by K. J. Parker
I ask you. Still, I imagine you tend to think like that when your head’s two yards off the ground. “No,” I said. He clicked his tongue at me and got on with it.
There is no Spendone forest now, so you have no way of knowing if I’m telling the truth; but it was a lovely place, if you like nature and stuff. It covered a gently sloping valley down to the river; spindly old twisted holm oaks with a canopy so dense it cut out the top light, so apart from occasional clumps of thick holly where a tree had blown down (good cover for wild boar), no underbrush, you could move about fairly freely. The road followed the river, naturally. It was paved with roadstone, like the military highways, wide enough for two carriages to pass, and tolerably flat all the way, and where it crossed the Spen—which is pretty wide and deep at that point—there was a proper pile-and-plank bridge, which one of my predecessors built, and a very nice job he made of it. We sauntered down one of His Majesty’s huntsmen’s neatly trimmed rides and picked up the road easily enough. Nice and cool under the shade, with the dappled sunlight slanting down between the crooked branches—“Someone’s been along here recently,” Nico said.
“His Majesty persecuting the deer,” I said.
“A lot of people.”
“You ever seen one of those hunting parties? Auges had fewer cavalry when he conquered Bessagene.”
I mention that because I’m an honest witness, especially for the prosecution. I was still thinking, Nico, what a clown, he fusses about every damn thing, when we came round a corner and saw dead bodies.
I talked to Nico about it afterwards and he admits he had the same thought as me; bandits, because the bodies had all been stripped naked, every last manufactured object removed. We knew they were Imperials because of the skin colour. Nico’s first thought was; oh God, the emperor—ambushed out hunting by thieves or a free company. Mine was merchants, a caravan taking an unauthorised short cut and paying an exorbitantly high toll.
“We’ll have to report this when we get back,” Nico said. “We ought to bury them, only maybe we shouldn’t move anything, they’ll want to send investigators—”
A third possibility had occurred to me. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Keep your voice down,” I said, “there’s a good lad.”
“You think there’s a chance we can catch whoever did this?”
I looked at him. “I bloody well hope not,” I said.
His eyes opened very wide; then he nodded, and headed back to pass along the word; dead quiet, keep together. I was thinking, maybe it would be sensible to get off the stupid road. But we had big carts and pack animals, and all that heavy equipment. And maybe it really was bandits, after all.
I liked that theory and I was sad when it died. Which happened when we came into the long, straight bit of road that leads to the bridge, which wasn’t there any more. That was where they’d sprung their main attack, hiding up in the dense holly brakes on either side of the road and taking the column in both flanks and rear. Most of the killing was done there; first a couple of point-blank volleys of arrows, then javelins, then closing with spears and axes. At least some of the men at the front of the column had tried to swim the river; we found their bodies still in full armour, caught up in reed beds and branches fallen across the river. The rest may have made a fight of it, I don’t know; if they did, it made not the slightest difference. All the bodies were stripped bare. We didn’t count them, it would’ve taken all day, so it’s just my best estimate: between six and seven thousand. We didn’t find a single milkface among the piles of dead, so they must have retrieved them and buried them somewhere else. I don’t suppose it took them long.
Fighting soldiers get used to that sort of thing. I’m not a fighting soldier, I build bridges. So I sneaked off when Nico’s attention was elsewhere, looking for somewhere I could throw up in modest seclusion. I saw a thicket of holly clustered round a stand of tall ash trees and made a beeline for it. And came face to face with General Priscus and most of his senior staff.
Face to face literally. They’d flayed the faces off the bone and nailed them to the ash trunks at head height, like squirrel skins put up to dry.
I’m not a brave man. But Nico is, and when he came running to see what I was screaming and yelling about, it hit him like a hammer, I could tell; his knees folded up and he sat down on his aristocratic arse, thump. Which made me feel a bit better, some time later.
At the time, though, I was so terrified I couldn’t even puke. Felt like there wasn’t a single bone in my body. I grabbed Nico’s arm, pulled him to his feet and dragged him out of there, back onto the road. “Not a word,” I hissed in his ear, “to anyone.” He nodded, he couldn’t speak. First time I’d ever seen him go all to pieces. Couldn’t find it in my heart to blame him.
I got the column moving, somehow. Double defensive, scouts, word perfect by the book. But we weren’t going anywhere in a hurry, of course, because the bridge was broken down. Could’ve fixed it, needless to say, that’s what we do, but it simply didn’t occur to me. Then some junior lieutenant who’d somehow managed to keep his brain working pointed out a track where a large number of men had gone off in a hurry.
My mind had frozen, but I made it get going again. I had the lads unload everything we could carry off the carts and turn the pack mules loose; tens of thousands of stamena’s worth of good military equipment dumped in what we now had to consider enemy territory, but to be honest I couldn’t give a damn. Then we headed off down the beaten track, hoping and praying that the men who’d made that track were our lot, and still alive.
One out of two isn’t so bad. The track led uphill for maybe a mile, then down into a little dip, and there the remainder of the army, about six thousand men, made their last stand. They can’t have done much of a job of it. Once again, the dip was fringed all round with thick holly, out of which came arrows, then javelins, then the final rush. They’d have been surrounded on all sides, and it would have been over very quickly. I knew straight away that it must’ve been the last stand, because once it was over, the enemy found time to celebrate, let off steam. They cut off the dead men’s heads, hands and dicks, heaped them up in three tall, neat stacks. About a dozen poor souls—prisoners, I assume—they’d nailed up on trees and used for a spear-throwing contest. They’d stripped the dead bodies clean, as before, and a few they’d flayed, and they’d stuck up the head of a milk-white horse on a pike. Whatever lights your candle, I suppose. I have to admit, they’d earned the right.
Among his many talents, Nico can do arithmetic. “Thirteen thousand,” he said. “What’s the strength of the City garrison?”
I didn’t reply, because he knew the answer as well as I did. Somehow, the bastards had managed to lure General Priscus and the entire home army into this abattoir. Which meant there was nobody in town minding the store.
6
Nobody said much on the way to the City, which suited me fine. I needed to think.
Not only had they disposed of the entire Imperial army in the home province, they’d also acquired thirteen thousand suits of regulation lamellar armour—the finest in the world, goes without saying—ditto helmets, shields; something in the order of a quarter of a million arrows, all precision-made and meticulously quality controlled; twenty-six thousand high-class boots; thirteen thousand all-wool tunics, ditto cloaks, ditto trousers, knapsacks, round felt hats, cotton scarves to stop the shoulder straps of the cuirass chafing the neck; cooking pots, portable tripods for hanging cooking pots off, tools for cooks, carpenters, cobblers, surgeons, farriers, armourers, smiths—nothing but the best for our brave lads in the Imperial service, and, though that can be a bit theoretical out on the frontiers, back in the home provinces they really mean it. Pampered isn’t too strong a word. I don’t suppose the new owners of all that kit had ever seen so many things all together in one place in their entire lives, and none of it junk. All real quality stuff you’d be proud to own.
What’s this, thinking about material objects at a time like this? Sha
me on me; well, yes. But those material objects would have a direct bearing on what happened next. Not just a horde of victorious savages. A horde of savages with the best arms and equipment money could buy. And if they weren’t headed straight for Town, they needed their heads examined. Town; where we were going. Think about that.
We thought about it. “There’s no guarantee,” said one of my captains, who I’d never had much time for, “that the City’s still standing. If they could do that to the Guards—”
“That’s stupid,” interrupted Menas; he’s in charge of supply. “They’d never get past the wall. People have been trying for a thousand years. You’d need a siege train, sappers—”
“Which they may well have,” the captain snapped back. “Don’t you get it? We can’t assume anything about these people. For all we know—”
“I think Menas is right,” Nico said quietly. “The wall stopped the Echmen seventy years ago, and they had all the artillery in the world. Nothing’s been invented that could put a dent in the wall.”
“Fine,” said a lieutenant, career specialist; he’d been badly rattled by what he’d seen. “So there they are, sitting down all round the wall, making sure nobody gets in or out. And then we show up. How long do you think we’d last?”
I cleared my throat. I usually keep quiet until my mind’s made up, let them all talk themselves out. “We have to go back,” I said.
The captain was furious with me. “With respect—”
I held up my hand. “You may well be right,” I said. “It could easily be too late. There would be no reason for the gates to be shut. If they sent an advance party dressed like civilians, they could walk straight in, right past the sentries. And you could be right, too,” I added, looking at the lieutenant. “If they’re sat down in front of the walls, there’s no way we could get past them and into the City. Nevertheless, we’ve got to go. There’s nobody else.”
“What about the Fleet? The crews, the marines. At least some of them must’ve got away.”
I shook my head. “They’ve got no reason to think anything’s wrong, beyond their own disaster. I wouldn’t be in any hurry to get back to the City if I was in their shoes. And by the time the news reaches them, it’ll probably all be over, one way or the other.”
Nico looked at me. “If General Priscus took the whole Guards, then all that’s left inside the walls is the Watch.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Six hundred bent coppers. Which is why we’re going, soon as it’s light.” I paused, looked round, to signify that I didn’t want to hear anything else from anyone. “So I suggest we all use our imagination and pretend we’re soldiers.”
Nobody said anything. They stood up and drifted away. God help me, I couldn’t blame them for their lack of enthusiasm. From their perspective, the world was about to end. Not mine, of course, because I’m not Robur, I have only a tenuous professional attachment to the City, I can envisage a world getting along reasonably well without it—men and women on small farms in places that don’t merit a mention on any map, but where the sun rises and sets, summer follows winter, wheat and barley somehow manage to grow, calves are born and cows give milk, all without the help or permission of the emperor. Now Nico and his compatriots couldn’t get their heads around an idea like that. They couldn’t imagine a world without the City any more than they could imagine a world without a sun; it would be dark and cold and silent, and you might as well be six feet under for all the good being alive would do you.
I wanted a good night’s sleep, in anticipation of a long and trying day ahead of me, but I wasn’t going to get it. Around midnight, when I’d finally finished all the planning and figuring out I had to do and was just about to lie down and close my eyes, I heard a gentle tap on the tent post. I sighed. “What?” I said.
In came Nico, and three other officers. My guess is, they couldn’t sleep, and they had the kind of generous nature that reckons insomnia isn’t something you hoard all for yourself, you share it with you friends and loved ones. I beckoned them in and fumbled with a tinder box. The lamp was still warm. “What?” I repeated.
They looked at each other. Then Stilico—captain, very good engineer, twenty years’ service but no chance of promotion—did one of those dying-sheep coughs. “We didn’t want to talk in front of the others,” he said.
“Of course. What’s on your mind?”
“Seriously.” He looked at me. “How bad do you think it is? Really.”
“Really?” I closed my weary eyes and rubbed my eyelids. “I honestly don’t know. It could be that Priscus wasn’t stupid enough to leave the City undefended while he went off chasing phantoms in the woods. Maybe he was able to call in another unit, and when we get there we’ll find the walls bristling with spearpoints and the granaries full to bursting. Or maybe not. Maybe we’ll get there and find a pile of split stone blocks and ashes. Or maybe we’ll be the only Imperial forces who can get inside the walls before whoever it is brings up his siege ladders. Talking of which,” I added, “has anyone else realised that we left behind all our tools and equipment? Exactly what you’d need if you wanted to build catapults, siege towers, battering rams—” I saw Nico’s jaw drop. I forgave him. Usually he’s quite bright. “A hundred and thirty barrels of nails,” I said. “Twenty-seven five-ton winches. If by some miracle I get out of this alive, remind me to execute myself for gross negligence.”
I realised I wasn’t helping matters, so I shut up. Silence, for a long time. Then Artavasdus (only nineteen and his dad paid cash for his commission, but he’s sharp as a tack) said, “So let’s think the unthinkable, shall we? How would it be if we didn’t go home?”
Ah, I thought, so that’s why they’re here. “Good idea,” I said. “In which case, we turn around and head back to the coast, where I suggest we split up. What we’ve got is an amazing advantage; we’re all skilled men. We’re carpenters, masons, smiths, the world loves us, there’s never enough of us to go round. Look at me. Even when I didn’t belong to myself, I was valuable. It’s your actual philosopher’s stone. Being able to saw a straight line turned me into solid silver in someone’s pocket, which is how I got to be colonel of a fucking regiment. We split up, we melt away, we have long, happy lives making ourselves useful. Believe me, you can get away with anything if you’ve got a trade. You can even be the wrong colour, so you blueskins will get along just fine when the rest of your kind are feeding the crows.” I smiled at him; at that moment, he hated me so much I don’t know why he didn’t go for my throat. “Or we can go back and try and save your city, your people and your blue skins. It’s up to you. I’ll go along with what the rest of you boys want.”
Nico was breathing through his nose, like a bull. Stilico looked as though I’d just put my hand down his trousers. That left Genseric. His blood is as blue as bilberry juice, but he was a bad boy about eight years ago and ended up with me. Actually, I like him, he’s all right. And he was looking like he’d just trodden in quicksand. “Well?” I asked him.
“Actually,” he said, “we had a talk and decided that whatever you decide is fine by us.”
I nodded. “You want it to be my fault,” I said, “that’s perfectly reasonable. After all, it’s what I’m for. All right, I’m going back. You lads can do what you see fit.”
“And why would you do that?” Artavasdus said; he was still burning angry. “After all, you said it yourself. It’s not your city and we’re not your people. Your people will be the other side of the wall. Makes no sense.”
I raised my hand. “Artavasdus, I’m sorry I called you a blueskin. I only did it to make sure you were listening. I’m going back because it’s my duty. You don’t have to, because duty is a very bad reason for committing suicide. More to the point, I’m guessing there’s four thousand terrified men outside this tent having this same conversation. Whatever we decide, we’ve got to sell it to them, so I suggest we make our decision and then clarify our thinking.” I put my hand down. “Over to you.”
&
nbsp; Nico looked round; he was now the spokesman. “The men want to stay together,” he said. “They reckon that if we split up, the savages will pick them off and they won’t have a chance. After all, we do rather stand out in a crowd.”
I made a show of thinking for a moment. “All right,” I said. “In that case, if we stick together, wherever we go we’re under siege. So, makes sense to head for somewhere with high walls. You have my permission to tell them that from me,” I added.
“We tell them you’re going home.”
I shrugged. “If you want.”
“The men will follow you anywhere. You know that.”
Actually I didn’t, not until he said it, and for a moment I felt like I couldn’t breathe. That’s one thing about human beings I don’t see the point in: love. It does nobody any good. You love someone, and either they let you down or they die. Either way, you end up crucified. What the hell is the point in that? See above, about enemies helping and friends being the source of all bad things.
But I meant what I’d said. My job is for it all to be my fault. So, if the men followed me out of love (you can use a different word, but that’s what it amounts to) and I got them all killed—my fault. My responsibility. That’s why they pay me the big money, slightly less than you’d get for playing the flute in the Court orchestra.
“If you think it’ll help, you tell them anything you like,” I said. “Me, I’m going to go to sleep now.”
They trooped out, properly solemn, and left me feeling a bit guilty. Why? Because I had one card up my sleeve, and I’d neglected to mention it. Not a marvellous card; maybe a jack or a ten. But if I’d mentioned it, they’d have built their hopes up, and as far as I’m concerned, hope is also on the major-pests list, about two down from love. Therefore I entertained hope, so they wouldn’t have to.
7