Scholar ip-4

by L. E. Modesitt

  This time, the engineers began to set up the bombards a hundred yards back from the south side of the wall, approximately halfway up the slope, in the roughly cleared land holding low bushes and autumn-browned high grasses. The first target was the large dwelling at the top of the compound.

  Barely had the first stone-used for ranging, rather than wasting a crock of bitumen-thudded into the ground below the dwelling than a bell clanged and a good hundred hill fighters in furs and leathers appeared from structures all over the compound and raced toward the bombards. Rescalyn waited until they cleared the wall before ordering the charge by Fourth Battalion.

  Once the riders left the trees, half the hill fighters halted and immediately lifted bows, loosing shafts directly at the horsemen. While several riders went down, almost no horses did, and the hill fighters broke and retreated behind the wall.

  Quaeryt, seated on the mare beside Meinyt, waited to see what the governor would order next. Rescalyn recalled Fourth Battalion, and as they rode back across the uneven ground, the engineers resumed calibrating the two bombards.

  When the first crock of bitumen sprayed flame across the main hold house, the compound bell rang again, and even more figures in furs and leathers appeared and advanced toward the engineers, but the engineers managed to get two more shots away before withdrawing and leaving the field to the cavalry.

  This time Fourth and Fifth Battalion charged the defenders. The locals did not retreat, but attempted to stand their ground. Almost a third were cut down in the initial charge, but another wave of defenders appeared and rushed over the walls. Many of the reinforcements carried pikes, long spears, or even just sharpened poles.

  “Sixth Battalion. Stand ready!” ordered Skarpa.

  “Standing ready!” came the reply from the company officers.

  When the signal to attack came, Skarpa stood in the stirrups for an instant. “To the right! On me!”

  As Quaeryt followed Meinyt in the company’s advance, he saw exactly what Skarpa had in mind: Sixth Battalion would angle uphill, almost to the stone wall, then turn and charge downhill, in an effort to catch the defenders on their flank. If they tried to set their pikes and spears against Sixth Battalion, then Fourth and Fifth Battalion would have a clearer path of attack. If the defenders held to a position to halt Fourth and Fifth Battalion, Sixth Battalion could cut them down from the side.

  Quaeryt managed to stay close to Meinyt until the company was almost upon the defenders, some of whom swung their spears and makeshift pikes to face uphill. Not enough did, and most of the company’s riders avoided being spitted or brought down by the long pointed weapons.

  Quaeryt found a pointed pole aimed at him, with the defender firmly anchoring the butt in the hillside. He jerked the reins to the left at almost the last moment, then immediately brought the mare back to the right so that her weight levered the defender off his feet before she knocked down another who hadn’t seen Quaeryt coming.

  The scholar managed to beat down a third man with the staff, before again swinging behind Meinyt. In moments, the longer pikes were dropped amid the low bushes and high grasses rapidly being trampled flat. Then the defenders came up with long knives and did their best to slash at the legs of the company’s mounts.

  Horses began to fall, but not so swiftly as did the defenders, and as the numbers of the defenders who fell increased, the Telaryn riders could move more freely to avoid the slashes of those who remained. Quaeryt was appalled to see, even while he continued to use his staff, that the defenders never retreated. They stood and fought until they fell.

  The regiment advanced, almost ponderously, to the wall, while the engineers returned and resumed the bombardment of the largest dwelling. Other engineers moved forward to create gaps in the wall, through which the regiment advanced. Sixth Battalion moved uphill inside the wall, from point to point, building to building, often with long pauses in the action before the movement to the next structure. Above them all, the main dwelling flamed and then steadily burned down into a glowing mass of smoking embers.

  Quaeryt’s arms were sore, his back and legs stiff when Meinyt brought the company back together on the narrow flat below the ashes and coals that were all that remained of the holder’s main dwelling. He glanced downhill, his eyes studying the slope and spaces between buildings. In the late-afternoon sun, everywhere he looked were scattered bodies, most of them in leathers and fur. Many were women and youths, almost as many, it appeared, as the full-bearded men, all of whom seemed to bear multiple wounds.

  Quaeryt tried to count the company. When he finished, he was so surprised that he counted once more. While he doubtless was less than completely accurate, his enumeration revealed that Meinyt had lost only five men in a melee in which Quaeryt had been more than certain at least a squad’s worth of troopers had perished. He counted a third time, but the numbers remained unchanged.

  87

  Solayi dawned bright, clear, and chill, with gusty winds that were warm only by comparison to those of the night before. Quaeryt had spent the night in the hayloft of a barn, but he’d been surprised to see that, even so late as it was in the year, the first day of Finitas, the last month of the year, with just that month left before full winter descended on Tilbor, the loft was but half-filled with hay and wild grasses. Still, sleeping there had been far softer and warmer than where he had spent the previous nights. He almost felt guilty-almost-that he hadn’t had to do the night patrols assigned to Meinyt’s company or to join in the parties that carried bodies to the several pyres that had been built. That alone convinced Quaeryt that Rescalyn intended to have the regiment stay for at least several days, because in the past, the bodies had simply been disposed of in the buildings that were burned.

  At close to the second glass of the afternoon, a ranker arrived to summon Quaeryt to meet with the governor. As he accompanied the ranker, Quaeryt suspected that he’d once more be asked to deliver a homily. He only wondered if, this time, Rescalyn would suggest a subject.

  Rescalyn was waiting in the main room of the quarters attached to what might be called a coach or equipment house, seated at one end of a battered dining table, with two oil lamps on each side of the maps he studied. He gestured for Quaeryt to approach, but did not rise.

  “Sir?” Quaeryt wasn’t about to ask why he’d been summoned.

  “Tell me, scholar … why do you fight?” Rescalyn’s voice remained cheerfully hearty, as it seemed to be most of time, at least from what Quaeryt had heard every time he’d been around the governor.

  “You assigned me to Sixth Battalion, sir. What else would you have me do when they’re fighting?”

  “You were only required to observe.”

  “It has appeared to me that an observer in a battle or skirmish faces all of the risks with none of the advantages of a combatant.”

  “Do you not believe that to be true in life, as well, scholar?”

  Quaeryt smiled carefully. “I suppose that would depend on whether one’s circumstances place them in a situation resembling a battle.”

  “So it would. But is not most of life arranged in that fashion, if more concealed and obscured by custom, golds, and fashion?”

  “Certainly, some philosophers have claimed that to be so.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I do not believe it is always so, but it is more so than most would care to admit.”

  “That is a careful and scholarly reply, as befits a scholar.” Rescalyn smiled. “Neither life nor war are always either careful or scholarly … as I hope you have observed in your time with the regiment.”

  “I have indeed, sir. Might I ask what you plan next?”

  “You may ask. I’ll answer in general terms. We have crushed the four hill holders who declared rebellion. I have sent a courier under a parley flag to hill holder Zorlyn, with a message. That message offers a cease-fire to him and all remaining hill holders provided they swear immediate allegiance to Telaryn and its lord … and offer additional t
ariffs of two parts in ten. I wrote him that Telaryn is making the offer because he did not join the declared rebels. If he does not so swear, then he will suffer the fate of the deceased rebel holders … as will any holder who does not do so.”

  “Do you expect him to do so?”

  “What do you think, scholar?”

  “I have my doubts, sir.”

  “So do I, but, by making the offer, I appear reasonable.”

  “You also show the High Holders that, if tariffs need to rise, you will back such increases with force.”

  “That, too,” replied Rescalyn with a smile. “Oh … I expect another homily tonight … and would you convey to Undercaptain Gauswn that his services will also be required? You can use the large wintering barn.”

  Quaeryt had expected that “request.” He only had been surprised that Rescalyn hadn’t begun with it. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s all, scholar.”

  Quaeryt nodded and departed.

  When he returned to the barn, Gauswn was waiting for him.

  “Sir … are we-”

  “Yes, the governor has requested that we conduct services tonight in the large wintering barn. It appears we’ll be here for several days. If you’ll excuse me for a few moments, I need to report to Major Skarpa.”

  “He’s at the north end, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Quaeryt walked to the far end of the barn.

  Skarpa turned from the senior squad leader with whom he had been talking. “Scholar.”

  “Major … I just returned from talking with the governor. He asked that Gauswn and I perform the services tonight-in the large wintering barn. He also said that he’d sent a message to Holder Zorlyn, suggesting the holders acknowledge the primacy of Telaryn and its lord. He is awaiting a reply.”

  “I hadn’t heard that, but he has called for an all-officers’ meeting in a glass. We’ll be here for several days, then. At least two more. Thank you.”

  “I thought you should know, if you didn’t already.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Quaeryt headed back to find Gauswn and discuss the service. He also needed to find another “appropriate” topic for his homily.

  A glass later, he was sitting on a post in the corner of the barn, below the hayloft, thinking … and murmuring ideas to himself.

  “Youth and strength as Naming … no … Cyrethyn mentioned that. Who is better remembered-Caldor, Hengyst, or Rholan? No … that suggests that rulers aren’t to be trusted as much as followers of the Nameless … Rholan … the creation of a legend…”

  He paused. What about the idea that creating a legend is a form of cultural Naming … that legends effectively destroy truth … and why is it that most great men so wish to be a legend in their own time?

  Quaeryt smiled. He could do something with that idea … something that he could directly tie in to the acts and behaviors of the hill holders … while suggesting that form of Naming existed in great and powerful men of accomplishment everywhere … and that sometimes, only the intervention of the Nameless prevented even greater disasters. He wouldn’t mention that powerful men often claimed that the Nameless had made their excesses, which they regarded as triumphs, possible.

  88

  Quaeryt’s homily was well-received on Solayi night, and Rescalyn had seemed pleased, even with the words about the intervention of the Nameless to prevent complete disasters. Lundi morning was warmer. The wind had died down, and Quaeryt managed to wash the worst of the mud and blood off the one set of his trousers and tunics and hang them up in the barn, hoping that they would dry before the regiment moved on-whether against Zorlyn or back to Boralieu.

  He did spend some time, when he retreated to a quiet corner of the loft, studying the quarrel he had retrieved days earlier, and practicing some different types of imaging, beginning with imaging shafts of straw into barn beams, so that they protruded. Even if someone had been watching, it would have been highly unlikely that they would have seen a straw seemingly appear stuck to the ancient wood, not in the middle of a hayloft.

  After that, he checked the mare, thought, talked about matters with Meinyt, and fretted.

  Just before supper on Lundi evening, Skarpa appeared in the barn holding Sixth Battalion. “The governor’s called an officers’ meeting.” His eyes went to Quaeryt. “That includes you, scholar.”

  Quaeryt inclined his head.

  “I don’t think it’s good,” added the major.

  “I wouldn’t expect so. The hill holders have regarded themselves as beyond anyone’s law but their own for far too many years.”

  “Why did he even send a message, then?”

  “So that, after we’ve destroyed Zorlyn and a few more holders totally, he can make an offer again for those few remaining.”

  “They could just abandon their holds and wait him out,” pointed out Skarpa.

  “Do you really think so? You’ve told me how hard the winters are. Second, no one’s ever succeeded in carrying this kind of war to them before. They don’t really believe it can be done. They’ve been too isolated, and they’ve never dealt with someone who has the skill, determination, and the number of trained troops that the governor has. Even so, he’s just starting the destruction. He’s counting on the winter to largely finish it.”

  Skarpa nodded slowly. “I need to tell the other officers. We’re to meet immediately.”

  “I’ll come with you, then.”

  The two walked toward Gauswn, some twenty yards away, standing back from the east doorway.

  Quaeryt said nothing more as Skarpa gathered his officers, and they all walked to the meeting-in the same chamber where Rescalyn had received Quaeryt the day before. Once all the officers had appeared, the governor entered the room. He wasted little time on greetings of formalities.

  “As I reported to all of you yesterday,” he began, his voice shorn of the heartiness it so often possessed, “I sent a courier with escorts to Holder Zorlyn. My message offered an amnesty for those hill holders who had not taken up arms against Telaryn, provided they swore allegiance to Telaryn and its lord and provided that they paid tariffs equal to the rates of other High Holders, with an addition of two parts in ten for the next several years.” Rescalyn paused, then went on. “We received a reply less than a glass ago. The courier and his escorts were returned … and released three milles from here. When they reached our camp, two escorts were dead, strapped to their mounts; two were alive but wounded; and the courier was alive-but with a letter pinned to his chest with a knife.…”

  Quaeryt felt like wincing. The idiots … the absolute, boar-headed insufferable egotistical sow-slutted … They’re playing the plaques exactly as he had planned they would. And yet, there was no real proof, only his suspicions. Was he justified in planning what he did with only what he knew and sensed? And yet, waiting too long would create another problem.

  “I will read you the letter,” said Rescalyn, coldly. He cleared his throat.

  “To the one called governor-

  “The message you sent is an insult to Tilbor. It is also an insult to any self-respecting Tilboran, let alone to a holder whose lands have remained self-governing in his family for generation upon generation. Not even the most absolute of the Khanars ever insisted upon such outrageous tariffing. Nor did they bring in foreign scholars to change the way those who received their education at the Ecoliae were taught. Nor did they elevate mere crafters and merchants to the levels of those who have stewarded their lands wisely for all these many generations. After such acts, then for you to attempt to destroy all those who stand up for their time-honored rights and traditions is an even greater outrage, and one for which you and every man in your regiment will perish.

  “There can be but one reply to such ignorant arrogance and such self-serving egotism … and that is the reply you receive. I spare those whom I have returned solely so that you may know that I indeed am the one who sends this message…”

  Rescalyn paused. “The courier and the
two surviving ranker escorts told me that Zorlyn himself personally read them these words in the great hall of his hold, before two of them were cut down, and the others were maimed.”

  Rescalyn let the silence speak for him. Only after it became oppressive did he speak again. “I have offered amnesty and mercy twice. It has been spurned in the cruelest way. We will begin destroying this hold at dawn tomorrow. We will ride out by sunrise.” He paused but momentarily before saying, “That is all. Pass the word to your men.” This time, he stood silently as the officers, and Quaeryt, filed out.

  As he walked back to the barn, Quaeryt couldn’t help but admire Rescalyn’s planning and understanding of the hill holders.

  89

  Mardi morning was clear, but the skies to the northwest showed a haze that promised a change in the weather. The wind also blew from the northwest, hard enough to fan the fires set in all the structures in Demotyl’s holding into infernos within less than a quint after they had been set. By midmorning, the regimental column and its wagons, almost twice as many as had left Boralieu as a result of those recovered from the various holdings, had covered more than seven milles, and a third of the sky was covered with low, thick, gray clouds. The wind had turned intermittently biting.

  The first attack on the vanguard started at ninth glass, when several hundred riders galloped across the matted brown grasses of an upland meadow to within two hundred yards of the road and the lead companies. There they reined up and began to loose volleys of arrows at the Telaryn forces.