by Tony Roberts
Astiras breathed out and waved his unit forward through the lines of his spearmen. He wanted now to see what was going to happen to the rest of the battle. As far as he was concerned, his men had held and thrown back all the Venn had to give. They had earned their victory. He leaned over towards Sepan, who was hot, sweaty and bloody. “Well done, Captain. Give your men water and succour; they have earned it. I shall go and join the final attack while you can rest.”
Sepan saluted wearily and waved his junior officers to form the men into units and take water. The fallen would be gathered and the wounded tended to.
Astiras now walked out on his steed to survey the battle before him. The Venn had rallied slightly with the arrival of Alcazui and his cavalry, but Vanist now waded in and struck the Venn hard. The fighting was particularly vicious, and the battle wavered to and fro. The Venn weren’t giving up easily, but they were giving ground, their retreat marked by the fallen. A cry went up and Alcazui fell from his saddle.
“That’s it,” Astrias commented. “Come on, let’s join the fray; they’re leaderless now.” He led his men on a charge, the sixty men – for two had fallen in the melee – thundering in on the exposed right flank of the horror-stricken Venn. The impact knocked the formation in on itself, crushing men. Trapped between the Mazag and the heavy cavalry of the emperor, the Venn broke, flinging away their weapons and trying to flee into the woods.
“I want prisoners!” Astiras roared. His men galloped in between groups of running men and forced many to their knees at sword point, gathering the yielded into a large group who were then escorted towards the gatehouse. They would be put to use building the walls of Zofela.
Vanist came up to Astiras and threw back his visor. He smiled grimly. “A victory, your highness,” he said in Mazag. Astiras did not understand but knew one of his men did and beckoned the man over to translate.
“Yes, and congratulations to your men, too, General,” he replied. “Mazag has shown its valor and bravery today. Word of it and your courage in battle will be sent round my lands, and all will know we have an honourable friend in Mazag.”
Vanist grunted. It was so much flattery and diplomatic nonsense, and both men knew it. Still, niceties between allies had to be observed. “Your men took those charges well. I am impressed.”
Astiras smiled, his face red and sweaty. He removed his helm. That was better. “Indeed; they shall be rewarded. Kastanian arms have recovered much of their reputation this day. I will hold a victory banquet tonight in the castle; you and your officers are invited. I shall order a street celebration for the soldiers, and your men are welcome to partake.”
Vanist bowed. The thought appealed to him. “We shall be honoured to come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have my wounded to care for.” He saluted and wheeled away.
Teduskis looked at Astiras. “A victory banquet?”
“Why not? We’ve won against a foreign power for the first time in decades. I want the entire empire made aware of it as soon as possible. Now let’s go and find out the butcher’s bill.”
They returned to the site of the battle between his men and the Venn cavalry. Bodies lay scattered over a wide area. There were more Kastanians than Venn, and here and there a dead or dying equine lay. Astiras stopped and looked at the lines of men standing before him. “Men of Kastania. You have won today through sheer courage. Standing firm before cavalry charges takes a lot of guts. I am proud of you all. Tonight, there will be a street party and you can all partake. Your fallen comrades will be honoured. Now you may return to your families and friends. Dismissed.”
The men bowed and dispersed, the strain of battle etched on their faces. Townsfolk had come out and were going from body to body, seeking their loved ones. Cries of despair and sorrow were beginning to rise up, and Astiras gently urged his equine towards the gates. “Come on Teduskis, I want to get out of this damned armor and relax. I want a tally of the fallen ready by the time I’ve had my bath.”
He left his mount at the stables and wearily walked through the ward towards the staircase. As he got to the foot of them a wild cry of joy reached his ears. Argan was bounding down, his arms out wide. Astiras braced himself. Here was one last charge he would have to take – he briefly thought of his soldiers taking the Venn cavalry – then he had a laughing and chattering boy against his breastplate. “Oh, father! It was amazing watching the battle! All those equines! Are you unhurt? Are you tired?”
Astiras smiled and gently pulled the boy from him. At the top stood Isbel, her face drawn. Taking Argan by the shoulder, he tramped up the steps. “I’m unhurt, Argan, yes. It was a noisy and hard battle, but I triumphed.”
“I knew you would! Those Mazag were scary, weren’t they? All those spears and things.”
Argan’s chattering ended as Astiras reached the top and faced Isbel. “I’m fine, my dear,” he said softly, smiling. “And we’re safe from the Venn.”
Isbel flung her arms round her husband. Astiras chuckled and squeezed his wife. “Told you everything would be alright. I was in no doubt we’d win. Now let me get out of this damned armour – I’m boiling to death in it!”
Argan was too excited to calm down. The battle had been a fascinating show from his arrow slit, and he hurried to his room to get out his military figures to play with them, recreating in his own manner the conflict he’d just witnessed. Kerrin joined him, equally excited by the spectacle. Neither saw the groaning and sobbing men lying in the shadow of the castle, their wounds being tended to by their loved ones or the women of the town. Some of the injuries were so severe that red hot iron had to be applied to cauterise the wounds.
The dead were being separated; the Kastanians laid out in neat rows to be identified, the Mazag for their own people to take care of, and the Venn who were piled in one mass, ready to be burned away from the town. Teduskis came in, hot, dirty and sweaty. Vosgaris met him at the gatehouse. “Congratulations, General,” Vosgaris said. He was irked at not being allowed to participate in the battle.
Teduskis eyed the young officer. “I know you’re not pleased at being left behind, but I feel in my bones that they’ll be back. This was too easy – Venn will try again, if only to avenge this defeat. They have plenty of soldiers spare to form another army, and Mazag may not remain our allies for too long. I imagine Venn will try to separate our alliance before coming in for another bite at us. If that’s the case, I think you may see action. I’m getting too old for this. I think I’ll be – promoted – to a ceremonial post before long.” He pulled off his steel plated gauntlets and slapped them against his thigh. “We lost quite a lot of men today, especially amongst the Bragalese. They were unarmoured and untrained, and took the full brunt of their second charge.”
“I saw. How many did we lose, General?”
“A hundred and forty-nine,” Teduskis said darkly. “And more injured. Those poor souls outside. I’m not sure how many of them will be fit to return to duty after this. General Vanist tells me he lost an equal number.”
“Three hundred? So many!”
“Aye. Venn lost more – just over four hundred, and another hundred and seventy or so taken prisoner. Something like eighty-five got away, but they won’t last very long, not with the Bragalese hunting them. They’ll get even for the burning of their villages. I wouldn’t be surprised to come across a few hanging Venn by the roadsides in the next few days.”
Vosgaris pursed his lips. “Then their entire army has been lost.”
“Oh yes. That won’t go down well. Their diplomat is one of the prisoners and I suspect he’ll be set free to take the news back to Venn. No doubt I’ll be assigned to escort him,” Teduskis pulled a face. “You’ll have to excuse me, Captain, but I must go and get out of these things,” he slapped his armour.
Vosgaris saluted and waited till the general vanished through the keep entrance before turning to his guardsmen, standing patiently in a line on the grassy border of the ward. “Alright men, you can get to your normal duties. Keep alert; t
here may be rogue Venn wandering about. Challenge anyone you’re not sure of. Dismissed.”
He wandered into the keep, hearing the excited chatter about the victory. Another triumph for Astiras. He wondered just how long the old warrior would be able to keep going. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Alenna appeared, her face breaking into a mixture of relief and pleasure. She kissed him lightly. “I’m glad that’s all done with! I was worried for quite some time that we’d be put to the sword.”
“You should have more faith in the emperor and the men, Alenna. We’re no longer the directionless and demoralised rabble of a few years back. Kastania still has teeth.”
“Hmm, and how much is that due to the Mazag helping us? I’m not stupid, Vosgaris. If it had been down to just the Venn and us, would we have won?”
“Who knows?” Vosgaris shrugged. “The point is our alliance held and emerged victorious. Oh, tonight, there’s a victory banquet. You and I are to come. Best outfit.”
“Oh! I’ve not got one,” Alenna said, dismayed. “At least not good enough for a banquet with the emperor!”
“Leave it to me,” Vosgaris said and squeezed her around the middle before walking on, checking the doors and windows. He found himself outside the imperial chamber, knocked, and entered once permission had been given. The two guards outside hadn’t batted an eyelid.
The room seemed full of people. Astiras was stood in the middle, stripped down to his padding. His armour was piled in one corner. He was dictating the victory message to Pepil. Isbel and Frendicus were to one side while the Mazag diplomat Meri was deep in conversation with Cleric Waylar, two people Vosgaris thought he would never see together. He sidled up to the empress. “Ma’am; this banquet tonight.”
“Yes, Captain, what of it?”
“Alenna – well, she says she had no fitting outfit for it.”
Isbel sighed. “I see. Very well, I shall send my fitter to her now. It’ll be a quick fit, so I hope she’s got a normal shaped body.”
“Oh, yes ma’am, that she does,” Vosgaris grinned.
Isbel pursed her lips, then smiled as Vosgaris moved away. That man!
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The news spread round the empire rapidly. Town criers announced the victory in town and city squares, and posters were stuck up in prominent locations. The relief and jubilation was palpable, for many had feared the worst when the war had been announced. Now perhaps there was a feeling of cautious optimism.
Thetos Olskan was realistic, however. He knew Turslenka was right in the path of any Venn invasion, and it would be their first target. He looked out of his office window, lost in thought. He’d received Astiras’ letter from that strange boyish looking priest on his way to Kornith, warning him to be as prepared as he could. Thetos shook his head slowly. He had enough men to man the ramparts and nothing else. Any concerted effort from Venn would surely break in and put them all to the sword.
Still, the defeat at Zofela would make the Venn cautious now. Their dilemma would be whether to invade again or to fully investigate why they had lost. Were the Kastanian armies stronger than believed, or Venn’s weaker? Was the victory down to Mazag help? Were their tactics faulty? There were a number of variables, but Thetos had little doubt the enemy would come again.
What did he have to defend the city with? Two companies of militiamen and two companies of regulars. Five hundred and fifty men. Not much. Alright sitting behind the walls of the city but not good enough to go marching out. Would the emperor come to assist should they be put under siege? It was all unknown. Thetos would have to make an inspection of the walls and make sure they were up to the task of resisting a siege. Wooden walls tended to rot over time. They had small towers at regular intervals, but they were merely there to buttress the walls rather than serve as strongpoints. They had three gatehouses which were the strongest part of the defences. Once they were breached the plan would be to fall back to the city square, block the roads and try to stop the Venn from capturing the governor’s residence.
A knock came on the door and a guard leaned in as it opened. “Sire, a visitor.”
“I’m seeing nobody, you know that.” Thetos had become a semi-recluse since Metila had gone.
“Yes, sire, but I think you’ll want to see this visitor.” He stepped aside and a small figure entered, the door closing behind him. The figure was cloaked and hooded in grey. The face was in shadow.
“Who are you?” Thetos demanded.
The figure straightened and threw back the hood. Thetos gasped. Metila stood there, a half smile on her face. “You not want to see me?”
“Oh, by the gods…..” Thetos trembled. “Metila!”
Metila lifted off her pack that was slung over one shoulder and dropped it to the floor. Her cloak was fixed by a single clasp around her throat and she unclipped it. The cloak dropped too, and she stood there naked. “You want?”
Thetos groaned and strode over to her, taking her by the arms. “Yes, yes! Metila – where have you been?”
“No talk, love,” she breathed and clamped her mouth onto his, her tongue pushing into him. Thetos grunted and began running his one good hand over her body, feeling the familiar sensual and lithe form of the woman. Metila writhed against him, enjoying the knowledge he was getting excited. Today she would not need any potions. Thetos would perform to her fulfilment, she knew.
___
Jorqel dropped the victory announcement onto his desk. So his father had won; Kastanian honour was restored. It would raise morale and engender a feeling of pride in all the armed units throughout the empire. Perhaps now was the right time to put his plan into action. Throughout the summer he had been working on his invasion of Romos. Kiros Louk had secured the landing spot. The spy had wormed his way into the militia volunteers to patrol the coastlines, and Kiros had been happy to accept a spot on a sandy stretch close to the eastern tip of the island. It was just about the most remote spot, but away from the sheer cliffs that rose along most of the shore.
The only issue with that place was that the tides were strong there as they ebbed and flowed around the tip, joining the Aester Sea. It would take a good sailor to perform the job, and sadly Admiral Fostan would not be the man to do it; he’d lost his life in a recent storm that had battered the Lodrian coast along with sixty crew. Both his vessels had been beached to be repaired properly, and now were almost ready to go. It had to be in the next seven days or so as the autumn storms were becoming frequent, and winter time would not be the best time to launch his move.
The third and last squadron of mounted archers had been passed out, and he now knew that Efsia and Aconia had to supply all the merchant vessels they had to transport the equines to Romos. Including his bodyguard there would be nearly three hundred of the beasts, and that required a lot of space. Fortunately the sea voyage would not be too long. The only other issue was to persuade Sannia to come along with little Merza.
He left his quarters and sought out the castellan, Fostan Carras. The castellan was, as usual, studying the accounts and scribbling hard on a parchment. “Carras,” Jorqel said from the doorway of the castellan’s quarters, “I would speak with you.”
“Sire,” Carras stood, bowed, and waited for the prince to seat himself in the spare chair before sitting back down himself.
“I am shortly to depart for Romos. I shall be gone some time, maybe a few years. I trust that the work I have begun here will be continued under your stewardship? I am putting a lot of trust and faith in you to follow my orders here, since you shall be, in effect, the governor.”
Carras bowed. “I understand, my lord. Fear not, I shall follow your orders in all matters. What units will remain behind to defend the province?”
“All except the mounted units. I am taking them and none others. You will have command of the Army of the West. You will be given the honorary rank of Commander. I shall of course continue to send you letters from Romos and expect you to reply accordingly. Now, next year I wish you to oversee the
second rebuild of Slenna.”
“Another build, sire? We have only just got used to the enlarged town.”
Jorqel nodded. “I understand, but people are still coming here, many from former imperial lands further west, and we need to expand yet again.” He slid out from his tunic a folded piece of paper. “A castle and wall of stone.”
“Stone, sire? Where shall we get the material? None is to be found around here. The cost!”
“Fear not, Carras. One of the reasons I’m taking Romos now is to make the seas between Zipria and here safe from piracy. Our stone will come from Zipria, since they have already built a castle and town wall out of stone. They have the material and the experience. I shall arrange for engineers to journey here once Romos is secure, and seal a contract for the delivery of stone to Efsia. From there the journey is short to our walls here, so a number of wagons should be able to carry the material without any trouble. You shall arrange that.”
“Sire.” Carras took the sheet and opened it, smoothing it on the table top, examining the schematics of the new design. “Hmmm. Two gatehouses, west and south. The keep to be set on an earthen mound….. yes…. The wall to be roughly rectangular with towers at regular intervals. Good…. It should take two years to build without hindrance.”
“My assessment exactly. I am leaving you two thousand five hundred furims to pay for it all in the treasury below. Spend it wisely. I expect you to be within budget.”
Carras looked shocked. “So much sire? How did you…… oh, apologies, it is not my place to ask such questions.”
“No it is not. You will encompass the mounted archer stables in the new boundaries.”
Carras bowed. Jorqel left, now escorted by Gavan and two other guards. They went outside and walked down the slope to the town, then turned left and made their way along the damp earth track towards the gatehouse. Once stone was used for the walls and castle, the roads and streets would be paved, too, and no more would they pick up mud and other filth from their outside walks.