by John F. Carr
"By Galzar!" someone shouted.
The rest nodded. Currently under his colors, Phidestros had some twenty-eight thousand cavalry and infantry. When they'd left the Grand Host, they'd taken almost a quarter of its strength along with over half of the baggage train, most of whom had been happy to leave. Not even the most hardened camp follower saw much profit in wandering the wilderness in search of Kalvan and the Army of Hostigos.
"I suggest we follow one of King Kalvan's innovations. We muster out all those soldiers who would like to be farmers and shopkeepers. I'll give each man ten gold rakmars and twenty acres of farmland. Petty-captains will be given fifty ounces of gold and captains one hundred ounces of gold and a small fiefdom.
"You're talking about several hundred thousand ounces of gold, Captain General!" Captain Tyblon, the Iron Band's paymaster, objected. "That'll empty the Band's paychests."
Phidestros smiled. "I've got a promissory note from Grand Master Soton which will more than cover our expenses for the campaign. Furthermore, former Prince Phrames didn't have time to remove more than half his Treasury, so we have that to build upon."
"If it's still there!" one of the captains interjected.
"It's there," Phidestros said, with a wolfish grin. "After our victory at Ardros Field, I sent five hundred men, under Captain Cythros of the Blue Company, to secure Tarr-Beshta and govern the Princedom in my absence. Phrames was so eager to help his Great King that he left behind only a skeleton garrison; Cythros was able to take the old tarr in less than a quarter moon. He was lucky, too, in that most of the Hostigi loyalists were more interested in fleeing the Holy Investigation of Styphon than fighting their new overlord. Cythros' first act, after taking Tarr-Beshta, was to secure the treasury. He assured me that it contains more than fifty thousand ounces of gold and ten times that weight in silver ingots.
"Now, Geblon, approach my chair." Phidestros paused to stand up and remove his presentation sword from its scabbard. Geblon bowed and he touched the top of his head with the blade. "I now pronounce you before all the True Gods and your peers Duke of Sashta."
Geblon looked as if he'd taken a mace blow to the side of his head. Finally, he stammered, "Th-thank you, Your Highness."
"You can dispense with the formality for now, Geblon.
"I need a strong hand to deal with my new subjects. You know mercenaries and how to command them. I also need someone of impeccable loyalty and who has my absolute trust. You have proven all these qualities many times over."
"How many of the mercenaries do we want to muster out?" Kyblannos asked.
"About five thousand."
"I don't think that many of them want to be farmers-" Geblon said.
Phidestros laughed. "Oh, they will. You'll have to beat off the recruits with your sword!"
"What do you mean?"
"Give me a moment. I'll get back to it. As you all know, we 'inherited' most of the Grand Host's camp followers."
Captain Redyr hooted. "Most of those lazy buggers didn't see much future in fighting in the Trygath! We had to fight them off or we'd have inherited the entire lot. Must be four times our number, too."
"Exactly," Phidestros replied in a voice of steel. When he had everyone's complete attention, he continued, "I certainly don't see much future for them in Greater Beshta, truth tell. Is that agreed, Gentlemen?"
The chamber filled with laughter. At best, camp followers supplied drink, women and entertainment for the soldiers; at worst, they robbed them of their hard-earned coin and gave them cankers and diseases of the flesh.
"I do not want them robbing our men. Grand-Captain Ptolynnos, I want you to eliminate all the sharpers, profiteers, bone tossers, skullrakers, shell men and all the other chance players and gamblers and the like. Strip them of all their money and finery, and put them into the fields as serfs. We won't make them slaves, even if they deserve it, but instead will give them a hefty indenture to pay off."
"What for? You know they'll all ask."
"Enjoying our hospitality!"
They all laughed.
Phidestros continued, "We'll give them a choice. Either they work as serfs, or we will send them to Roxthar for Investigating. Tell them we have to pay a purse of gold for each man jack of them we don't send to Roxthar. This will give our soldiers someone to work their fields. Kyblannos, you're good at rune forming. Write up a phony parchment from Roxthar requesting all the gamblers, brothel owners, murderers, strongarms, muggers and other degenerates in the baggage train to be sent back to Hostigos Town. Tell them we'll sell them their freedom for five hundred gold rakmars or ten years hard labor. Otherwise, it's off to the Investigation."
"Some of them can pay," Geblon said.
"Good, the gold will go into the Iron Band paychests. The rest will hew and toil. Any who try to escape, bind them up and we'll ship them off to Roxthar as Hostigi sympathizers. Those that do pay, tell them to leave Greater Beshta as fast they can and never return. Tell them we'll keep a warrant for their arrest, if they do!"
"A good lesson to the others," one of the captains said.
"Now, as to the rest. Offer the honest sutlers and merchants and tinkers shops or stores. Most importantly, Geblon, I want you to round up all the gang leaders and their minions."
"What if they resist?"
"Shoot them like mad dogs. Go with pistols primed and cocked. When you've gathered them all up, hang the lot of them."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now that's settled. Now, for the women. Our men will need wives if they're to take up farming. Since there are few women in Sashta, we'll have to recruit some volunteers. Tell the whores that they're closing shop in Sashta-for good."
"Do you think they'll go for that?"
"I don't care whether they do or don't. Here's the deal: Tell the slatterns they have a moon quarter to find a soldier among those who are mustering out who will marry them."
"By the Wargod's Mace! We'll have so many men mustering out we won't have an army left!" Kyblannos cried.
"Then draw lots! I don't want more than five thousand planting their feet in Sashta. We're going to need soldiers in Beshta, as well."
"But there are more women in the train than there are in the entire army!"
"Exactly, the rest can form unions with the baggage train leavings…"
"Most will want to be with soldiers."
"That's the idea. The soldiers get first pick. Those that are left will go with anyone who wants them. Let them be the wives of serfs. If they don't like that, send them to Roxthar!"
"But what happens later?" Redyr asked. "Won't most of them just slip away the moment the Army's gone?"
Phidestros nodded. "Good point. However, I've got a solution. Kyblannos, have your armorers and blacksmiths work up a branding iron. Make it in the sign of a lightning bolt-my device. Brand the cheeks of all the trollops. And, while you're at it, brand my device on the foreheads of all the 'new' serfs-that'll keep them from running away. We'll offer a big purse throughout the Five Kingdoms for any man or women caught outside Sashta with the lightning bolt brand. That'll keep the women on the farms and the serfs in the fields."
Kyblannos shook his head. "Aye, you've thought this one out, Captain. I see what you mean about beating off the volunteers from the Army with a mace. But what about the pimps, madams, flesh peddlers and whoremasters? They might have some strong objections to your plan."
"I suspect they will. Round them all up before the announcement-and hang them all."
Geblon gasped. "We don't have enough trees!"
"We've got lots of tree stumps. Chop off their heads, then."
"We only have a handful of executioners, My Lord," offered one of the captains.
"Do we have many halberdiers?"
Geblon nodded.
"Then offer them five silver pieces for every head they remove."
"At that price, every other man jack in the Army will volunteer and find himself a halberd," Kyblannos said dryly.
"I expect so. I
'm tired of these parasites bleeding our men. It's time to make them useful. They can fertilize the fields of Shasta with their bones."
"What about Roxthar's informers?" one of the captains asked.
"I'm getting to that. Captain Lythrax, I want you to take as many men as you need and find all the Styphoni sympathizers in the baggage train."
"Sir, how will I know?"
"Most of the Styphoni agents will be circumcised. Any you find, give them an orchidectomy right then and there. Anyone found working with them will be treated likewise."
"But some of them maybe uncircumcised and escape!" Lythrax was almost too good at his work. Phidestros would have had him mustered out years ago, except for times like these when he needed a man hard enough to follow any order. "Exactly, Captain. I want a few to escape so that word reaches Roxthar that we will brook none of his Investigation nonsense. Let him be prepared to lose any of his minions that he sends into Greater Beshta. Believe me, once word of this policy reaches Hostigos Town and Balph, there won't be any Investigators willing to cross our border. This will also keep any traitors within Beshta quaking in their boots."
SIXTEEN
Rylla sat on her horse, staring in awe at the great walls of Rathon City that rose before her like a stone plateau. Kalvan had once described the City to her in detail, but it wasn't the same as seeing it in person. The stone walls were four lances thick at the base, three in the middle and two on top-wide enough to fit four men on horseback side by side. Rathon City dominated the surrounding countryside like a small mountain.
During her foray into Hos-Harphax to hunt down Prince Araxes of Phaxos, she'd encountered some remarkable fortifications, but nothing like this. On the other hand, Hos-Harphax was corrugated with mountains and most castles were hilltop tarrs. The area around Rathon City didn't have much in the way of commanding heights, so the Rathoni went for city walls, great bulwarks that had held back scores of barbarian hordes and rebellious armies.
As the last of the great bombards was levered off its oversized wagon bed, Rylla looked up at the sun to gauge the time, then turned to Captain-General Alkides, asking, "How long before we can fire the first volley?"
"My gunners should have the Fat Duchess in position and loaded in half a candle, Your Majesty."
"Good, because we only have about four candles of daylight left." She looked over the motley collection of guns, ranging from mobile eight-pounders to two-hundred pound bombards. Other than the two flying batteries Kalvan had held back for the Army of the Saltless Seas and the four- and six-pounders for the gunboats, these eighty odd guns and mortars were all the artillery remaining to the Army of Hos-Hostigos. Regardless, altogether they made an impressive demonstration, especially backed by more than fifteen thousand infantry and cavalry.
Right now, she thought, I wouldn't want to be in King Nestros' boots for all the gold in the Balph Treasury.
While Alkides was orchestrating his first volley, she motioned Captain-General Chartiphon and General Klestreus to her side. At her urging, Kalvan had relented and permitted Chartiphon to strap on his sword again; it had knocked years off his carriage and appearance. He appeared enthused for the first time since they had left Hostigos.
"Your Majesty?" Klestreus said, breathing harder than his horse, which was laboring under his hundred odd ingots of weight.
"What do your spies have to say about Rathon's defenses?" Since entering the Trygath, the Army had turned the area into a wasteland, burning those crops they could not harvest and blowing up farmhouses and towns with fireseed grenades, as Kalvan called them. As they'd moved through the Kingdom of Cyros, they had pushed Nestros' subjects before them, tens of thousands of refugees all fleeing for the safety of Rathon City's walls, leaving a smoldering deadland behind. It hadn't been difficult for Klestreus to plant several score of intelligencers amongst their midst.
Rylla could just imagine the fear and anxiety of the City's inhabitants, magnified by the stories of death and destruction told by the refugees and Klestreus' agents. She might have even felt sympathetic had they themselves not had the Grand Host of Styphon snapping at their heels, making its way through Nyklos at this very moment. Whatever had stopped the Host's advance was behind them now. Her only satisfaction was in knowing that the Styphoni were traveling through a Nyklosi wasteland where there was neither relief nor succor.
Once he'd caught his breath, the barrel-sized General began to provide her with an answer. "Our spies tell us that King Nestros has over twenty-five thousand troops within the City walls, mostly infantry. He left most of the Rathoni cavalry to harass our supply lines and attack our foragers, which as you know hasn't been successful."
Rylla nodded. Using decoys, Captain-General Hestophes, who was commanding the Army of Observation, had managed to capture one of three main cavalry divisions in an envelopment, killing hundreds and capturing ten times that number. This had caused the other commanders to back off from directly attacking the Hostigi. Since then, the Army of the Trygath had moved through the Kingdom of Rathon virtually unopposed.
"Inside the City, morale is bad. Many of the infantry remember fighting with the Hostigi against the Zarthani Knights, and were very favorably impressed with both our army and the quality of our commanders. They also have fond memories of King Kalvan. The city folk blame this invasion on Nestros' ambition and his alliance with the Styphoni and Hos-Ktemnos. We have fanned these embers with stories of the Investigation and the excesses of the Northern Kingdom highpriests of Styphon.
"The rabble inside the City are terrified. They view all the guns aimed at their Great Gates as Galzar's revenge for their King's treachery. They hate the arrogant highpriests their King has invited into their City and it will not take much of a breeze to turn their hot embers of anger into open rebellion!"
"Good," Rylla replied. "We don't have a lot of time to waste. How were my envoys received, Klestreus?"
"My spies have made sure that all inside know of your terms. They all fear your promise to tear the Great Gates from their walls. The Rathoni have never faced more than two or three cannon at one time."
"Good. They know that only surrendering the City will save them."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Word of your exploits in Phaxos have traveled far, even to the ends of the Trygath. No one in the City doubts your word."
Rylla prayed to herself: Allfather Dralm, I beseech you, let the Rathoni see reason and surrender the City. She did not want to be responsible for the massacre that would follow once the Gates were destroyed. Until Demia was born, she'd viewed war as a sport, a terrible sport but one she greatly enjoyed. Now, she saw every soldier as a mother's son, and it had robbed her of that joy. Rathon City, which had housed eighty thousand when her husband had visited, had swelled to three times that number, filled to the bursting with refugees fleeing from Hostigi swords. The killing here would set up cries that would be heard in the Sky-Palaces of the Gods!
Furthermore, she had plans for this great City. Kalvan had asked her to besiege and take Rathon City. With a new king and a good stiffening of Hostigi soldiers, the City could make a roadblock that the Styphoni could neither afford to take, nor leave behind. She meant to do her best to see that his wishes were carried out.
Chartiphon, his back ramrod straight, rode up beside her. "Your Majesty, the gunners are preparing the linstocks."
Rylla turned and saw the gunners, each standing next to a gun or bombard, holding their linstocks with a slow match in the fork. "You have my permission to fire."
"Light your matches!" Alkides cried.
She heard the drums begin to beat. The tension in the air was almost palpable. When all the matches had been lit, the fireseed smoke from the linstocks tickled her nose.
"Fire!" Alkides cried, mimicking her husband's orders.
The gunners applied the linstocks to the touch holes.
The resulting boom shook the earth, as if the God Endrath had shrugged his shoulders.
Some of the shots missed the Great Gat
es, gouging great scoops of stone out of the walls, spraying stone fragments as the huge stone balls shattered on impact! The Great Gates shuddered and one gate slowly slumped down at one end as an iron hinge collapsed. When the gray-streaked smoke cleared, she could see some of the gate timbers were crushed and broken. Another volley, maybe two, and the Great Gates would fall.
Rylla prayed to Allfather Dralm that the city dwellers inside had enough sense to surrender.
As Kalvan had reminded her, these Great Gates had held firm against the assaults of nomad hordes and barbarian armies, but they'd never experienced mass cannonading. "It will shatter their morale as well as the gates," he'd predicted. She prayed to the True Gods that he was right.
Chartiphon leaned out of his saddle, saying, "My ears are still screeching! What a sight. They must surrender, Your Majesty."
Rylla waved away the fireseed smoke so she could see. She could imagine them not surrendering quite easily. Mobs were fools, and at the moment, it was the mob who held the City in thrall; not Great King Nestros.
Once her hearing returned, she turned to Chartiphon and began to describe the rebuilding of the Great Gates and city walls. "Once we hold the City, I want to have the gates extended in stone. Then, we'll put a metal portcullis, thick enough that it will resist anything the Grand Host can hurl at it, at the first entry gate.
She got off her horse and began to make a drawing in the dirt. First, she drew an oblong circle, saying, "This is the outer wall."Then she drew a five-pointed star over it. "I want to extend the city walls to these points with a battery at the ends."
"Like the starfort that the Great King designed at Tarr-Locra?"
"Yes, Chartiphon. With guns set at the ends of the star, the Styphoni artillery will not be able to enfilade the Great Gate or any other section of the city walls with their artillery. Plus, our guns will be in a position to shoot at any of their siege towers or catapults. Then I want you to build great earthworks almost up to the top of the walls. However, leave a small area at the top where you can put a metal facing with murder holes for the rifles. That way the riflemen will be free to shoot at the attackers while protected from return fire."