"It's up to you."
With that he picked up his pack and started up the stairs at a lope.
Herzer watched the old man trotting up the stairs and shook his head. He looked around at the small group on the top of the hill, wondering who would be the first to struggle to their feet. As it happened, Deann was already there. She just kneeled down to get her arms in the straps and then, still retching, staggered towards the steps.
"Crap," he muttered, pushing himself up. He got the rucksack up, somehow, and followed her.
Around the turn of the first bend she was bent over, dry-heaving, but still managing to put one foot in front of the other.
"Come on," he said, taking her elbow.
"Leave me alone," she muttered between retches. "I can make it."
"If you're stupid enough to keep going, I'm stupid enough to help," he replied, hooking an arm under her rucksack.
Weaving back and forth, they both staggered upwards towards the summit and their future.
* * *
Edmund chuckled as Gunny collapsed in the chair across from him. "You look like hell, Miles."
It was early evening and Edmund wondered how much longer he was going to be stuck behind the desk today. The supply situation had improved somewhat, between the influx from the roundup and a few caravans from nearby towns. But the demand had increased from the Resan refugees and a steady trickle of others. Getting farms into production was a top priority, but defending them, given the reputed size of the Resan raiders, was very close to the same. And spies had reported that Rowana was definitely getting some sort of support from the New Destiny Alliance. Which meant that sooner or later the two towns were going to come to blows.
"Thank you so much," Gunny growled, leaning back with a sigh. "I'm getting too old for this shit. Running up hills is a young man's game."
"Don't tell me you took the Hill?" Edmund said, startled. "I gave that up fifteen years ago; there's only so much medical science can do without a complete rebuild!"
"Well, I had to prove to them that I was tougher than they were," Gunny said. "I just dread having to do this with every class!"
"How'd it go?"
"Not bad, we're going to have sixty or seventy in the first group. The team I followed had young Herzer in it. I wanted to see if you were right."
"Was I?" Edmund asked, reaching into a drawer. "You look like you could use a belt."
"I never turn down free hooch." Gunny chuckled. "And, yeah, you were right; he can hang. He ended up dragging one of his friends all the way to the top. I think she would have made it on her own so I didn't jump his ass. But while he didn't exactly carry her, he was definitely a support. He'll do."
"He's acting like the devil is on his tail all the time," Edmund commented, pouring out two glasses. "There's more to whatever went on with him and Daneh than she'll tell me. But watch him; he's liable to do something stupid and heroic. We need all the trained troops we can get; losing that one to his own stupidity would. annoy me."
"Will do," Gunny said, downing the bourbon. "Not bad."
"I laid it down years ago," Edmund replied, taking a gulp himself. "How are the rest of the recruits?"
"They made it to the top of the hill which means they really want to be here. We'll just have to see how they train up." He paused and frowned. "I sometimes find it difficult to remember that we were once as foolish as these young folks."
"Yep," Edmund admitted. "And the reality of it is that you have to have people as foolish as this because we're no longer dumb enough to do what has to be done."
"The scary part is that they look up to us," Gunny said, chewing on his stogie. "We're like Gods to them. Some of them know, intellectually, that we're just as human as they are. And a few can even figure out that once upon a time we were Just Like Them. The better of them, sure. But not even like the best."
"Yuh," Talbot grunted. "It seems like the best of our old companions didn't make it this far."
"And when we were like them, somebody that we looked up to kicked our ass into line. We are born in imperfection, Edmund."
"We are that," Edmund grimaced. "And no matter how hard I have tried, I think we're going for the simplicity of imperfection."
"Clarify?" Gunny said. "You're not talking about the training program, are you?"
"No," Edmund sighed. "The Constitution of the United Free States has been drafted. It's got provisions for both aristocracy and de facto feudalism included. No matter what I did."
"Does it directly affect us?" Gunny said.
"Only in the aristocracy provisions," Talbot snarled. "I managed to include a provision that local governments could declare themselves 'serfdom free' within their local charters. We're chartered in Overjay, a geographical area with Washan, Warnan and a few others, including Rowana, which is not a member."
"What about military forces?" Gunny asked, cutting to the part that was important to him.
"Well, I got an amendment that full voters have to show capability to use arms, but the feudal states got a provision that 'secondary citizens' are to be unarmed and they count towards their voters even if they can't vote. Local citizenry raises its own weaponry and provides for its own defense. Professional military forces swear oath to the United Free States. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to get the Academy listed as a part of the professional military force."
"What about the legions?" Gunny asked. "Is that going to be the main force? Or are we going to have to take whatever comes to a muster?"
"Well, the question is, who is going to be in charge?" Edmund replied with a chuckle. "The secret here is to have the best plan at the beginning and get the forces formed around yours. We'll have more than legions in the long term, but hopefully that will be the core force. On the other hand, the Kents have gone almost entirely towards cavalry. If we can get them to join the UFS, and they're balking badly, it would be stupid to put them on foot. On the other other hand, most of the city states are concentrating on infantry. And who's got the best infantry?"
"We do," Rutherford said, assuredly.
"That's right."
"So," Gunny said, changing the subject. "How's Daneh?"
"Getting weird on me."
* * *
When Edmund got home, his curtains had been replaced.
Indeed, on walking into his front room, he wasn't sure he was in the right house. The furniture had been rearranged, two of his favorite tapestries were gone and the big table that he was wont to pile stuff on until he figured out what to do with it had disappeared.
Daneh was in the middle of the room, on her hands and knees, measuring the floor with a piece of string.
"What are you doing?" he asked, carefully.
"Measuring for carpets," Daneh replied, making a note.
"I like tile," Edmund said.
"I know you do," Daneh replied, getting up off her knees with some effort. She had started to show lately and it was affecting her balance. "But, do you have any idea how uncomfortable tile is when your ankles are swelling and your feet feel like your arches are falling?"
"You're not that far along, yet," he temporized.
"No," she smiled. "That's why I'm measuring for carpets now."
"Is this a pregnant thing?" he asked, carefully. She had had a tendency to snap his head off lately if he asked searching questions about her "delicate condition."
"I don't know," she replied cheerfully. "But whether it is or not, you're getting carpet."
"And where is it coming from?"
"I met this nice girl named Shilan who is one of the apprentice weavers. And since the sheep dropped and we've got a bit of an excess of wool at the moment, and since the new powered mill is experimenting with different weaves, she thought she could get me some piled wool carpet. That's where the curtains came from, too."
"And my tapestries?" he asked cautiously.
"They're out in your workshop," she answered. "What do you want for supper?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After a hearty dinner the recruits spent the night in bunkhouses that had been cleared out for them and were woken before dawn by one of the sergeants walking through, banging on a metal shield.
"Up and at 'em, rise and shine, it's another beautiful day in the legions," the sergeant said. "Ten minutes for the jakes then fall out in front of the barracks."
Herzer lined up for the latrines-there were only two seats available for the whole group-then washed sketchily in a rain barrel. Finally he joined the mob in front of the bunkhouse.
"We're not going to try to move you around in formations, yet," the sergeant said after doing a headcount, "because you'd just be falling over your own feet. So if you'd just follow me in your customary cluster fisk and try not to fall too far behind, we'll go get you in-processed.
The gaggle followed him to a series of buildings near the base of the western hills. These were more substantial than most of the "temporary" buildings that had been thrown up to handle the refugee influx and Herzer suspected they had supported the annual Faire. They gathered outside the first and then went in one by one.
The room inside had been separated into two by a series of rough tables. On one side were a few civilians and on the other were piles of rough cloth and more than twenty women hastily sewing uniforms from it.
"My, you're a big one," the man who seemed to be in charge said. "Katie, I'm going to need an XXL for this one," the man called, pulling a string from around his neck. "What's your inseam, big-boy?"
"I have no idea," Herzer replied. "What's an inseam?"
"The length of the inside of your thigh," the man replied, squatting down and measuring it. He chuckled at Herzer's discomfort. "That's exactly why I told the silly gunnery sergeant you weren't to strip until after this bit! I need a forty-four inseam, Katie!"
"He'll have to do with a forty-six or so," the woman behind the counter said, handing over some gray clothing, a cloth bag and some sundry cloth strips.
"Take this and change behind that curtain," the man said, turning to the next recruit in line. "Put your civilian clothes in the bag. Keep your shoes on."
"What about the rest?" Herzer asked.
"Just hold onto it and go to the next room."
Herzer changed into the baggy clothes, noting as he did that there were two more sets just as badly made, and hitched the pants up as far as he could with his belt. After that, carrying his "civilian" clothes, money pouch and the other uniforms, he went into the next room.
"Put your old clothes and anything else you were carrying except money or valuables into the bag," a man said abruptly. "Didn't you listen?"
Herzer quickly complied and held the bag up. "What now?" The room had a large number of similar bags piled on one side, the table the officious man was at, a burning candle and a stack of badly constructed wooden chests. And that was it.
The man took out leather ties and a candle. "Tie this around it, seal the ties with the wax, put your fingerprint in the wax. When you're done with training it will be returned. Put your uniforms in the footlocker and carry it with you."
Herzer did as he was told. Then the man took the bag and handed him one of the chests. "Next room."
"Ah, very nice boots," the man in the next room said, kneeling to examine Herzer's footwear. "You probably would be better off keeping them but orders are orders. Take them off and let me measure your feet."
Herzer sat in a chair and looked around as he took them off. There were several recruits in the room being fitted for boots but he didn't see any boots in sight.
"Uhm, where are the boots?" he asked as the man pulled out string and started taking measurements.
"They'll have to be made, won't they?" the man chuckled. "It's not as if we have warehouses full. Big feet; you're going to use up most of a cow, boy."
"Sorry."
"Not a problem."
Herzer continued through room after room, occasionally moving to different buildings and being outfitted or, more often, measured. Helmet, cloak, blankets, underclothes and cloths to wrap to replace socks. They did have a helmet his size, although it wasn't fitted on the inside and rolled around on his head until he removed it and stowed it in the footlocker. The locker was getting heavy by the time he completed the circuit and emerged back into the sunlight. Some of the rest of the recruits he had spent the night with were waiting, most of them sitting on their footlockers, as well as the sergeant who had moved the "gaggle" over.
"What now, sir?" Herzer asked.
"We wait for the rest, of course."
Herzer took a seat and looked at the group that was there. He hadn't had much time to get to know them the night before and he wondered if they were all going to be in his training unit.
"Hi," he said to the person nearest him. "Herzer Herrick. Are you all line infantry?"
"Nope," the man said with a grin. "Lucky me, I passed the bow course."
"Oh," Herzer said, looking him over. The man wasn't nearly as heavily muscled as Herzer. "You did the fifty course? Congratulations."
"Oh, hell no," the man said with another grin. "Nobody passed that one, so they dropped it to thirty. I made that, no sweat."
"Oh."
"Well, I heard a couple of people passed it, but I'd have to see it to believe it. I mean, thirty nearly killed me. They told us they don't have many bows anyway, so the ones who did really well will be the archers at the beginning and the rest will be support."
"Ah."
"Didn't you pass? I mean, you're pretty big."
"He passed," Deann said, setting down her footlocker. "He passed the fifty course. Then he asked if he could go to line infantry."
"You're joking!" the man said, looking at Herzer askance. "What in the hell did you do that for?"
"I don't want to be stuck as an archer," Herzer replied with a shrug.
"He's a fisking lunatic," Deann added.
"And for our sins we followed him over," Cruz said from behind Herzer.
"Cruz!" Herzer said, getting to his feet to pump the young man's hand. "Where'd you come from?"
"The same place Deann did. After looking over what we were being offered I figured being a soldier had to be better! I mean, if I never see another hide or crosscut saw I'll be too happy. Even if it means being stuck with you guys!"
"You're all nuts! You guys are nothing but sword fodder; the archers are the elite."
"Yeah?" Herzer challenged. "Infantry is about movement. When you can do the Hill, I'll be impressed."
"Archers are going to have to keep up with us," Deann said smugly. "I think they'll face the Hill soon enough."
"On your feet you." The sergeant looked around at the group as the last recruit joined them. He started to say more then shook his head. "Never mind. It's not even worth cussing." He started to call off a list of names, breaking them out into four groups. As he did, other sergeants drifted into the area.
Herzer's group was the smallest, with the archers being the most numerous, and two groups of women, presumably archer females and "line" females.
"I'm Drill Corporal Wilson," one of the NCO's said, coming over to Herzer's group. "I'll take you to meet your makers."
"Our what?" one of Herzer's group asked.
"You'll see," the corporal said with a chuckle.
He led the group, still carrying their footlockers, out of the area and along the base of the hills to a clearing where three figures in armor waited.
"WHAT THE FISK ARE YOU DOING JUST AMBLING ALONG LIKE A BUNCH OF GRANNIES?!" one of the figures shouted. "MOVE IT! MOVE IT! MOVE IT! YOU, THE BIG ONE, OVER HERE!"
Herzer looked to where he was pointing and trotted over to the spot as fast as he could carrying the box of materials.
"Footlocker on the ground behind you," the man said. He was nearly as tall as Herzer and just about as wide, with the articulated armor and helmet making him appear even larger. He pointed to the spot then chivvied the group with Herzer into a semicircle.
"I am Triari Sergeant Jeffcoat,"
the man said, walking along the line and looking at each of the recruits. "Triari is my rank, not my name. It is my sad duty to inform you that for the next couple of months I'm going to be your drill sergeant. The reason that it is my sad duty is that you are not going to like it! There are many things that I could be doing with my time other than training a group of such useless fisks as you yardbirds. But this is what I've been ordered to do and I will damned well do it, even if it kills you. Note, not if it kills me but if it kills you! This is Decurion Jones and Sergeant Paddy," he continued, pointing to the two persons in armor. "Along with Drill Corporal Wilson, they will be helping me in this unenviable task." He paused as one of the group raised his hand.
John Ringo - Council Wars 01 - There Will Be Dragons Page 48