by John F. Carr
Kalvan quickly saw the infantry didn't need help. The halberdiers of the King's Lifeguard were moving out into the open, swinging their axe-heads enthusiastically. This kept the ranks of Hostigi arquebusiers and musketeers from shooting, but not the rifle-armed marksmen in each company. They dropped back and aimed fire on any Harphaxi who wasn't being engaged by a halberdier.
Meanwhile, the hammering of the Harphaxi continued, with the artillery now firing on the flank and the musketeers to their front. Kalvan saw one splendidly armored man-at-arms loose an arm to case shot, have a leg crushed under his horse, crawl out to be hit in the face by a musket ball and blinded, and be finished off by a halberd blow that split both his helm and his head wide open.
Kalvan thought of five generations of Hapsburg and Burgundian knights dying miserably under the pikes and halberds of the Swiss; he hoped it wouldn't take the heavy cavalry that long to wise up here-and-now—even if their stupidity might make his job easier. He didn't want to watch too many more battles like this one.
The Royal Lancers had lost too many captains to allow them to organize for another charge, but their honor would not let them retreat. The Royal Pistoleers and most of the mercenary cavalry weren't so badly hit, although too far out of effective range to do much harm with their pistols and musketoons. Kalvan saw several of their captains organizing a charge, using the Lancers as a shield to cover their movement. He ordered the First Royal Horseguard to mount up.
The cannons were firing independently now. Kalvan hoped their fireseed was holding out.
As the Pistoleers and the mercenaries began to work their way forward, they began to add surviving Lancers to their strength. They were moving slowly; the carnage around them and the surviving Lancers absorbed most of the Hostigi firepower. Kalvan saw Hestophes signaling frantically to the trumpeters to sound the recall so they could pull the maddened halberdiers out of the line of fire.
The King's Lifeguards closest to the trumpeters responded first and quickly withdrew. Any of the other halberdiers couldn't or didn't want to hear and died in the first salvo. For once the Harphaxi got off lightly. Kalvan saw now that they were pressing home their charge at his center. Hestophes hadn't been sitting on his hands; the pikemen stood in ranks six deep, with the musketeers and arquebusiers in the rear. Hestophes guns fired a last ragged salvo; the Harphaxi line shuddered briefly, then crashed into the Hostigi pikes.
The pike line wavered, buckled for a moment at the center, then stiffened as the rear ranks reformed. The musketeers ran up and down the files, but their effect was diminished by their reduced fire. The artillery didn't dare fire for fear of hitting friend as well as foe. A few halberdiers were fighting in the front ranks, but too many had been killed during the withdrawal. Only the King's Second Lifeguards had any great numbers of halberdiers left but they were pinned down on the right, keeping the Harphaxi from taking Hestophes' six-pounders and turning them on the Hostigi.
The entire Hostigi center was being pushed into a giant crescent as the men in the middle slowly gave way before the point-blank fire of the Royal Pistoleers. Some of the musketeers were picking up fallen pikes or using swords like Spanish sword and buckler men, but not nearly as successfully. It said a lot for the esprit de corps and Hestophes' ability as a commander, but Kalvan could see they weren't going to contain the Harphaxi press for long.
Kalvan wished fervently that Count Phrames or somebody would come charging through the trees like the US Cavalry, but he knew it wasn't in the cards. It was up to him with his little cavalry force to turn the battle or face the first major defeat of the day. He didn't need to remind himself how little Hos-Hostigos could afford that.
Kalvan now commanded about two hundred of the Royal Horseguards as well as the First Dragoons with nearly their full strength of two-hundred mounted pikemen and two hundred mounted musketeers and the surviving Ulthori heavy horse. He divided the dragoons, sending the pikemen behind the Hostigi lines to reinforce the beleaguered center, leaving two-thirds of the musketeers to remain behind to hold the present position. The sixty best riders among the musketeers were about to become temporary light cavalry. Kalvan convinced the Horseguards to give up their extra pistols by giving the musketeer captain the two from his boot tops.
In the few minutes it took to give the orders and mount up, the Hostigi center had begun to look like a classic double-envelopment. It would have been one, too, if the pike line hadn't been in so much danger of breaking. With reinforcements in the right places and Kalvan's small cavalry force to close the noose, they just might pull it off.
If they'd didn't—well, he hoped that Harmakros and Phrames had learned their lessons well. Rylla's and his unborn child's life depended upon it. For his big roll of the dice, Kalvan decided to ignore Nicomoth's protests and lead the charge himself. The sudden appearance of Great King Kalvan, or the "Daemon Kalvan" as the Styphoni were calling him, just might give the Hostigi a needed psychological edge. Dralm only knew, they needed any and every kind of edge they could get now!
He raised a saber in one hand and a rifled pistol in the other.
"Down Styphon!'
Thunderous shouts of "Kalvan!" and "Hostigos!" rose from behind him and then the even more thunderous sound of hundreds of horses on the move. The Hostigi and their horses were comparatively fresh; they hit the Harphaxi rear like a blacksmith's hammer striking soft steel. The Harphaxi line wavered and buckled as horse-pinned troopers tried to turn their mounts. For a moment, Kalvan's worst fear was that the Hostigi cavalry might push the Harphaxi right through the weakening pike line. Then he saw the Harphaxi rear going from tightly packed to crushed. The pikes were holding; the jaws of double-envelopment were closing.
Two or three companies of Harphaxi mercenaries managed to escape before the jaws snapped shut. "Dralm blast-it!" Kalvan cried. He'd wanted to trap hem all.
Suddenly he was in the thick of it: the first four men Kalvan killed didn't even realize he was behind them; others knew but had no room to fight, nor any place to run. It was like one of the Old West buffalo hunts, with the buffalo hunters circling the herd and slaughtering them with Sharps' rifles, except the Harphaxi stayed in their saddles and kept fighting until they were shot off their mounts, falling and jerking to join the writhing and frozen bodies on the bloody churned ground—which to Kalvan looked like the dumping ground of every butcher shop and morgue in the Northern Kingdoms!
At some point, Hestophes ordered the surviving halberdiers of the King's Lifeguard into the press. Those mercenaries who could surrendered, but many couldn't make themselves heard through the screams of dying men and horses. What remained of the Lancers and Pistoleers refused to surrender; some cut down any mercenary within reach who dared take Galzar's Oath; since they wouldn't surrender and couldn't attack, they did the only thing they could do—they died in droves.
Hestophes rode up to Kalvan as the battle was grinding down to a close. He was no longer grinning, in fact, his face looked as if a grin would crack it. He shook his head slowly. "I feel like a boy drowning kittens." Then he added, "We do have a few prisoners. Two of them said they saw Prince Philesteus go down after a halberd struck his head and split his skull."
"We'll want to make a search for his body," Kalvan said. He was thinking of Charles the Bold of Burgundy, who died in a similar fashion from a Swiss halberd at the Battle of Nancy. Kalvan didn't want a generation of pretenders, as had happened in Burgundy, claiming to be the 'dead' Prince and heir to the Iron Throne of Hos-Harphax, then raising armies, or at the least making trouble.
"If we find his body, I want it sent back to King Kaiphranos with all due honor."
No need to remind a veteran like Hestophes that Prince Philesteus might be a little hard to recognize after being hacked down and trampled. At least the Prince had died an 'honorable' death; he certainly wouldn't have wanted to live to mull over what an idiot he'd been.
III
Except for the search party, Kalvan and Hestophes kept their men in formatio
n. This provoked some grumbling, since even the Hostigi veterans were tempted by the awe-inspiring amount of loot the dead Lancers and Pistoleers represented—to say nothing of possible ransoms for the wounded and captive noblemen. The grumbling ceased when a cloud of dust from the north signaled the approach of another large mounted force. Everyone was tired and thirsty, and the musketeers were down to about five rounds apiece. So if this was a fresh enemy force...
It turned to be Prince Armanes with his Nyklosi heavy cavalry and a thousand mercenary horse. Phrames was with him; he'd had his horse shot out from under him early in the counterattack and sprained a wrist as well, making it hard for him to catch another one.
Phrames' arrival also supplied the problem of what to do with Prince Armanes. The Prince had advanced to join Kalvan without waiting for orders from Harmakros, or even bothering to find out if Harmakros needed his help more than Kalvan. Apparently, Armanes thought that once Hestophes no longer needed his rear protected and Harmakros had attacked, he could go the most "honorable" part of the battlefield...under the eye of his Great King.
What Kalvan had here was a problem not of tactics but of diplomacy. It was a problem that he would have rather have put off until the shooting stopped. But there was no way to do that—and no easy solution, either. Sending Prince Armanes back in disgrace without his cavalry would be an impossible insult. Sending his cavalry with him would simply keep them marching for another hour, wearing out their horses without meeting an enemy. Keeping them here would leave Harmakros with no one guarding his back except for the reserves, which didn't have a first class commander. However, Kalvan now had one to spare.
"Count Phrames, you will ride back north and take command of the reserves, under Harmakros. He will be facing the Zarthani Knights before long, if he isn't already, so keep your men together and take them all."
"Except for enough to guard the baggage?"
"Of course." Kalvan said. Great Dralm, I must be getting tired to forget that! Sarrask of Sask had never stopped complaining about the looting of his baggage by mercenary company at the Battle of Fyk.
"Spare mercenaries, but take their Oath to Galzar. Regular Harphaxi troops are to be guarded closely. The Harphaxi levies—I believe the best thing to do is to strip them of arms and armor and send them home."
Phrames grimaced as if he smelled something bad. "That will be turning them loose on their own people, Sire."
"Not without weapons, it won't be. Besides, better them looting Harphaxi farms than eating our rations." He doubted that many would ever see their homes again; those that weren't shot by farmers would either die of starvation or at the hands of bandits and thieves. There would be little peace in Hos-Harphax this fall.
"Very true, Your Majesty."
Phrames turned away; Kalvan almost called him back to remind him to leave some men holding the West Gap to maintain communication between the two now widely separated wings of the Army of the Harph. Then he sighed and tried to spit in an unsuccessful effort to get the dust out of his mouth. A quick pull from his jack of wine helped more. If Harmakros and Phrames didn't know enough by now to do that without being ordered, then he was completely wrong about both of them.
Right now, what he wanted to do was sit down in some shade in soft grass and drink water until he could hear it slosh inside. He looked past the acres of Harphaxi corpses to the hillside beyond. The grass looked nice and green, and there were trees around an abandoned farmhouse that would surely have a well...
EIGHTEEN
I
"The ford is picketed, Captain."
"Styphoni?"
"None that I can see on either bank, sir. In fact, there's nobody at all on the far bank; on our side there's just a half company of Harphax City Militia."
Captain Phidestros felt he had cause to sigh with relief. With nothing but fifty or so apprentices and stableboys to bar the passage of the Iron Company and no sign of rain, the way across the Harph was as sure as a captain could hope.
Phidestros spurred Snowdrift down the road toward the riverbank, Geblon and his six guards falling in behind. He made no effort at silence or concealment; against these bunglers either would be likely to get him taken for an enemy. A clash of arms would do the Iron Company little damage, but might result in the wholesale slaughter of the Militia, and that might prove embarrassing when he returned to Harphax City. Besides, there was little sport in spearing fish in a barrel.
"Ho! Who—who is it?" came from the cluster of figures on the riverbank. Several of them were wearing surcoats with the Harphax City coat of arms, a black portcullis on a yellow field, but most of them were dressed in worn leather jacks or peasant's garb. They looked like a flimsy collection of scarecrows that'd have a hard time not being blown away by the first stiff breeze.
"The Iron Company of Captain Phidestros in the service of Great King Kaiphranos. Let us pass."
This exchange took Phidestros over the best part of the remaining distance to the riverbank, where two men stepped out into the road. One carried an antique arquebus, the other worse a rusty back-and-breast and carried a drawn sword.
"I am Captain Habros of the Cordwainers Guild Arquebusiers. What is your business here?" He was looking beyond Phidestros as he spoke, at the head of the Iron Company now in sight on the road.
"To cross the Harph."
Habros took a deep breath. "I have orders to let no one pass without permission."
"Whose permission?" If Habros took too many deep breaths, Phidestros was going to demonstrate how meaningless permission was by shooting him dead where he stood. "Nobody is giving or withholding permission for anything. At least, I haven't heard that anybody who could is still alive and free."
It began to dawn on Phidestros that the Militia stationed here, far away from the fighting, might not have heard the full tale of the day's fighting and the utter destruction of the Harphaxi Army. So he told it briefly, without going into detail or venting his rage at the follies he'd seen, such as the advance through the Middle Gap and the mad charge of the Royal Lancers. He did not even mention that Prince Philesteus was known to be dead and Duke Aesthes, his tail tucked underneath like a cur, was riding flat-out back to Harphax City, merely saying that he had not been easy in his mind about the safety and location of either for some time.
By the time he had finished, Captain Habros was noticeably paler, even in the fading light. "I—we had not heard such..." He swallowed. "We had heard that the battle was not going well from some of the City Militia Bands retreating over the ford, about four candles ago. They said they'd gone far enough to see Styphon's Own Guard retreating or falling back before the False Hostigi, but no other friendly troops. We also heard tales of peasants being up in arms against us."
The "City Bands" must be part of the five thousand or so Harphaxi rearguard who'd turned around and started back toward the safety of the City without firing a shot, even in support of the Styphoni. They certainly wouldn't have seen enough of the battle to describe it clearly. Those Harphaxi who'd not only survived but also escaped from the north could tell the whole tale, but they'd be moving farther inland rather than toward the Harph where they risked being swept up by Hostigi cavalry.
As for the peasant uprising, there at least Phidestros could do these poor wretches a good turn. "We took two of those 'peasants' ourselves and questioned them—then hanged them. They're not even Harphaxi! They were Ulthori fishermen, little more than bandits, that King Kalvan sent downriver to make as much mischief as they could. Guard your horses and weapons, but don't fear the peasants."
At least, not until word of this day's disaster spreads. Even Great Kings have been overthrown by peasant uprisings after cock-ups like this.
"Thank you. But—how am I to let you pass, when my orders...? The Captain's voice trailed off as Phidestros drew his pistol and cocked it, along with his guard.
"By standing aside, and letting us do so."
Even a blind man could have counted the odds against the picket by l
istening to the stamping of horses and cocking of pistols all around the post.
"Pass, friend. May Galzar and Tranth be with you," Habros said with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, then waved his men away from the crossing with his sword. A dozen Iron Company troopers rode down to the bank and dismounted. Those not told off for horse-holders began uncoiling ropes from their saddlebags and tying them into a single long line to be stretched across the Harph as a guide.
Phidestros would have given a good deal to be one of the line-stretchers. Not only would it be a good example for the Company, it would give him the closest thing to a bath he could expect for a moon-quarter. However, his knee would not let him do heavy work in the chest-deep water of the swift-flowing Harph, and that was the end of it.
Thank Galzar, there was also an end in sight to the Iron Company's ordeal. By the time night was halfway through they would be on the west bank of the river, free to ride anywhere their horses would take them—and with no Hostigi following behind.
That had been Phidestros' only goal since they'd ridden away from the crossroads where the Royal Lancers had died almost to a man. His company had been among the mercenaries who had followed the Royal Pistoleers over the ruins of the Lancers in their futile attack against the Hostigi pike line. Kalvan's ruse had been perfect; the Hostigi line gave way until the Harphaxi were almost surrounded, then he drew the noose tight. If the Iron Company hadn't been to the left of Kalvan's charge, they would be feeding the carrion birds right now. Instead he'd seen what was about to happen and escaped with about two hundred of his men, but he'd still left thirty good men behind, and some of Lamochares' men had deserted.
He'd made up for all the losses and then some, with a whole new company and fifty-odd men who'd ridden in by twos and threes, all looking for a captain who would take them to safety and was not disposed to ask too many questions. He'd had them all give oaths to Galzar and added them to the Iron Company's Muster List. The few that refused to swear to the Iron Company were sent packing with the flat of his sword against their horse's flanks.