by Roland Green
The Holy Host of Styphon was also deployed with a bill-and-musket center with cavalry at both flanks. The Hos-Ktemnoi foot, under Mnephilos, were arranged in two rows, like the old tercios under Tilly. The first row was made up of the Royal Square of Hos-Ktemnos and two Great Squares, about ten thousand men. The second row held four thousand Zarthani Order Foot, three thousand of Styphon's Own Guard and three thousand assorted mercenary foot. No surprises there-but if Ptosphes could restrain himself and Soton didn't have anything up his sleeve, Kalvan just might have a surprise or two of his own.
A shout from the sentries made Kalvan turn. An armored barrel on horseback, decorated with red plumes, was approaching. A closer look revealed General Klestreus, an unwarlike figure-even if his three-quarter armor was blackened.
"What in the name of Styphon's Bollocks-"
Klestreus looked mildly insulted. "My place is beside my Great King, or I am no soldier." He wasn't, of course, but why be rude?
"A messenger has just arrived from Nostor. With luck and Dralm's Blessing, he may yet outlive his horse."
Kalvan nodded. "Yes, yes." Get on with it, man! There's a battle going on, or hadn't you noticed?
"He says there's a great host of Styphoni on its way through Nostor. He saw the banners of Royal House of Hos-Agrys, several Agrysi Princely Houses and Styphon's Red Insignia."
That was the reversed circular swastika (all too appropriate, Kalvan felt) of Styphon's device and the banner of the Red Hand and the Order of Zarthani Knights.
"How large is this army and did they bring their own supplies?" There would be neither food nor forage in battle ravaged Nostor-not after last year's campaigns.
"The scout said it would take two days for the wagons alone to pass. It was if the Styphoni had opened the very storehouse of Balph itself!"
Probably exactly what they did. That also explained all the ship traffic going up the Hudson; they'd been building up magazines of stores so that King Demistophon could fish in troubled waters at Styphon's expense. As long as somebody else was paying, his Princes-most of them worshippers of Allfather Dralm-would have few objections to his taking sides.
"How many soldiers are in this army?"
"He had to be careful and there was not much time-"
"But?"
"He thought their force might be as great as fifteen thousand. Most were mercenaries."
"How much time do we have?"
"He doesn't know. He ran his first horse to death and had to walk three candles before he found another."
"Did he give you any kind of guess?"
Klestreus cringed, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news.
Under different circumstances it might have been funny, but now it was temper boiling. "Out with it, man!"
"They could hardly come upon us in less than five days."
That was good news, or better than he'd expected from Klestreus' expression. They could fight today's battle without the Styphoni receiving any reinforcements. If the Hostigi won, they could turn the Agrysi invasion with ease; if they lost, it wouldn't matter how many vultures came to pick over the corpse of Hostigos.
The one question remaining in Kalvan's mind was: why were the Styphoni fighting at all today, if they had a chance of being reinforced? Were they that short of supplies, or did they distrust Demistophon that much? It was likely that Demistophon had been pushed into this attack by the Inner Circle for allowing the Great Council of Dralm to meet in Agrys City. Or, had Soton and Mnephilos been carried away by the opportunity to smash Kalvan's force by their own unaided efforts?
No point in speculating too far ahead of the facts, and in any case Klestreus wasn't leaving now that his message had been delivered. Kalvan nodded, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"There is more, Your Majesty."
I don't know if I can stand any more. "Continue, General."
"Prince Armanes has taken a gut wound."
Kalvan winced. Here-and-now that usually meant a lingering, painful death for a good and loyal man. It also gave him an excuse to tether Prince Ptosphes with the cooler head of Count Phrames-a much wiser counselor than poor Armanes.
"I need a favor."
Klestreus swelled until it looked as if he'd burst his armor like an over-burdened lady's corset. "Anything, you command. Your Majesty."
"I want you to ride to Count Phrames and tell him that it is Our will that he replace the wounded Armanes on the left wing."
"It will be done, Sire."
"Then, I want you to personally escort the Prince to the field infirmary and see that he receives proper care."
"With great pleasure, Your Majesty. I shall see that he knows it is your will."
That was three things accomplished: a noncombatant sent out of the way; Armanes given a fighting chance to live, although he would doubtless not appreciate being carried away from the battle; and a trusted general sent to keep watch on one whose judgment was no longer reliable.
As he was turning on his horse, Klestreus spun around in the saddle. "Oh, I beg Your Majesty's pardon for forgetting. Six hundred Nyklosi peasant levies have arrived. I led them to the center before I learned of Prince Armanes' wound. And, there is word from Tarr-Hostigos; Her Majesty, Great Queen Rylla, has gone into childbirth pangs."
"WHAT?"
Kalvan spent a moment suppressing several unproductive but emotionally satisfying urges, such as having a heart attack or strangling Klestreus with his bare hands. Finally, he said, very slowly, "I wish you had told me this first."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. It seemed to me-"
"Never mind what it seemed." Although perhaps Klestreus had a point; the outcome of today's battle did make more difference to Hos-Hostigos than the outcome of Rylla's labor. Maybe even to him, but if some god came and told him that the price of certain victory today would be Rylla's life…
There were advantages to not believing in gods who struck that kind of bargain-or any other, Kalvan decided.
After a few moments of mulling over all the terrible things that might happen to Rylla and the baby, he realized that Klestreus had already left to carry out his orders. A breeze was blowing now, tearing the gray and white smoke into tatters, and he was able to see the entire Styphoni center. The huge royal Square flanked by the smaller Great Squares; Gustavus Adolphus might have seen such sights at Breitenfeld or Lutzen.
A great many things could go wrong with his plans today, but somehow they seemed far less personal than what was going on in the royal bedchambers at this very moment.
He was wrenched out of his thoughts by the harsh coughing sounds of a badly winded horse making its way to the top of the rise.
"Did you give Alkides my orders?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Major Nicomoth said. "Though not before he wept and ranted as though it was his children being dismembered!"
Kalvan wasn't surprised. It hadn't been easy for him to order a dozen of his mobile six- and eight-pounders spiked and rendered useless, but that was far better than having them turned and used on the Hostigi center. Besides, the Styphoni were a big fish, requiring bait to match.
"You gave Chartiphon his orders?"
"Yes. The Captain-General will order the center to advance as soon as you give the signal. General Harmakros is also bringing the remainder of the reserves into position."
May Dralm be with you, Harmakros, thought Kalvan. And Ptosphes, too; there would be nobody to pull the Prince's bacon out of the fire if he charged the Knights again and Ptosphes had to fall back. Still, if Prince Leonnestros in command of the Styphoni left wing continued to be as rash as he'd proven himself in the past… Kalvan was sure he knew what Soton's orders were: force the Hostigi to commit their army until it is worn out, then grind them into the earth without mercy.
Kalvan watched as Harmakros threaded his Army of Observation through the gap between the center and the right wing. Then the wind changed direction and all he could see was a white cloud streaked with gray ribs. When the smoke cleared agai
n, he could see that Harmakros' heavy cavalry were already forming the shield for the mobile artillery.
It seemed to take an hour for the dozen artillery pieces to move into position on the knoll, but Kalvan knew it was really only ten or fifteen minutes. Already more than half of the three thousand dragoons had passed through the Hostigi lines. It was at times like this that he missed a good watch more than anything except a hot shower.
Kalvan was betting his last dollar (or in this case, Hostigos crown) that Prince Leonnestros, eager to succeed Mnephilos as Lord High Marshal of Hos-Ktemnos, could not sit still under the fire of a dozen Hostigi artillery pieces. If this ruse didn't come off, Kalvan didn't want to think about what would happen to the Hostigi gunners who in blind faith were standing behind guns that couldn't fire-and they wouldn't be the only casualties.
The Army of Observation and the mobile artillery were approaching their position now. Off to the left through all the smoke, Kalvan thought he saw the left wing shifting again. He couldn't see clearly, and in any case there was not time to find out or do more than hope the left would hold for a few more minutes.
Kalvan raised his arm, and the primitive Roman candle he'd had Master Thalmoth make exploded over the Hostigi center. Twelve thousand arquebusiers, musketeers and pikemen moved forward, each pikeman holding a buckler or shield as well as a pike. Some of the shields bore the devices of recently deceased nobles of the finest houses of Hos-Harphax. Behind them came fifteen hundred halberdiers, several thousand peasant militia and the four thousand Ktethroni pikemen.
Kalvan raised his other arm. The second Roman candle burst, while sunlight blazed off helmets, armor and gun barrels as the cavalry troopers of the right wing began to mount up.
TWENTY-THREE
I
Xykos was so tall and strong that in his home village his nickname was "the Bull." Still, the double weight of armor and shield was beginning to tell on him as he tramped across the rocky ground; he wondered how those without his strength were faring. To be sure, his shield was twice the average height, large enough that two musketeers were moving half-crouched behind it.
Halfway to the Styphoni lines and still not a shot fired from the blue and orange square ahead. Excellent fire discipline, he thought, is how Kalvan would put it. He'd been fortunate enough to partake in some pike drills led by the Great King himself; a great man, unlike many of noble blood, who was not afraid to get his hands soiled. My brothers will not falter, even when the bullets come. We are the Veterans of the Long March.
They were the survivors of four times their number of foot who had died at Tenabra and the days following when Grand Master Soton chased after them. Xykos himself had been only a member of the Hostigi militia before Tenabra; now he was one of the four hundred men of the Hostigos regiment, the Veterans of the Long March, so named by Prince Ptosphes himself.
Xykos had been blooded long before Tenabra; first at the Battle of Listra Mouth, then later at Fyk, where he'd liberated his armor from the dead body of a baron of Sask.
Tenabra had been his first battle where the Hostigi had lost, all thanks to that Dralm-damned traitor Balthar! After Balthar and his troops had bolted, leaving a gap that the Styphoni had quickly exploited; the Ktemnoi billmen had mowed down the Hostigi foot at Tenabra like a farmer's scythe in a field of barley. Somehow he knew that Balthar would not have done his foul treachery if King Kalvan had been in command. Prince Ptosphes was a fair ruler and a good leader of men, but he was no gods-sent Kalvan!
Xykos' bones would have been fertilizing the fields of Tenabra now if he hadn't been lucky enough to unhorse a Zarthani Knight with his two-handed sword and take his mount. The charger had proved to be a valued friend, once Xykos had proved who was boss, but the journey back to Hostigos had been a long one and his friend had given his life so that Xykos could see his newborn son again.
Vurth, his wife's father, had argued after his return from Tenabra that he'd paid his debt to their Prince and that he should remain and tend his farm. "Let the gods settle matters between Great Kings!" had been his father-in-law's advice. However, Xykos knew where his loyalty and duty lay; if they didn't stop these Styphoni dogs here and now there would never be any peace-or even a Hostigos. Besides, he was now one of the double-pay Veterans of the Long March; the extra silver would help greatly when it came to buying new stock for the farm after the war.
Then Xykos saw a most wondrous sight: from either side of the enemy Great Square ahead, a line of musketeers moved out like a hinged arm. Before he'd covered a dozen more paces, there was a thunderclap of muskets and the buzz of metal hornets in the air. He heard cries of pain all around and staggered as his shield slowed a bullet enough that it only dented his breastplate. He stumbled for a moment, then caught his footing and fell back into step with the men to either side.
Another volley! This time Xykos felt a bullet crease his helmet. How much longer before Petty-Captain Lytog gave the order to halt and return fire? Each musketeer was carrying two or three loaded smoothbores taken from a Hostigos armory filled to the rafters with the loot of Kalvan's victory at Chothros. A new ditty sung in Hostigos taverns told how Kalvan took cheese and bread to Hos-Harphax and returned with steel and lead.
Two more Styphoni volleys, each more ragged than the last slammed, into the lines, then the petty-captains gave the order to halt. Xykos set his shield and caught his breath, while the musketeers planted their musket rests. In the third Hostigi rank, he was close enough to the enemy front to make out individual men. The Ktemnoi Sacred Squares were dressed in blue shirts and breeches, with brown boiled-leather jacks for the musketeers and polished steel breastplates for the billmen, set off by orange sashes. They all wore the high-combed helmets Kalvan called morions with orange and blue plumes. The Royal Square was dressed differently; they all wore silvered armor, like the Saski bodyguard, and orange stripes down their sleeves and the sides of their breeches.
"FIRE!"
The first Hostigi volley tore into the Ktemnoi front rank as if they were a battery of artillery guns firing case shot. A great cheer rose up from the Hostigi ranks. The second volley and third were almost as devastating; the fourth less so. Still the Ktemnoi squares held. Now the musketeers were supposed to sling their weapons and fall back; instead many picked up the bills of the wounded or dead, while others drew their swords and held their places.
"Pikes advance. CHARGE!"
As he began to run toward the Sacred Square straight ahead, he was amazed at how quickly the Ktemnoi rear ranks moved forward to replace their fallen comrades. It was an admirable display of courage. He would make a toast to Galzar after he buried their bones. The remaining Ktemnoi musketeers fired a last ragged volley at almost point-blank range, then fell back, leaving the billmen to take the Hostigi charge.
There was a cry from ten thousand throats "KILL THE DEMON SPAWN!"
The billmen began their charge.
The Hostigi reply came "DOWN STYPHON!"
The two armies collided with such a shock that the first two Hostigi ranks disappeared before Xykos' eyes. He was eight ranks deep into what had once been the Ktemnoi line before he came to a stop with his pike head buried halfway to the end of its iron head into a billman's hip. He dropped the pike and drew the two-handed sword Boarsbane from its scabbard across his back. He had the sword blade out in time to parry a blow from a billhead. His next stroke sent the edge through the billman's shoulder, splitting him down to his tripes.
Xykos was trying to free his sword from bone and sinew when another billman charged. The billhook was less than a hand's length from his face when a pikehead pierced the billman's neck and the billhook clanged harmlessly against his helmet. He wrenched his blade free, threw it up into the air and brought it down so hard it split the billman's head in twain, helmet and all.
He looked around to see who his savior was, but Ktemnoi and Hostigi were so tangled and blood-splattered it was difficult to tell friend from foe. And so jammed together there was no hope of mo
ving to a better spot. Maybe this place was good enough; he could kill Styphoni here as well as anywhere!
II
Count Phrames rode over to the left wing at the head of the King's Heavy Horse, two hundred and sixty volunteer noblemen "too thick-headed or well-born to fight in a reasonable fashion," as King Kalvan put it. All of the men-at-arms wore full-plate armor, vambraces, visored helms, heavy lances and at least one pistol in a saddle-holster-their one concession to Kalvan-style warfare. While Phrames realized their limited value, he still couldn't help but respect them for their loyalty to an older and more honorable way of war.
Warfare under Kalvan was more efficient, but also more deadly than before. Also, much of the pageantry, like that of several hundred men-at-arms in silvered or gilded armor on brightly caparisoned horses, was now all but gone.
It was the Great King's plan to use the Heavy Horse as an anvil to blunt the wedge of the Zarthani Knights, who had earlier cut through Ptosphes' Army of the Besh like a poniard through a wheel of cheese. By Dralm's Grace, Kalvan was familiar with this novel formation of the Knights and said there was insufficient time to school the Hostigi in the counter wedge.
So there would be only the anvil of the King's Heavy Horse and the stout hearts of the Hostigi to prevent the Zarthani Knights from dispersing the left wing and outflanking the center as they had at Tenabra. While he rarely wished ill for any man, for Prince Balthar of Beshta Phrames hoped there was an eternity of torture waiting in the Caverns of Regwarn.