of its artillery unit, which was invariably the slowest. Well and good that the artillery had come along though, for on grasslands, nothing could approach without being torn to shreds by the heavy fire of those cannons.
The march out was pleasant for the first two days, but it turned dreary and dismal for the third. Rain had come in heavily, soaking everyone to the skin and drenching the wood, leaving no possibility of a fire to dry out, rendering the march all the more unpleasant. Jacob found himself wishing that the natives would try a little raid. At least it would get the blood flowing.
The natives were most unobliging, and the fourth day passed much as the third had, grey, damp, and soaked to the skin. The air was cold enough that the surgeons were worried about chills and illness, but with only one more day to go until the plains and the end of the march, Jacob and the other officers gave the soldiers a double ration of liquor and told them to stand strong. Lifeguards Infantry were bred from the best stock mankind had. They would not fall by the wayside because of a few sniffles.
The fifth day dawned without the constant downpour of the prior two, but the passage was boggy and treacherous, with the heavy wagons and cannons sinking into the mud, forcing the Lifeguards to cut trees and boughs in order to lever them out, or to make temporary roads for the artillery to cross.
Grumbling could be heard amongst the rank and file as to the foolishness of bringing the artillery before the road had been built, but the sergeants quickly stepped in and put an end to that, whipping one recalcitrant soldier who would not stop his tongue inside his mouth. Jacob presided over the whipping, then gave a speech promising twice as many lashes for the next soldier who sought to damage morale.
Suitably chastised, the men went back to work moving the artillery and supply wagons along. It was found that humans had better traction on the slippery ground than the draught animals, and so squads were drafted in, each taking their turn in hauling. But despite the best efforts of the men, the glutinous muck continued to trap and delay the wheeled vehicles, causing tempers to flare and the schedule to become ruined.
Eventually, their inability to travel at the prescribed pace had the expected effect, and the columns were forced to halt for the evening, still some miles from the plains and surrounded on all sides by tall trees. The Colonel ordered the creation of a double strength palisade, and tripled the guard on the walls. Without the advantages of a clear line of sight, their musketry was severely diminished in strength. Because of that, Jacob ordered all sentries from his regiment to stand duty with their bayonets fixed. Upon seeing his innovation, the other regimental commanders took the liberty of giving the same suggestion to their soldiers.
Mess that night was an uncomfortable affair, only two courses instead of the more regular five or six. The cook apologized profusely for the sorry showing, explaining that with the constant rains, there was simply not enough wood that would burn without damaging the delicate flavours of his cooking. The Colonel accepted this statement with good grace, waving away any complaints with a stern reminder that while upon campaign, life would not always measure up to the standards of barracks living. The younger officers, suitably chastised, remained mostly silent for the course of the meal.
Eventually, as the cheese dish was making its rounds, accompanied by a lesser brand of sherry, conversation sprung up once more, this time on the matter of the natives. The sudden exuberance of the officers for speaking was perhaps also engendered by the departure of Colonel Sherman to his private smoking quarters.
“Do you know, we haven't seen a single sign of another one of those daft blighters that attacked you, Jacob. Perhaps we've frightened them off already.” Matthias waved his copita expansively.
“Oh, quite possibly. The creature had more fur than a good deal of the animals we see at home, and is most likely only slightly more intelligent. And we all know that even the strongest of predators will hide when it sees great numbers moving past. No doubt they have gone to ground, and will make an appearance once they are more used to our presence. Most likely by stealing from our refuse.”
“The most intelligent inhabitant of this whole continent, little more than a rag-picker. What an amusing thought.” Matthias paused, an idea clearly stealing across his expression. “If we perform to our utmost here, do you think Her Royal Highness might offer land and titles here in this new world to those who helped pacify it?”
Willaby jumped in. “Of that, I am quite sure. Quite. After all, we will have done the lion's share of the work, and she has never stinted in rewarding those who have assisted her in the past. Why, even some of the junior men might receive small commissions, perhaps as knights or squires.”
“In some ways, that would be quite a pity. It would mean that we, as the right honourable nobility, receive less than our fair share of the land we have annexed. But we do owe quite an obligation to those gentlemen who serve us, and it is only fair that they are gifted with appropriate compensation for their efforts.”
Jacob held his tongue, rather than reply. As commander of the Lifeguards, all of whom were noble-born, he felt no need to bemoan the rewards delivered to his men. Perhaps, with commoners filling the ranks of his regiment, Matthias felt less charitable towards them. Indeed, Jacob might have done so as well, except that many of the nobles with whom he had served had earned their peerage through devotion to duty upon the field of battle, a far more honest and upright method of earning a title than to be born into it. And a sentiment that he would never breathe a word of in public.
As the cheese and sherry ran low, the officers began to depart, the more conscientious amongst them to spend their evening constitutional amongst their soldiers, the less so to retire to the sitting room and the whist table. Jacob himself had no great love for the cards, feeling that money lost there was a silent insult to his future wife. That being said, he did indulge upon occasion. It would not do to seem a cad.
Tonight, however, he preferred the company of his men. True, most were the children of knights, squires, baronets, and others lowly placed in the order of precedence, but that was an accident of fate, and so far they had served him as well as any soldiers he had commanded. Better, if he was honest. Only the very best received placement into the Queen's Lifeguards, shown by the accuracy and speed of their gunnery. A full shot a minute faster than any other regiment at the last Royal Games.
His rounds that evening were uneventful, if long, as he took pride in stopping at each post, each open campfire, and speaking with the men gathered there, even if only for a few minutes. Jacob had already begun to master Colonel Sherman's trick of remembering every name and face, and used it to good effect at every stop. The smile that spread across each named soldier's expression was a reward, but the knowledge they would fight a little harder, hold discipline that bit more tightly, carried Jacob to his bed that evening, and into a sound sleep shortly thereafter.
***
Jacob sprung from the bed and grabbed his coat, listening all the while to the shouts that echoed around the camp. Moments later there came the crackle of gunfire, ragged, unlike the disciplined fire by line that muskets should have. Not a good sign.
Stepping forth from his tent, Jacob quickmarched across the camp towards his designated section of wall. Even in a moment of need, haste was unseemly. Plus, to judge by the volume of fire originating from the sentries, there was no great threat attacking the Royal Army.
A quick trot up the bank to the top of the palisade brought him next to the sentries. “Report!”
The nearest spun about and snapped a salute. “Sir! Fired upon by natives. Perhaps twenty in number, although total numbers unknown. Responded with musketry. Audible confirmation of hits, total amount unknown.”
“Wounded?”
“None in our section. There were cries from further down the line.”
“Right. I want an advance in force, two lines deep.
Third line, hold the berm. Reload those muskets, and we'll go exploring.”
The orders rippled up and down the soldiers, and Jacob could hear the clank of ramrods forcing home ball and powder. Sending 1st Battalion through the gap in the fortifications as a vanguard, he followed immediately thereafter, and then gave the signal for line abreast.
The Lifeguards formed up as neatly as you please, and then advanced at the double, muskets held in the ready position. Examining his troops from his place in the centre of the second line, Jacob smiled. He truly did have the best soldiers in the Queen's army.
When they reached the edge of the forest, only a few dozen paces away, he detailed two platoons for a reconnaissance in force, and settled his men into a square formation, one third in the centre as a flying reserve. Despite the camp being attacked, he had little fear of being assaulted in turn. The natives were cowardly creatures, easily scared away by the crack of the muskets, and had no doubt fled as soon as they had received counterfire. Although it was somewhat disturbing they had even attacked the camp in the first place. The number of men on duty alone should have frightened them off. Perhaps the natives were even more barbaric than previously thought, and had no true sense of self-preservation.
Or perhaps... Ah! They had never encountered anyone else who could fight at range, and so thought they were safe to snipe from the trees. That must be it. Teaching the natives the nature of modern warfare was going to be an irritating time, but no matter. He would inform the Colonel of his postulate once this excursion was successfully concluded.
“Sir?”
The regimental commander turned on his heel to see the sergeant of the first platoon standing at attention.
“Well?”
“Bloodstains on the ground and nearby vegetation. Evidence of items being dragged along the ground, although it is also possible some of the stains were created by blood dripping from the trees.”
“Did you climb the trees to confirm your supposition?”
Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1) Page 2