“What need to drive them away, now that we have means to gather provisions?” Sumbavu snapped. “We could return, and our Temple officers learn to command the soldiers, then set forth again. It would not be so great for you and your outlanders, would it? You must win yourself, for what purpose I do not know. But I tell you again, I know you do not have the good of the Temple first in your heart, soldier of the south. Were I not guarded by the faithful of the Temple, I do not think I would return from this march alive.” He stalked off into the night, his bodyguard following him closely.
“Go pick the most useless slaves of your group,” MacKinnie told Mary Graham. “The blunderers, the tired animals and those you didn’t make new collars for, the wagons ready to fall apart, get them all out of here.”
She studied him closely. “I’d almost think that’s why you brought all that useless junk. And you added that group of convicts to my picked men … Did you expect this?”
“Freelady, just get them moving,” Stark said. “The colonel’s got enough problems.” He guided her to the granaries, then set men to loading the wagons which were to go back to the city.
Two hours later, Sumbavu was ready to depart. He stood with MacKinnie at the camp gate, watching the sky. “In an hour the moons will be gone. You have not seen the enemy?”
“No, Father,” MacKinnie told him. “But they will have men out there.”
“There is less chance they will attack me at night than by day,” the priest said. “In the dark they will not know that I have only the Temple soldiers, and they will be afraid.” He watched the setting moons in silence until darkness came over the plains.
“I leave you my blessing,” Sumbavu told MacKinnie. “Perhaps I have misjudged your intentions. May God accompany you.”
“Thank you, Father,” MacKinnie said. He ordered the gates opened and watched the guardsmen and wagons leave. Each swordsman carried a bag of grain on his back in addition to his weapons, and the carts were creaking under the load. Convicts and slaves, lured on the expedition with promises of freedom and now sent back toward the city with staggering loads on their backs, old oxen, carts with creaking wheels, all filed out with the proud guardsmen. A thousand soldiers and three hundred bearers left the camp before the gates were closed. MacKinnie returned to his tent. After a few moments, Stark and Longway joined him by his fire.
“They’ll never make ten kilometers by morning,” Stark said. “Not the way they loaded themselves.”
“I thought the priest gave them reasonable loads,” Longway said. “They did not seem excessive.”
“Sure, but the Trader gave them the pick of the loot before they set out. Wasn’t a man there wasn’t carrying five, ten kilos of junk stripped off the dead or picked up in this camp.”
“That was generous of you,” Longway said. “Extraordinarily so.”
“There will be other loot,” MacKinnie told them.
“We’ll have plenty chances to get rich, but they won’t. They’ve earned their share.”
“Or will,” Stark muttered. MacKinnie looked quickly at him, then stared at the fire in silence as Mary Graham joined the little group.
“Best get some sleep,” MacKinnie told her. “We start early in the morning, and it’s late enough now.”
“I don’t really need it,” she laughed. “I ride a cart, remember?”
“Lady, you can sleep in that cart under way, you’ll be the greatest soldier’s wife ever lived,” Stark observed. “I’d rather walk, the way those things fall into every hole in the ground.”
Mary laughed, looked around furtively, then said, “You wouldn’t think the Empire would fall if we told them how to put springs in the carts, would you? But I guess it’s too late now.” She looked around her at the camp. The spear and shield troops were asleep in place around the perimeter, their shields propped up behind the palisade, pikes and spears ready at hand, while guards patrolled outside the perimeter. “I suppose I should start the breakfast fires. No rest for the cooks.”
“Don’t bother,” MacKinnie said. “There won’t be breakfast in the morning. Another hour and I’ll roust out the men I’m taking with me. You can feed the rest when we’ve gone if the enemy gives you time. I’ll leave MacLean in command here.”
“You’re dividing your force, Trader?” Longway asked. “That seems unreasonable. How long will you be gone?”
“One day should do it, one way or another. Don’t worry about it, Academician, we won’t leave you for long.”
“What is all this?” Mary asked. “There’s something strange going on here! I don’t think I like this at all.”
“Just get some rest,” MacKinnie told her. “Or if you can’t do that, please excuse me while I sleep. We’ll have to be up early, Hal. Have the guard call me an hour before first light. My apologies, but I can’t think clearly when I’ve had no sleep, and the enemy is still far too dangerous for my mind to be fogged.” He strode to his tent and closed the flap. After a few moments, Longway went back to his quarters.
“Hal, what is wrong with him?” Mary asked. “There’s something going on, isn’t there?”
“Freelady, he doesn’t like what he’s had to do. I can’t say I like it much either, but we didn’t see any other way. Now do as he says and go to sleep. I reckon I’d better lie down a couple of hours myself.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE PRICE OF LOOT
“Time, Colonel.”
“Uh.” MacKinnie struggled to wakefulness.
“Hour before dawn,” Stark said. “Here.” He gave MacKinnie a steaming cup of tea.
Nathan drank gratefully. “Thanks.” He regretted again that there was neither coffee nor chickeest on Makassar. It might have been worse, he reflected. At least there was tea.
The night was dark. Both moons had set, and low clouds obscured most of the stars. The camp was invisible, but MacKinnie heard the men quietly coming awake. They spoke in whispers, with occasional louder curses and orders for silence breaking the low hiss of conversation. Nathan pulled on his boots and went to the cook area. His officers and noncoms were already gathering there.
He spoke to them in low tones. “I’m concerned about Father Sumbavu’s group,” he said. “We’ll take First and Second battalions and the knights out to cover them. The rest will stay here to guard the camp, with MacLean in charge. Be ready to march in ten minutes.”
“ Is it wise to divide the force?” MacLean asked.
“Wise or not, I’m doing it,” MacKinnie snapped. “I’m not accustomed to discussing my orders, Mister MacLean.”
“Sir,” MacLean answered.
“All right, move,” Stark said. He waited until the others had left. “Pretty good troops,” he said. “Not much protest at all. ’Course winning a battle yesterday didn’t hurt. Does wonders for discipline.”
When the troops were assembled, MacKinnie sent half the spearmen to the walls. The other half, with the knights, were marched out the camp gate. Once outside they turned due east, a right angle to the road to the city. There were mutters from the ranks, but no one questioned him.
When they were a kilometer from the camp MacKinnie turned the detachment toward the city, forming them into two columns of four with the cavalry inside. They marched in silence without drums, and Stark moved up and down the line to see that each man kept his equipment from rattling.
The sky turned gray, then crimson. When it was light enough to see men fifty meters away, Hal Stark caught up to MacKinnie at the head of the column. “They move pretty fast without wagons and junk,” Stark said. “Ought to be able to keep up this pace all morning.”
“We’ll need to,” MacKinnie said. He found it difficult to judge the capabilities of the native troops, and he couldn’t use his own abilities as a guide; months on Makassar had softened them, but the Samualites were generally stronger than the natives, and nearly all tasks seemed easier, exactly as Midshipman Landry had predicted.
The sun was nearly up when Stark sent for Mac
Kinnie. When Nathan joined him at the point, Stark showed him deep tracks left by Sumbavu’s baggage carts. “Hard to tell how far they are ahead of us,” Stark said. “No more’n an hour, I’d say.”
“Loaded as they were, they can’t be too far,” MacKinnie said. “Okay, I want flankers out to both sides. They’ll slow us down, but this is good ambush terrain. And let’s make time.
They swung on in silence, now and again changing positions to send fresh men to lead the escorting flankers. It was hard work to break trail in the waist-high grass-like vegetation. The low hills of the plain closed around them, and MacKinnie rushed forward each time they topped a rise. Then, as they approached one low hill, they heard shouts from the other side. When they drew closer, the sounds resolved into the din of a battle.
“Deploy the troops,” MacKinnie said softly. “Columns of fours to each side.”
The parallel columns split apart, angling out to form two lines, then continued their advance up the hill in silence. The men readied their weapons and helped each other sling their shields properly.
“Draw swords,” MacKinnie ordered. “Double time.”
They trotted up the final ten meters to the top of the rise. The sounds of battle grew louder. Then they could see the low valley beyond.
A thousand barbarians had swarmed over Sumbavu’s column and destroyed it. There were so few survivors that at first MacKinnie saw none at all, but a few Temple swordsmen were huddled in knots of ten or twenty around the makeshift protection of the baggage carts. The maris swept toward them firing arrows and leaping on them with their swords. Even as MacKinnie and Stark watched, another tiny group of scarlet livery vanished beneath a wave of plainsmen.
“Make your charge straight through them,” MacKinnie told Vanjynk. “Cut through and go past, then wheel, dress ranks, and charge home again. Don’t stop to play with them, stay together as you’ve been taught. Now go.”
Brett and Vanjynk waved the knights forward. The heavily armored horsemen gathered momentum as they rode down the gentle hill, changed from trot to canter, building speed as they rode toward the enemy.
As soon as the knights were in motion the infantry shield wall began its advance. Drums sounded quickstep, then double time as fuglemen shouted frantic orders to dress ranks and keep in line. The wall moved forward.
The maris saw the wave of horsemen plunging toward them and leaped for their mounts, scattering the loot they had been so anxious to gain, but it was too late. The lances came down, and now that they had been seen, MacKinnie waved to the trumpeters. The notes carried easily over the dewy plains as the knights charged home. Lances shattered, swords were torn from scabbards as the knights shouted in triumph. A few remained to fight, wheeling about until they were pulled from their saddled by the lassos of the maris, or their mounts were shot from beneath them. The rest galloped past, riding the enemy down, thundering down the entire line of barbarians before wheeling at the top of the next rise.
The horsemen had broken the enemy when the shieldsmen arrived. Once again the wings of the shield line closed inward, trapping the enemy between ranks, while the knights charged home again, throwing back into the trap any of the barbarians who had attempted to escape, the momentum of their charge crushing all resistance. The plainsmen caught between the lines had no chance. They could impale themselves on the spears of the shield wall, or wait to be trampled by the knights. This time the slaughter was done quickly, for no one attempted to attack the infantry from behind. The plainsmen who escaped were glad of their lives.
They found Sumbavu at the head of the column, a group of swordsmen dead around his body. He clutched a sword with one hand and a crucifix with the other, and his eyes stared at the heavens. There were no more than fifty survivors in his entire command.
MacKinnie grimly formed his troops into columns and marched back to his camp, the carts rattling over the rutted plains, the groans of the wounded sounding over the creak of their wheels.
* * *
MacKinnie rested his men through the next day. In the late afternoon, a small party of plainsmen approached, wheeled outside arrow-shot, and waved feathered lances above their heads.
“He wants to talk to you,” Brett said. “It doesn’t happen very often with city people, but they do have ways of ending wars between clans. He’s treating you as the chief of a very powerful clan. The men behind him are family heads.”
“How do I meet him?” MacKinnie asked.
“Go outside the gate with a group of retainers. I doubt if he’ll trust you not to shoot him if he gets in close range. It’s what always happens when they deal with city people.”
“Can you talk to him? Do you speak their language?”
“You know I do, star man, and you know why. I’ll come with you if you like.”
MacKinnie took Brett and young Todd, leaving Stark and MacLean in command. Longway puffed after them, insisting, and MacKinnie invited him along. They walked out from the camp until they were near the extreme range of a crossbow, then halted, still barely within covering fire if it were needed.
Three figures detached themselves from the group, dismounted, and strode purposefully toward MacKinnie. A few feet away they grounded their lances and spread their arms wide. One spoke swiftly in a musical language MacKinnie had never heard.
“He says he comes to speak,” Brett said. “He says you fight like a great chief. He says never before have the robed fools fought so well.”
“Tell him he has fought well and we admire the courage of his men.”
Brett translated. Before the mari chief could answer, MacKinnie said, “Now tell him I am a great prince from the south, and that I have come in a ship. Tell him a thousand more ships full of men like mine are coming, with many horses, and we will cover the plains. Tell him his brave people will kill many of us, but more will come, and soon there will be many dead on these fields.”
“It is customary to exchange more compliments.”
“Give him a few. Tell him how brave his men are, and how well they fought. Then tell him what I said.”
Brett spoke at length, waited for a reply, and said, “He says he is honored to meet a great prince from the south. He says he knew you could not be from the city. He asks how you will catch him.”
“Say that we will come to his home in midwinter. We will burn his food and kill his beasts. But we do not wish to do this, for many of my strong men will die, and many of his brave warriors, and all for nothing.”
“That ought to impress him,” Brett said. He chattered to the plainsman.
This time there was a long pause, then a longer reply from the mari.
Brett listened carefully. “You’ve impressed him,” the singer said. “He’s afraid of that walking wall of yours. He can imagine your troops pounding along in the snow, and it bothers him. They don’t like to fight in the winter, and he doesn’t think you would like it much either. He wants to know why you would go to so much trouble.”
“Say I’m a madman,” MacKinnie said. “Or will that work?”
“It might. They’re familiar with fanatics.”
“Good. Then I’m a fanatic dedicated to saving the Temple.”
Brett spoke again, listened, and said “He’s about ready to believe anything about you. He asks you to speak again. That means he hasn’t any reply.”
“Tell him any way you want to,” MacKinnie answered, “but here are my terms. They can have two days to get out of here. They burn nothing else, but they may carry away whatever they can. At the end of that time, we’ll kill every one of them we find. And if they make any more hostile moves after today, we’ll follow him to the end of the continent and burn all his villages and kill all his livestock. Make sure he knows that’s not an idle threat.”
“He’s not responsible for all of the maris,” Brett said.
“Just his own clan. He can’t promise for the rest.”
“Is this the leader of the biggest group?”
“One of the largest cla
ns, yes.”
“Then he’ll have to figure out how to drive the others out. He ought to be able to do it, but anyway that’s his problem, not mine. Tell him that.”
Brett looked pale for a moment. He seemed about to say something to MacKinnie, but Nathan’s look stopped him. He turned to the mari chief and spoke at length.
The sinewy chief answered, then another of the attendants shouted. Brett shouted back and their voices rose angrily before the chief spoke again more calmly. Finally Brett turned back to Nathan. “He’ll try. Some of the others have already left. He’ll get the rest to go along. They wanted more time, but I told them you really were a madman, that you’d taken an oath never to end the war if it didn’t end now. They’re still arguing about it, but it’s obvious they’re afraid of your army. I think they’ll go.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE HOLY RELICS
They entered the city in triumph. Although MacKinnie sent no word ahead, the wagons loaded with grain told enough; by the time the army reached the city gates, thousands had turned out to line the streets. Hundreds more spilled outside the gates and ran emotionally to greet the soldiers. The sound of their cheering was deafening.
It took nearly an hour to march up the winding streets to the Temple’s huge courtyard. MacKinnie sent a group ahead to keep the courtyard clear of civilians, and eventually brought the troops and commissary wagons inside. “There’ll be celebration enough tonight,” he told his officers. “For the moment let’s get the men fed and give them some rest.”
“We have won a great victory,” one of the knights protested. “Now we enjoy the rewards …”
“Certainly,” MacKinnie said. “The knights are excused. But we can’t totally disperse the army. The maris seem to be leaving, true enough, but we’ll need to be able to back up my threats if any of them change their minds. There’ll be plenty of revelry right here. I’ve sent for a whole warehouse of wine. One of you go invite all the Temple soldiers who had to stay behind. They were willing to go, and they ought to share in the fun.”
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