Thru was apprised of these events in short order. Even before Aeswiren was wounded, Thru had messengers leaping through his own army. He sent others south, across Blue Hill to warn Nuza at the field hospital.
Within a handful of minutes, he was able to send a regiment, the Sixth, across the hill to bolster Aeswiren's regiments. Soon he added the Eleventh Regiment, a force of country mots from Dristen. The pressure of the Eleventh on the enemy's flank at the extreme left of the line finally brought the attack to a halt. A new allied line was established, snaking across the top of Blue Hill's northern end. The right flank of Thru's army was now almost cut off on the extension of Blue Hill that it occupied. The enemy had pressed to within fifty yards of the only road on the hill, the coastal road that ran down to Bear Hill and Warkeen village and the crossing of the Dristen. Thru sent orders for the catapults to be pulled back at once and sent south to new positions on the northern side of Bear Hill.
When he heard that Aeswiren had been critically wounded, he sent a messenger to fetch Surgeon Biswas then left his own command post and ran at full tilt to find the Emperor. The guards, obviously shaken, bristled at the sight of him, but he reminded them in their own tongue who he was and they let him pass.
Around the Emperor he found a tight knot of staff officers. Aeswiren was propped up on a litter and his normal ruddy face was pale, but he was still alive.
"Lord, how bad is it?" said Thru as he pressed to the fore.
"Ah, General Gillo is here." Aeswiren reached out to take Thru's hand. "Everyone, take note of my words. If I should fail here, you are to listen to this fellow. He is the commander of the army of Dronned, our allies. Listen to him and cooperate to the fullest. It's the only way we'll turn this around. D'you hear me?"
The Emperor stopped talking, too exhausted to continue.
Some of the regimental commanders were gathered to one side.
Thru found himself beside two staff officers. One of them shook his hand. "Hello, I'm Major Balderi. We've met before, of course, but we haven't spoken."
Thru recognized Balderi and the other officer, Soames, who also stretched out a hand.
"We have a problem," said Balderi. "If the men learn that Aeswiren is dying, they will lose heart. You probably don't need us to remind you that this is Aeswiren's army."
"I understand," said Thru as calmly as possible. "I am in the process of extracting my force from the right side of the position. We need to hold this line for now, and then retire to the next hill south."
"This is General Toshak's plan?"
"Yes. General Toshak was extremely thorough. He had worked up a plan for an emergency like this. There are positions there, partly prepared, that we can occupy to deny the enemy access to the bridge at Warkeen."
"We will hold," said Major Soames. "But if the Emperor dies, we will face a crisis."
Thru nodded. He turned and made his way back to Aeswiren's side. "Lord, can you hear me?"
"Yes, it's Gillo, isn't it? Sorry this had to happen. Enemy really caught us napping. Must have landed a force behind us. Don't know why I wasn't warned."
"We have a new line, and we have stopped his attack. We are not beaten yet."
"That's good news. I'm afraid that I may be beaten, though."
"I have sent for Surgeon Biswas. He was at the field hospital, working with Nuza."
"Nuza?" Aeswiren's eyes lit up for a moment.
"Biswas will save you, if anyone can. But I have another idea: What if Mentu came here and pretended to be you?"
"Mentupah?"
"Yes."
Aeswiren's quick mind was still alert enough to see the possibilities. "Damn me, but it's a chance. Even if I die, if Mentu can convince the men that I'm still alive, they'll fight to the bitter end."
"They will."
"Do it."
Thru wrote out the message. He wanted to take it himself, but Mentu was at least two miles down the coast, and he could not be absent from his command post a minute longer. The fighting might resume at any moment.
He was about to send one of Aeswiren's men when Filek Biswas and Simona came hurrying up out of the dark.
Biswas knelt down beside the Emperor.
"Thru," said Simona as she fell into his arms, weeping.
"Simona. You are just the person I need."
"What is it? What can I do?"
"The Emperor cannot stand. He may not even live through the night. But he must show himself to his men tonight or they will lose heart. The enemy is bound to attack again at dawn. He has come close to victory but is not quite there. I must hold him off until Sulmo comes.
"Until they come, this army must not lose heart. I need Mentu to come here. Mentu must face his destiny."
Simona's eyes widened. The Emperor was obviously not going to rise from that litter this night. Filek was already having the litter moved into a tent, which had been hurriedly set up behind the temporary command post. Officers from all over the army had converged there to get fresh orders. Soames and Balderi were answering questions, but clearly more was needed.
Thru took a deep breath. Simona gripped his hand.
"I will run all the way. Mentu will come. I will tell him he can do it."
"He can do it. The question is whether the army officers will accept it."
"They will listen to you, Thru. They must listen."
Simona left word with her father, then hurried away.
Thru marched over to speak to the knot of senior officers. In a few careful words he explained his plan. They recoiled. Then, after a few moments' reflection, they began to discuss it.
"It is a possible line of action," said Colonel Jejeji of the First Regiment. "Better than giving up."
"If we lose, we all go to the priests. They won't be gentle with us either."
"Well, I for one will die on my feet here, not tied over their fornicating altar."
And so Thru gained the support of the senior officers for his plan.
Inside the tent, he found Filek Biswas engaged in surgery. The Emperor was unconscious, the arrow was out, and Filek was cleaning the wound with spirits of alcohol and sewing it up.
"Will he live?" That was all Thru wanted to know.
"I cannot say. If the wounds do not suppurate, then he should live. He is a strong man, in good health. But this is a deep wound, and the arrow was in the flesh for a long time. Infection is the usual result, and it is often fatal."
Thru could not stay any longer. He left, again at a run, and crossed back to his own command post, where he found his staff frantic with anxiety over his absence.
The catapults and wagons were already in a line, slowly lumbering back over the top of the hill and onto the southward trail. Thru studied the scouting reports that had accumulated in his absence. The position was stretched tight across the top of the hill on a diagonal. He began the process of extracting the right flank from the northeast end of the hill and moving it south to line up on the right side of a new line that would stretch across the hill at its narrowest point. The right flank there would end on a steep slope, with forest all around and Lupin Valley below. The center would rest on open ground on either side of the coast road. And the left, to be held by Aeswiren's army, would be on the coastward side, which was mostly open ground with occasional clumps of trees where some soil had settled into the chalk.
This shorter line was the one that Thru hoped could be held until General Ter-Saab and Aeswiren's fleet arrived from Sulmo. He could only pray he would have enough time. And that Simona could persuade Mentu to go along with his plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When Aeswiren awoke, he found Nuza sitting beside his litter on a camp stool. The tent was otherwise empty and lit by a single lamp hanging from the tent pole.
"I am honored, Mistress Nuza. But surely there are many who are worse off than me."
"There are, Great King of Shasht," said Nuza in her own tongue. "But none of them are as important today as you."
"Well, in that
case, perhaps you can tell me how I'm doing."
"Surgeon Biswas was able to remove the arrow. He has sewn up the blood vessels that were cut. He says you will live if the wounds stay clean."
"Well, that's somewhat encouraging. The good Surgeon Biswas is the foremost practitioner of medicine in the world, so if I have both him and yourself at my side, I must have a fighting chance."
Nuza smiled and squeezed his hand. Aeswiren studied her features and saw again the beauty that had pierced his soul.
"What is going on beyond these concerns over an old man's health?"
"I am not entirely sure. Thru Gillo is now commanding our army. I don't know who commands yours."
"What is the hour? How long have I lain here?"
"It is midnight. The enemy is expected to attack at dawn again, but this time we will be ready for his tricks."
"Well, I hope so. This enemy has a skinful of them."
"Here, Lord, you must drink." Nuza held a cup of water to his parched lips. After a few gulps, she pulled it away.
"It's thirsty work, lying here like this."
"I will bring you something to eat. You must regain your strength. We will move you to Dronned later on."
"Yes, yes, but first I must see my brother. Has he come yet?"
"No, but he is expected."
Aeswiren lay back and let his eyes feast on Nuza. The grey fur, the dark eyes with their inhuman color, so widely spaced beneath the enormous eyebrows. Her face was both beautiful and frightening in its difference. He pondered once again how he and other men must appear to her. Huge, coarse creatures with thick facial hair and naked skin. Everything about men must seem ungainly and ugly to her.
"Lord, what is it?" she said, leaning close.
"Nothing," he mumbled, but tears began to stream down his cheeks while she stared at him.
Men might wish to live among the mots of the Land, but they would never be anything but men, and if men were to infiltrate the culture of the Land, they could only degrade it. For the first time in many years, Aeswiren the Third felt a wave of self-pity wash over him.
"When I look at you, Nuza, my dear, I think sometimes that I would rather be an ordinary mot, one of your people, and therefore free to seek your hand, than to be the Emperor of all Shasht."
Nuza grinned, used to Aeswiren's affection for her. "But your people need you, Lord, and if you were one of us, they would not have you to take care of them."
Aeswiren chuckled despite his tears. "You know how to bring me down from the clouds, my dear. And you're right. I have huge responsibilities." He tried to sit up.
"No, Lord, what are you doing?"
"Well, someone has to fetch my brother. He has a terrible job to do, and it must be done tonight."
"Lord, you do not have the strength to even stand, let alone go out in the dark to find him."
"I will get someone to help me if I have to."
As if he had heard all this, a figure wrapped in a cloak and wearing a wide-brimmed hat entered the tent. Behind him came Simona.
The cloak parted, the hat was removed, and Mentupah Vust stood there.
Aeswiren felt his breath catch in his throat. "Mentu, you came at last."
"Mistress Simona was most insistent, brother."
Both men grinned.
"She told you what's needed, I'm sure."
Mentu knelt down by his brother's litter. They clasped hands. "She did, Lord, and I fear it as much as I might fear death itself."
"You have known for more than twenty years that something like this might come."
"That's why you locked me in that tower..."
Aeswiren closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, brother, that is why I locked you up. To keep you from being used to depose me."
"And now you need me to pretend to be you."
"Yes."
"And I must agree, because all else depends on this."
"The men must see that I am still their commander."
"Won't they be able to tell the difference?"
Aeswiren chuckled. "Not when we've finished with you."
—|—
When he was finally ready for his performance, Mentu Vust had bandages around his neck and chin and a heavy robe wrapped about his body.
Aeswiren pronounced him "as close to me as he can be."
Mentu would say very little to the men, just show himself and lead them in a short chant for victory before moving on. He would walk slowly, lean on a staff. It was already widely known that he had been wounded. A crier would go ahead of him to tell the troops what to expect. As long as he could wave to them, urge them to fight for victory, that should be enough.
Sergeant Rukkh would accompany him, as well as Klek, both primed to whisper things he should say to the different regiments. Most of the senior officers were in on the deception, but they had kept the secret well. The men were unaware of how close Aeswiren had come to dying from that arrow.
At the first stop in front of the hastily assembled reserve force, Mentu suffered a bad attack of stage fright, but he got over it after an initial stumble or two. Perhaps it was the way that Sergeant Rukkh behaved toward him, as if he really was Aeswiren the Third, that helped him step into the illusion himself. Rukkh never addressed him as anything but "Lord" and "Your Majesty."
Mentu was never really sure afterward if that was what did the trick, but after that first halting little speech, he found his way. For the rest of that night, moving from regiment to regiment, he became the Emperor, Aeswiren the Third. By the end, in front of the Seventh Regiment, he was shouting his lines and forgetting to lean on the staff. Klek had to whisper to him to remember that he was supposed to be badly wounded.
Well before dawn, the task was done. The men were reassured that their Emperor still lived. The regiments had moved back to the new, shorter line chosen by Thru. They found that an army of monkeys—kids, grannies, and females of all ages—had been working like beavers to dig trenches and set up protective fasciae.
This occasioned amazement all round. The men of Aeswiren's army had seen many new, unexpected sides to the native people. That they were people as much as "monkeys" was now coming to be accepted.
There was discomfort from this realization, however. Some men balked. Others were appalled at all that had gone before.
"You know we ate them, we killed the bastards and ate their flesh. How can we atone for that?"
Such a ghastly thought ended many an argument in the regiments that night. No one could deny that it had been the sudden arrival of a well-drilled regiment of monkeys that had enabled them to hold their line and then reorganize.
Back in the tent where Aeswiren lay on his litter, nursed by Nuza and attended by a select group of orderlies, Mentu sat down and felt the tension flow out of him.
"Well, brother," said Aeswiren, "what was it like to be the Emperor?"
"Like a dream. I started out pretending, and that was no good. But Sergeant Rukkh helped me believe, and then I think it went well."
Aeswiren chuckled. "Oh, it did. Everyone was impressed by how strong I sounded. 'A little unsteady on his feet,' they said, 'but his voice was strong!'"
"And what happens now?"
"We see if we can hold off this enemy until we get reinforcements. If we're lucky, he will make a mistake that we can take advantage of."
"And if he doesn't make a mistake?"
"He will have to press his advantage. He lacks supply and is operating in hostile country. His army will starve soon, so he must force a conclusion. That means he will attack. But many things can go wrong during an attack, and we must be ready to seize any opportunity that comes our way."
—|—
When dawn broke over the eastern hills on the third day, it was met with considerable apprehension in the ranks of both the allied armies. The shock of the previous morning was still strong in everyone's mind. Those who had been temporarily blinded were crouched down with their hands over their eyes to protect themselves from who-knew-what devi
ltry.
But the sun rose in all its customary warmth and majesty. It was a cloudless day, and off to the north a single thin column of smoke rose up into the sky until the upper air tore it apart and blew it out to sea.
After a few minutes, it became clear that there would be no dawn attack preceded by sorcery, and men and mots relaxed a little. The enemy was only visible as a line of fasciae set up beyond the range of the archers.
Aeswiren's men were tired and hungry, and underneath that they were angry. They had been taken unawares by a flank attack carried out in darkness. They felt humiliated and eager to get the chance to set things right.
The army of Dronned was also tired and hungry, and underneath that it was frightened. Thru could sense it. The loss of Toshak had undermined the mots' faith in their eventual victory. Always it had been Toshak who had led them to victory. Now he was gone.
On top of that, the night attack had unnerved them. The army of Aeswiren was seen by the mots as being the standard to emulate. Their skilled, seasoned veterans had always taken a heavy toll on mot armies. And yet that army had been taken by surprise and almost destroyed. As a result, the army of the Land had been forced to abandon its carefully prepared positions and retreat a mile and a half. Giving up that ground without a fight rankled many hearts.
What both armies knew for certain was that this would be a day of destiny. They had fought the enemy for two days and survived his worst. Could they rise up today and destroy him?
Thru had new scouting reports to study. He had not slept that night. He had worked ceaselessly to position his troops and form a clear idea of his enemy's dispositions.
The pyluk horde had moved during the night. They were now stationed in Lupin Valley, a few hundred feet below his right flank. Between the two was a steep slope, though not a vertical cliff. Attacking up that slope would be virtually impossible—except that, with sorcery in play, it was hard to know what might be possible.
Still, Thru's biggest immediate concern was breakfast for six thousand mots and six thousand men. He cast anxious eyes toward the south road. If they were going to be supplied, the food would all come up that road from Dronned and Warkeen.
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