'They are improving,' he answered judiciously, 'and the enemy, have never dealt with horseback raiders of any kind. That is a great advantage. We mean to weaken them, not defeat them.'
'I suppose that is the most I can hope for, then. Perhaps with you and Rerin and Leovigild we may come through this.'
'Will the boy be of that much value?' said Conan, nettled at her obvious attraction to the youth.
She looked back at him coolly. 'Of course. When Odoac dies, the Thungians may give their allegiance to him without dishonour. We may then form an alliance with them against the Tormanna.'
'And a royal marriage,' Conan said, 'followed by a merging of the peoples?'
'Of course,' she said. 'That is how it is done among royal families. If we slay Totila, the Tor-manna may elect to ally themselves with us as well. He has no heir.'
'So be it then!' Conan barked. He whirled on his heel and stalked away.
'Conan!' she called.
He turned, his anger draining away. Against the hulking stone wall she stood, small but regal. He prepared to endure another royal dressing-down, but when she spoke, her voice was gentle.
'When a queen plans for her future, it must not be as a woman following the desires of her heart, but as a ruler who must do what is best for her people. I would that it were not so.' Saying no more, she turned and started back for the hall. Conan stared after.
That night in the hall they feasted well, but Alcuina was careful to ration the ale. They would be riding out before first light to try their first foray against the enemy. Conan hoped to have the morrow for further training in their first encampment before splitting up into raiding parties, but there might not be time. He was glad that he had battle to look forward to. It took his mind away from Alcuina.
The younger men talked nervously of the adventure to come. Win or lose, this fight would be remembered, if only because it would be so unorthodox. The older men were less voluble. Many of them were extremely doubtful of such outlandish tactics. How could men fight properly if they could not feel the ground beneath their feet? At least none of them seemed to be downcast
or gloomy. It was nearly impossible for northerners to be cheerless when battle was in the offing.
Conan tore at a joint of veal with his teeth. They were not a trained and drilled army, but he had little liking for armies in any case. He had led far worse men into battle. These were brave and loyal, however unsophisticated their warfare might be. He felt a touch at his shoulder and looked up to see Leovigild standing beside him.
'Conan,' the younger man began, 'I mink you may have been the salvation of our people. Your services will not go unrewarded. When this is over, you could be a great earl, with wide lands, and peasants and thralls to work it. When I come into my inheritance, I shall not be known as an ungrateful king.'
Conan grasped Leovigild's arm and hauled the young man down to sit on the bench beside him. He leaned close and spoke slowly and steadily. 'Three things, boy . . .' He held up a single, greasy finger. 'One, I serve Alcuina, not you. Any rewarding is for her to do, not you. Two'—he placed a second finger beside the first—'never congratulate a man for a victory that is yet unwon. The gods don't like it and have been known to punish such presumption. Three'—the third finger went up beside the other two—'I sail south with the springtime. Land is difficult to take on shipboard in any quantity, so I'll take my reward in gold, if Crom and Ymir grant us the victory.'
To Conan's surprise Leovigild grinned broadly at his words. 'Truly, the Cimmerians are as grim and gloomy as legend has it. I thank you for words of wisdom. We'll talk of reward later. For now, you are the greatest champion in the Northland, and I am a penniless outcast who rejoices to follow you into battle. Let the victory fall where the gods wish it.'
Conan smiled thinly. Despite all his best efforts, he could not keep from liking the boy. 'However it befalls,' he said, 'there will be blood on the snow soon.'
Conan surveyed his little army. They had been granted an extra, precious day to train in their encampment. This had been invaluable, for it gave him a chance to drill them in the art of remaining hidden among the trees, then charging down upon the enemy at a signal. The men had been divided into six squadrons, three to each enemy army. It had taken Conan all day to get them coordinated enough that he could count on the squadrons to strike the head, centre, and rear of each enemy army simultaneously. He was not so sure that they would break off engagement as reliably. However, he saw no choice. The best way for a smaller army to engage a larger was to catch the greater force in marching order.
As they dismounted at their campfires to prepare for the night, he felt that they were now as ready as he could make them. It was just as well, because he saw a party of huntsmen coming from the tree line. They ran up to him, and one of them, a tousle-headed youth who carried a boar-spear; reported.
'We've found the Tormanna, lord. When we left, they were eight hours march from here, as slowly as they were walking. They will be bedding down about now, perhaps six hours away.'
'Have they an advance guard out?' Conan asked.
The youth shook his head. 'No. All together, with a
few mounted men at the head of the lot. We saw King Totila. Him we knew by his cloak of men's hair.'
'Good,' Conan said. 'On the morrow, before first light, you shall lead one of our force to a good place on their route of march for an attack.' Within the hour another little band of huntsmen came in to report that the Thungians had been spotted, coming by a more southerly route. If all went well both of Alcuina's forces should spring their first ambush about midday upon the morrow.
It had been agreed that Conan would lead the group to attack the Thungians. Leovigild would lead the attack against the Tormanna. This disturbed Conan because he was certain that Totila and his Tormanna were the more dangerous enemy, and he would have preferred to lead the attack himself. The warriors had insisted, though, that the band not led by the queen's champion must be led by a man of royal blood, and Leovigild would not fight his fellow Thungians. In spite of Conan's reputation those in Leovigild's party counted themselves lucky, for they would have a chance to show their prowess and loyalty before the man who was likely to be their next king.
They arose before the tardy .winter sun and readied themselves. Before parting, Conan took Siggeir to one side. The man was to ride beside Leovigild as his second in command, charged with giving the signal to attack. 'Siggeir, do not let Leovigild try to fight Totila himself. From what I've heard of that man, it would be death for an untried lad to challenge him.'
Siggeir was silent for a moment. 'I shall do my best, and advise against it, but how may any man keep a spirited youth from snatching all the glory he can? He'll be wanting to show Alcuina he's brave as well as wise.'
Conan clapped him on the shoulder. 'Just do what you can. In the end he must face the same dangers as the rest of us, I suppose.' Conan turned to his following. 'Mount up! We ride now!' He swung into the saddle of his little, northern stallion and faced Leovigild. He raised an arm. 'Good hunting, prince!'
Leovigild returned the salute. 'We'll meet again, warrior. In Alcuina's hall or Ymir's!'
There was a brief thunder of hooves, a flurry of churned-up snow, and the two bands split up, one to the west, the other to the south.
Conan stood beside his horse, holding the cloth that covered its eyes. He and his men were well within the cover of the trees, but with a good view of the road below. The Thungians were coming, and they were already well past the first two squadrons. Conan's own force would strike the head of the column. His hand gripped the sword at his waist.
He had scoured Alcuina's armoury to find one long enough to use from horseback. At length he found one, Aquilonian by the look of it. It had probably been a gift from one chief to another in years gone by. It might never have been used, since it was unsuited to the local style of combat.
Conan judged that the Thungians were close enough. 'Mount,' he said in a quiet voice.
The men stripped the covers from their horses' heads and hooves. They all wore wide grins of anticipation. They readied their spears, and Conan's sword rasped from its sheath. He nodded to Hagbard, who sat his horse beside Conan. The man raised a hunting-horn to
his lips and winded a long, loud blast. With a shout they spurred their mounts down the long slope.
The men below looked up in amazement at the little band of horsemen who bore down upon them. Surely this could not be an attack. Why were the men mounted? Why did they not get off their horses if they wanted to fight? Where were the customary boasts and taunts that always preceded combat? Then they had no more leisure for speculation as the horsemen collided with them.
Conan leaned far out and swung his blade down over the edge of a shield. The man he faced was unused to such blows and failed to raise his shield high enough. The steel sword opened a gap in his bronze helm, and he fell with blood pouring from the rent metal. Conan glanced about and saw that his men were making a good account of themselves, thrusting their spears over the shields of the foe. A few had given in to the temptation to cast their spears, something he had specifically forbidden them to do, and now had nothing to fight with except their swords.
A man thrust at Conan with a spear, and he flicked the shaft aside before chopping into the man's shoulder. The man fell, cursing, and Conan noticed a tight knot of men who surrounded a fat, grey-bearded man in fine armour. This must be Odoac and his household warriors. Conan tried to force a way to him, but his horse was unused to the clamour of war and would go no farther.
'Hagbard!' Conan called. 'Sound your horn!'
Hagbard broke away from his fight and raised the horn. At the signal, most of the men drew away from the battle and rode up to the trees. Conan waited for a moment to see how well they were obeying the signal. As he had feared, several were fighting on in a berserk fay. Quickly, those were overpowered and slain. He even saw one leap from the back of his horse onto an enemy and grapple on the ground briefly before being cut to pieces.
Amid the trees the horsemen regrouped. Conan made a quick count and found that they had lost ten men. He had expected to lose more. Henceforth, their losses should be fewer because now the berserks and the fools were dead.
'Shall we try them again, Conan?' called a man who had blood running from beneath the rim of his helm.
'Not today,' Conan answered. 'It is too late for another sally, and the horses are too excited. We'll find a good camp and hit them early tomorrow, then once or twice more before nightfall.'
That night the men sat around their campfires talking happily among themselves, as: if they had won a great victory instead of a trifling raid against their enemy, with no more than a score of the foe slain or wounded. Conan smiled grimly. They would not be so exuberant by the next night. By then they would have learned that this kind of fighting was long, hard, dangerous work with little glory in it.
'What do you think, Conan?' asked Hagbard. 'Did we not do well today?'
'Aye,' Conan said. 'Most of the men performed better than I had hoped.'
Hagbard grinned. 'The Thungians huddled like sheep. They will be no stop to us.'
'Today they were surprised. Tomorrow morning they will be a little less so. After that it is only a matter of time until they find out how to fight us and how easy it is for men behind a shield-wall to deal with horsemen,
especially when they are not mounted on trained animals.'
'Is it so easy?' asked Hagbard, crestfallen.
Conan gave a curt nod. 'Today, out of habit, they struck at the riders. Soon they will realise that it is much easier to kill the horses. When we see spearmen lunging for the mounts while others engage the riders, we'll know that it is time to ride for the garth.'
Totila cursed the dense flurry of snow that had begun to fall. The horsemen had struck them twice the day before, and once this day. The magpies flew close by his head to perch upon Lilma's shoulders.
'Saw they anything?' Totila demanded.
'No, my king,' Lilma answered. 'The snow is too dense.' He hesitated. 'I feel some wizardry in this snow. It is not of natural origin.'
Totila spent a brief moment in thought. After the first strike the day before, the horsemen had attacked in the midst of snows such as this.
'Band together!' he shouted. 'Form a shield-wall here! They'll be back soon!'
The column of marching men closed up quickly and stood shield-to-shield. They were grim and impatient for combat. The will-o'-the-wisp horsemen had struck and run without giving them any target for their wrath. This time the king was getting them ready to fight before seeing or hearing the hated horsemen. They waited in tense silence.
Leovigild waited nervously at the edge of the trees. They could hear the marching men below, but they could not see them. He had not thought of this when the old wizard had suggested this plan of action. The snow blinded the birds, but it blinded the horsemen as well. He turned to Rerin.
'I do not like this. We had an advantage when we could see them. Perhaps this was not so good an idea.'
'It was the only hope,' Rerin told him. 'And it did give us two undetected ambushes.' He looked around him at the falling snow. 'You had best make your move. The snow will thin soon.'
'They've stopped,' said Siggeir, who sat his mount at Leovigild's side.
Leovigild thought on this for a moment. 'Totila is no fool. We hit him twice in the snow. Now he expects us to strike while it is snowing.' He came to a swift decision. 'Siggeir, ride quickly and bring the other two squadrons here. If they are no longer strung out in line of march, it will be useless to strike them in three small groups. Best to pick one spot on the shield-wall and throw all our force against it.'
'That was not Conan's instruction,' said Rerin doubtfully.
'Conan is not here,' said Leovigild. 'I am.'
'Stick to your spells, Rerin,' Siggeir advised. 'Leave battle to the warriors.' He wheeled his horse and was off. The many dents and nicks in Leovigild's armour testified to his willingness to get into the thick of the fight. That was enough for the Cambres.
'Do not worry,' Leovigild assured Rerin with a smile, 'I think this is the course Conan would have advised had he been here.'
Before the snow had begun to thin, the rest of the men had ridden up to form a group around Leovigild. 'We'll find them in a shield-wall down there,' he called out. 'This time we must not split up, but strike as a single force against one part of the wall. Those we do not engage can do nothing but watch. Do not try to seek out a champion to fight, but help your comrades to break the wall. We can hurt them sorely that way. When order the horn sounded, break off and rally in the trees.'
'Where do we hit them?' asked Siggeir.
'Where Totila stands,' Leovigild answered. 'You have all seen him by now. Follow me. When I see him, I'll ride for him. If we can slay Totila, the war may be won at a stroke. Now, let's ride!' With a ferocious roar, the men charged off after Leovigild, leaving Rerin to wait worriedly.
'Here they come!' Totila shouted, grinning between the cheek-plates of his helm. He drew his sword. 'Let's see how well they fight against men who are prepared!' His men shouted their approval.
The horsemen turned when they were within spear-range and began to ride along the face of the shield-wall. Totila knew they were looking for him, and he made no effort to hide himself. His helm and cloak were famed throughout the Northland, and he was anxious to try their best men.
In the van of the attackers was a handsome, fair-haired young man he had marked before for his bravery. He had little doubt that this was young Leovigild, cast out by Odoac. He wondered where the black-haired champion might be. He longed to test himself against that man. On the other hand, killing Odoac's heir would be a fine political move.
Leovigild saw Totila standing in the forefront. This was no man to huddle in the midst of his housecarls like Odoac. The sight of Totila standing there so fearlessly caused Leovigild to forget the wise advice of Conan, Rerin,
and Siggier. He pointed with his spear and charged straight at Totila. Just before he collided with the shield-wall, he heard Totila shout to his men: 'Hold your places and thrust at the horses! They are helpless without them!'
Then he was within spear-thrust of the man with the splendid helm and the cloak of men's hair. He thrust strongly, but Totila cut away his spear point with contemptuous ease. Had he followed Conan's advice Leovigild would have withdrawn to let another spearman have a chance at Totila. Instead he drew his sword and cut at the magnificent helm. Totila blocked easily with his shield. Leovigild could only reach out with the tip of his sword. In frustration, he leaped to the ground and attacked Totila shield-to-shield. With a fierce grin, Totila met him savagely. His blows rained down so swiftly that Leovigild barely had time to ward them, much less to send blows back in reply.
In desperation,. Leovigild cut low at Totila's knee. With an agility that was amazing in so large a man, Totila leaped over the cut, leaving Leovigild bent far over with the follow-through of his blow, his shield lowered. Totila's first blow smashed against the younger man's helmet. His second split the tough bronze of his cuirass.
Totila was preparing the deathblow when a pack of Cambres rode up, pushing him back with their spears. The biggest of them leaned from his saddle, grabbed the youth by the collar of his backplate, and hauled him across the saddle. Then Leovigild's rescuer set a hunting-horn to his lips and sounded it. With a flurry of churned-up snow, the horsemen rode off.
Totila accepted the praise of his men for his fight with the youth. Then he surveyed the enemy dead.
There were at least a dozen. 'How many did we lose?' he called.
'About half a score,' said a grizzled warrior who was binding up a cut arm.
'No advantage to them, then,' Totila said triumphantly. 'So, when it is clear, Lilma's birds will tell us they are coming. When it is too snowy for the birds to fly, we will know that they are coming! We've nothing to fear from them, so let's march to Alcuina's garth and finish this matter!' With a shout of joy, the Tormanna followed their king.
The Conan Chronology Page 346