The meal looked to be excellently prepared, despite the fact that it was served in a war camp. Renek saw several interesting uses of various things that seemed out of place on fine plates, such as biscuits served with the bird that were clearly travel biscuits—dense, dry, and filling, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too bad when soaked in juice from the bird. There was beef jerky in the green beans instead of ham. Dessert was already on the table, and seemed to be fruit mixed with honey and nuts, all probably gathered from nearby farms.
“Lieutenant, this is an opulent spread for a battle camp. My compliments!” Renek said. He noticed that Rimes rolled his eyes in response to the compliment.
Hesiod must have seen Rimes’ expression as well, for he said “Ah, Captain Rimes,” he said with a rueful smile, “you shouldn’t begrudge a man like myself his little … creature comforts!”
Renek smiled politely, clearly confused.
A soldier came in, dressed in a chef’s traditional uniform, and began to serve the dinner. Renek noticed that there was an odd bulge in the man’s clothing at his waist. When he reached around Renek to put food on his plate, Renek noticed that there was a similar, if smaller, bulge in his left sleeve—and he caught the slightest glint of a silver pommel as the chef reached for one of the plates of vegetables.
Hesiod sighed. “You seem confused, good sir. You are right to be.” He signed again, and looked down at the roast bird in front of them all. “You see, I am not a ‘true’ soldier, as Rimes would tell you—if I would ever stop talking and give him the chance!” He glanced over at Rimes out of the corner of his eye, then back down at the food before continuing.
“I know the king quite well. I am quite the … athletic courtier,” he looked at Renek and smiled weakly, “but, in the end, I am still a courtier. Because I am smart and able politician, the king saw fit to ‘reward’ me with a command in the army.” He laughed a rather high-pitched, tinny laugh for such a large man. “I suppose our dear King felt that if I was good at stratagems in his court, then I must be good at stratagems on the battlefield.”
“Was he right?” Renek already knew the answer before asking.
“Sadly, no. I am no better than any other inexperienced man.”
Rimes cut in. “Well, it’s better than I thought it would be.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded a shaky nod, as if trying to convince himself that what he said was true. “We’ve lost about a quarter of our men, and the Triols’ army is four times our size.”
Hesiod waved his hand in the air. “My dear captain, continuously fighting a retreating battle will reduce losses even under the most idiotic commander—such as myself.”
Renek smiled, and asked, “How do you know about retreating battles if you have no experience?”
Hesiod laughed his light and airy laugh again. “To be honest, I did read a book, or perhaps even two, on our way to meet the enemy. I’m not a total idiot.”
Renek laughed along with both other men.
Hesiod picked up his fork and poked at the leg that had been served him. “Regardless, I agree with Rimes—we’re in much better shape than I thought we’d be in when we left the capitol.” He winked at Rimes. “We could have done better, perhaps, had we not had to carry a trunk of plates, cookware, silverware, and spices, eh Rimes?”
Rimes snorted into his plate.
Hesiod grinned sheepishly at Renek. “My one condition of fighting, I begged the king to find the best chef-soldier in his army before we left. One extra chest of materials and I can eat like a human being, instead of eating beef jerky for half my meals, and cold hard bread for the other half.” He wrinkled his nose. “Of course, both of those are better than…what did you call it, Rimes? That … soup you said you had to eat in your last campaign?
“Whatchagot Stew,” Rimes said, without hesitation. “You find whatever you can that’s … mostly eatable, and you put it in water, boil it for a while, and then you eat it.” He furrowed his brow. “Shoes ain’t really that tasty.”
Hesiod shuddered. “No, I rather imagine that they’re not.” He cut off a piece of meat and chewed, closing his eyes in pleasure.
Renek followed suit, and it was quite good. More flavors all at once than he liked normally, but they did complement each other quite well.
“Ah, there’s a touch of fennel in this,” Hesiod murmured. “We must have passed some earlier, that wasn’t in the food I brought with us.” He grinned and winked at Renek. “Not too shabby for being on a campaign, eh?”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. It’s quite good.” They ate in silence for a while.
Eventually, when everyone was just about done, Hesiod pushed his chair back from the table, dropped his napkin on his plate, and sighed contentedly.
He raised his eyebrows, and looked at Renek with a piercing stare. “And now, Renek, please tell me of how you saved the day?” He leaned back in his chair a bit, and jutted his chin at Rimes. “Rimes, you can follow up with your side of the story.”
Renek settled back in his chair, thinking, I can see how this man leads. He may be a fop, but he knows how to be direct, commanding. And I’ll bet that he can spot discomfort and lying a mile away, he added to himself, thinking about the intrigue and politics that a courtier must face when vying for the attention of the king. I’d better be careful.
“Well, Lieutenant, I had been traveling in this direction since the cold of the early morning, trying to meet up with you…”
* * *
Hesiod seemed impressed with Renek’s tale.
“You mean that you managed to corral Rimes’ men, fight like a bear, and hold the Triols off until Rimes could form a defensive line, and escort them off the field, without getting hurt, after you had been marching all day long?” His eyes were wide as saucers. “That’s simply incredible, man!
“Rimes, what do you think this man could do with a full belly and a good night’s sleep?”
Rimes yawned hugely before answering.
“Rimes, my dear boy, cover your mouth. I don’t need to see your tonsils.” Hesiod smiled. “I think you may have had a bit too much wine and food.” He turned to Renek. “Poor lad’s used to the field rations. Is this the first time you’ve eaten with me, Rimes?” He nodded, then answered his own question. “I think so.
“Off to bed with you, Rimes. Renek and I have a bit more to talk about this eve. It was fascinating to hear your side of the tale as well, but I’ve got that.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am quite tired, and the day’s … activities were hard on my men, too. I’d like to check in on them before turning in.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Good night, captain.”
They watched Rimes walk out of the tent, back straight as an arrow despite his tiredness.
Renek turned to Hesiod as the tent flap closed. “He’s seems quite the soldier. Is he one of your best, Lieutenant?”
Hesiod waved at the air. “Please, call me Hesiod. It’s how I was known back at the court, and with none of the soldiers here anything else seems silly.” He looked at the tent’s exit. “Yes, he is a good man. He would be eaten alive back at the court, of course—too many people there looking to get a leg up by stepping on your dead body—but he is a good soldier, and would happily die for the kingdom, without thinking twice.
“I would like to prevent that, Renek.” He was looking directly at Renek with a sort of intensity and clarity that doesn’t come easily to most people, especially after a feast. “I need to know why you are here. I need to know if I can trust you.”
“You can trust me, Hesiod,” he said. He tried to put conviction in his voice, even while knowing that the Lieutenant would never trust a simple assertion.
“It’s not that simple, Renek.” He smiled, tapping his fingers on the table. “You came out of nowhere. You speak our language well, like a native.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet your armor is strange, and your sword is stranger.” Renek’s eyes widened, and Hesiod smiled. “Did you think that you were the only one with eyes that could see? I saw how y
ou appraised everything about you. I even saw when you noticed that the waiter was armed.” His smile broadened. “I don’t think you saw the dagger in his boot, though.
When Renek jumped, he smiled. “Don’t be so surprised. If I weren’t able to see the details, then I would have been poisoned, or knifed in the back, long ago.” He nodded, deep in thought. “That’s one of the reasons that I can’t trust you, not yet—it would be too easy for one of the Triols to have a good accent, and to arrange things in just the right way so as to seem trustworthy.” He leaned forward. “I already trust you quite a bit, as you no doubt have surmised—otherwise I wouldn’t have confided in you my lack of trust.” He straightened up in his seat. “Maybe I am betraying my own need of better men about me, the need for good advice, and better battle plans. Were you an enemy, it would be far better to have an enemy who does not know that I know he is an enemy.”
Renek smiled apologetically, a bit confused at the layers of thinking that Hesiod seemed to be able to think of simultaneously. “I don’t know how I can get you to trust me, then.”
“Well, you can start by answering my question. Why did you set out to find us?”
“Hesiod,” Renek said, shaking his head, “I’m not sure that you will believe me if I tell you the truth.”
“Try me.” There was no trace of his court laugh now, no smile. He was deadly serious.
And he’s probably armed to the teeth, just like that ‘chef’ was. Renek thought to himself. I hope he believes me. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“To be honest, I don’t know who I am, or where I came from. I woke up at the top of a mountain a few weeks ago, in the care of some extraordinary monks, and they took care of me. They said that I was ill to the point of death when I came to them. After they had cured my illness, they returned the things that I had with me when I came to them, and they were soldier’s things, mostly just this sword. Since they had been so kind to me, and not asked me for anything for their services, I decided that I would put my weapon to work for the people that protected them—and that would be your king’s army. You.”
Hesiod drummed his fingers on the table again, lost in thought. “You have no memories of where you came from?”
“None.” Renek shook his head, staring at his plate.
“Then how can you wield a sword as well as you and Rimes say that you do?” There was hesitation in his voice. Renek felt that, were it not for the war going badly, Hesiod’s distrust would have won. As it was, Renek didn’t know if he would be sleeping in a tent tonight, or at the side of the road.
Renek looked at the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry?” Hesiod leaned forward, a hand cupped to his ear.
Renek looked up at him and spoke clearly: “I don’t know. All I know is that everything becomes very clear, very easy, when I draw my sword. When I first did that in battle, it was against some brigands. They seemed to be slow to me—but apparently I was very fast.” He frowned deeply. “One of them called me ‘devil’ because I was so fast.
“It was similar to that on the battlefield today,” he continued. “I was able to see all around me.” He shook his head, and stared at the floor again. “No, that’s wrong. I could only see in front of me, but I could feel everyone around me. I could tell if they were off balance, if they were too tired to defend…I knew when your men were able to protect themselves enough to retreat safely, and I don’t know how I knew.” He looked up at Hesiod, allowing his expression to openly show how confused he was.
Hesiod looked at him from across the table. He picked his hand up and cradled his chin, obviously deep in thought.
“You’re right, I don’t believe your story," he said, finally. “It just isn’t right, Renek. I don’t know why you’re not sharing with me, but you’ll have your reasons, whatever they are.” He shook his head, and drained the last glass of wine.
“I’m telling you the truth,” Renek said, quietly, but Hesiod shook his head again.
“Well, there’s nothing for it, anyway,” Hesiod said. “It is getting late, and I am tired. Please return to your tent, and attend to me at dawn.” He shook his head and stood up. “We are in desperate need, for we must hold the Triols to this side of the river. I’m afraid that our casualties are going to increase significantly if we don’t do something—and while I don’t believe you, I am going to trust you enough to fight with us. I have to.”
He lifted his eyebrows as if disbelieving what he was saying. “I would like you to help me plan the next day’s battle, along with the remaining captains that are in our battalion. We should have twenty, each with a hundred men, but they seem to put themselves into danger before they let their men face it, and so we have only twelve captains left, and nearly none with their full complement of men.
“I will let you fight alongside Rimes for the next few days. Perhaps your … assistance can help us lose lives more slowly.” He shook his head again, and gestured to the door. “Now, get some rest. You’ll want plenty of energy to impress me tomorrow.
Hesiod looked directly into Renek’s eyes. “After all,” he continued, “A man with no past has no people to miss him if he were to … fall in battle.”
When he got back to his cot, Renek found himself unable to sleep. Hesiod had been too disturbing, too cautious. And for good reason.
“Who the heck am I? Do I have any family that misses me?” He muttered to himself before he finally dropped off.
Battle at Three Hills
Renek crouched behind the top of a hill, lifting his head just high enough to see the Triols. It was about an hour before dawn, but he could tell from their torches and campfires that their army was massive, much larger than the Kingdom’s. He shook his head, and crawled backwards down the hill to where he had left a burning torch stuck into the sandy soil.
Captain Rimes followed. As soon as they were low enough to stand up without being seen, they did so—behind some scrub brush as extra cover, in case enemy sentries happened by—and conversed in hushed voices.
“Captain, their army is much larger than I thought.” Renek shook his head again.
“They outnumber us at least four to one, I should think,” Rimes said.
“Yes, judging from the width of the fires, they have at least four thousand men. We have just shy of a thousand.” Renek picked up a small stick and started drawing on the ground. Rimes leaned in closely, holding the torch close so that they could see the drawing in the flickering orange light. “Their force lies here, between these three hills. They have a scouting party that circles the hills.” He looked up into the sky for a moment, pondering. Rimes waited patiently. Finally Renek began to speak, drawing his eyes down to his crude map.
“I think they have made a tactical error with their camp placement,” Renek began. He pointed at the three low spots, between the hills. “If we attack them, instead of waiting for them to come over the hill to us, then we can take advantage of that.
“I think they’ll pull their sentries back in quickly, and we can use the hills for cover, and flank them. We could send perhaps a third of our forces in two units around those hills and lay into their rear, and on the hills where their archers are likely to be.” Renek drew a deep breath, and let it out quietly. “Once we’ve taken out their archers, we can send ours up the hills, and fire into their center until we run out of arrows. We’ll have little chance of hitting our own men, since we’ll be surrounding them.”
Rimes shook his head. “Well, it’s basic strategy that the center has an advantage.” His lips drew taut. “But … maybe you’re right. If we can pull it off, we might have a chance. Two units flankin’, one after the other, will confuse them.” He pointed at the two hills that would surround the battle, should Renek’s plan take place. “But why won’t they send their archers up these two hills, here and here? They might see our men.”
Renek sighed. “You’re right, of course. But they should be focused on the front, not looking over thei
r shoulders. Plus, I don’t think they’ll go to the top of the hills, they would be too exposed. It would be easy to send a group of armored knights up the hill on horses, overtake them, and take the hills.” He smiled in grim satisfaction. “If I were the enemy, I would keep my archers close enough to protect them.”
Rimes laughed, softly. “Well sir, if you were the enemy, you wouldn’t have camped in such a vulnerable spot. And my—I mean, our—army would be in a worse spot for it.”
Renek chuckled as they turned to walk back to the camp.
* * *
Lieutenant Hesiod had already woken the camp, and by the time that Renek and Rimes returned to the commanding officer’s tent, men were scurrying about making preparations.
The two warriors were admitted, and escorted to Hesiod’s table, where they sat down to a meager breakfast of scrambled eggs and the dry, puck-like biscuits that seemed to be omnipresent around the camp.
“What news do you bring?” Hesiod demanded as he served them.
Rimes smiled. “Sir, Renek’s come up with a way of maybe defeating the Triol army.” He took a deep breath. “At least we’ll do a lot of damage if we can’t beat them.”
“Explain, and take turns so that you can eat. We have little time before the Triols will emerge and attack.”
“We have even less time, then,” Renek said. “We must mobilize and attack them. It is imperative.”
Hesiod looked at Renek for a moment. “We cannot attack. Our forces are vastly outnumbered.”
Renek sighed. He had been expecting this. “Surprise is important. Because we number so few, our attack will not be expected. That will give us the edge, each of our soldiers will count for two.”
Hesiod’s eyes narrowed, but he put his fork down and stood up. “Let us away, then. If we must attack first, we have little time indeed.”
* * *
The cavalry were reserved in the rear. The knights and their squires, about fifty men in total, gathered to the left side of the battle, out of sight. A group of fifty archers rode behind their saddles. The knights were to attack last, driving their horses deep into the outer ranks of the Triol army in an attempt to confuse and demoralize the enemy.
Legend of the Swords: War Page 9