Champion of the Last Battle Page 3

  The broad, thick shoulders of the young thoheeks rose then fell in a shrug. “Intelligent as are the prairiecats, Lieutenant Vahk, numbers larger than a bare score or so have ever been beyond their calculation abilities. But he did say that their camp covered two hillocks on either side of a vale through which the road runs and in which he thinks they mean to take their stand on the morrow and so force a battle. Lacking cavalry as they do, that would be the sensible thing — to run their flanks up the slopes on either side. That’s what I’d do in their circumstances, anyway. Either that or form my pikes up into a porcupine . . . but of course the ever-present danger to the porcupine formation is that it is damned hard to maintain that formation should it be necessary to move forward, backward or sideways for any reason, most especially over the type of terrain we’ll be fighting on.

  “There is one thing that might be to our advantage or just as easily to our bloody disadvantage considering that battles seldom go as you plan them. Whitetip noted that a stream, a smaller tributary of this one beside which we are camped, flows southward smack down the middle of that vale, with the road paralleling it.

  “Now, if it flows sufficiently shallow, if the bottom be firm and even and if these Skohshuns are proved not astute enough to have blocked the way with felled trees or boulders or suchlike, it just might be the key to more easily breaching their hedge. Those poor pikemen would have more than enough to do merely keeping their balance on cold-numbed feet and slippery rocks, while handling twoscore or more pounds of hardwood and steel against the big targets presented by horsemen, but if they are suddenly assaulted by fleet, nimble, hard-to-close-with opponents engaging in a new and unorthodox maneuver . . . ?

  “Of course, my folk, this is but idle and probably hopeless speculation, for no seasoned commander who is not either addled or senile is going to put good men in so exposed — obviously exposed — a position without giving them the cover of an abattis. Therefore, I think we had best anticipate attacking on the levelest stretch of ground we can espy, which will likely mean up the road to their lines. And because the road clearly offers an ideal avenue for a cavalry charge, no doubt the hedge will be thickest thereabouts, too.

  “So look you for a brisk engagement a hard fight and a good possibility of heavy losses despite our training, our heavier armor and the body shields.”

  Captain Fil Tyluh spoke as Bili paused to take a draft from a jack of ale.

  “I have no doubt that we can break the hedge. Duke Bili, for a brief time, anyway — it’s all been done many times ere this, up north, in the Middle Kingdoms. But there are just too few of us, even before battle casualties to improve upon the breach or even to hold our initial gains. Can we be sure, certain sure, that this King Mahrtuhn will charge with his three battles to consolidate that for which we will have fought so hard?”

  Bili shook his shaven head brusquely. “In one word, Fil, no; no, we cannot. As ever — at least since we have known him — King Mahrtuhn will ride when and where his honor drives him . . . and his heir will be beside him.

  “However, I have the sworn word of Prince Byruhn that he will definitely bring his own battle to support us whenever we have clearly weakened or breached the pike hedge.”

  Tyluh slammed fist to callused palm. “But, Duke Bili, that’s not enough! His grace, Prince Byruhn, commands the smallest, most ill-armed and -mounted battle of the three, dammit. Even adding our numbers — or what numbers we might by then have still on their feet — to his, there still will be insufficient strength to roll up the exposed flanks fast enough so they can’t reclose, likely trapping us all behind their line in the process, to be slain at their leisure.”

  Bili clenched his two big hands together, snapping the knuckles with loud cracks which punctuated his words. “Yes, Fil, I know; I, too, have thought it through, and all that you say is only too true. That’s precisely why I’ve come to at least one decision.

  “That decision is this, and all of you hear me well: We will do what we have said we would do. That is, we will perform our function or all die in the attempt. But when once that section of the hedge is broken and in temporary confusion, our horse holders are to bring all of the mounts as near as possible and we will withdraw, remount and retire; that’s if none of the battles come to reinforce us.

  “However, in the event that Prince Byruhn brings his battle alone, we still will withdraw, but we will allow his attack to screen our withdrawal. The only circumstance in which we will not withdraw will be if all three battles come to consolidate the victory, in which case we will remount, but then return to the fight a-horse.

  “Do all of you fully comprehend all that I’ve just said? if so, I’ll now take on questions or objections.”

  Chapter II

  Atop the crest of the ridge nearest to the larger stream, in the driest spot he had found — beneath a rock overhang and but bare yards from a Skohshun watchpost — the prairiecat Whitetip observed the enemy camp occupying the tops of the two hills on the other side of the vale. His keen hearing, however, did the yeoman share of his “observation.” for his was not the long-distance vision of a hound, though he could see better in dim light than hound or horse or man.

  He could, for instance, see the forms of the large body of men working in and about the small, swift stream at a point just past the narrowest part of the smaller vale that separated the hills and entered the larger vale at a right angle. He could not see well enough, however, to be certain just what the men were doing. His ears told him of vast splashings in the water, groans and gasps of effort, cursing and occasional shouts in tones of command.

  The camps themselves seemed quiet, with most of the host sunk in sleep, after having fed heavily on roasted meat and grain porridge. Now and then, here and there, a horse stamped or whickered, oxen lowed or small rocks shifted under the feet of pacing sentries. With a single exception, all that was visible of the hilltop camps through the dark and the misty rain was the dim and flaring glows of the torches that marked out the camp perimeters.

  The exception was at the center of the westernmost camp to Whitetip’s left. There, the environs of several large tents blazed inside and out with the tight of torches and lamps and battle lanterns, The figures of men, tiny with the distance, scuttled hither and yon like beetles over a fresh cowpat. Whitetip could dimly discern the rattling and clinkings of their weapons and armor and spurs, the creaking of their leather goods as they moved; but the distance was just too great to strain out speech from all the other noises.

  * * *

  “The only known way to completely waterproof boots is to first grease all the seams, then coat them with hot tar . . . and we have no tar, either hot or cold. That little brook runs cold as ice, brigadier, and if my pikemen have to stand in that running water for longer than a few minutes, every one of them will not only be in agony, but useless for any quick movements in any direction.”

  The aged officer looked up from where he sat before the large map his staff had prepared for this meeting, smoothed his flaring mustaches with the back of his thumb in an unconscious gesture and asked in a mild tone which was belied by the glare fixed on the speaker from beneath his shaggy brows, “Yes, colonel, we all know well that mountain brook water tends to run cold, that infantry boots tend to leak unless tarred and that living flesh and bone immersed in cold water tend to become numb. But what, pray tell, would you suggest? That we leave a gap in our pike hedge, mayhap?

  “Your regiment still was holding the point of embarkation on the north bank when last we fought these Kuhmbuhluhners, colonel, but surely you are aware of how very close they came to breaching our hedge last autumn. They are the most dangerous foe we have come across in many a long decade, and God is to be thanked that there are so few of them. But, few as there now are, were we to give those feisty bastards such an opening, I doubt me not they’d be rolling up one or the other of our wings from inside out in a trice, and more than your pikemen’s feet would become cold and stay that way with bellies fu
ll of steel and all their blood run out.”

  The old man paused, and, prominent Adam’s apple working, he downed a good half of his pint jack of beer. Sir Djaimz, the senior colonel, chose this moment to say a few words, hoping to soothe some of the sting of his superior’s bitterly sarcastic comments.

  “Colonel Potter, we all of us recognize and appreciate your insistent solicitude for the welfare of your pikemen. It is an attitude that all of your peers and subordinates would do well to emulate. But Brigadier Sir Ahrthur has given the matter his usual well-thought-out planning and rigorous attention to details. He and the earl and I have discussed this projected action at great length, and the course he has recently outlined to you all is the sum of our mutual thoughts, However, as no man or group of men can ever hope to be all-knowing, we still remain open to suggestions . . . ?”

  The officer so addressed drew his big-boned. beefy frame up to its full five-foot-six and said, a bit hesitantly, “Well . . . ahhh. Well, why not fill the streambed with stones and overlay them with planks or adzed-flat tree boles, eh? Not only would the ranks have a firm, relatively dry footing, but they’d be a bit above the horsemen.”

  Which would also put them a bit above the flanking units, put in another of the assembled officers, “thereby making the hedge uneven and vulnerable at the two joints. Besides, what you suggest would serve to dam the brook and turn what little level ground exists into a quagmire of cold mud.”

  Colonel Potter shrugged. “What of it, sir? We could just form up a short distance north of that soft ground, then. It would certainly slow any cavalry charge at our front and might even necessitate that these Kuhmbuhluhners dismount and come at us afoot.”

  “You had better hope and earnestly pray, colonel, that such as that never happens,” intoned the brigadier solemnly. “Get it through your head, man, these Kuhmbuhluhners are not the speedy lancers and lightly armed foot of the Ohyoh folk; rather do they war in full — or, at worst, three-quarter — plate armor. And on those thankfully rare — else none of us would be here today! — occasions when our formations have been broken in hand-to-hand combat, it was done by just such as these folk, on foot.”

  But . . . but, Sir Ahrthur,” yelped one of the youngest of the assembly. “save for the cowardly attacks of bowmen or dartmen or slingers, our hedges are invulnerable in the defense and invincible on the attack. Everyone knows that.”

  The brigadier briefly showed worn teeth. “Whose puppy are you, youngster? Oh, one of Colonel Alpine’s aides, eh? Well, spout that sort of propaganda to the other ranks as often as they’ll stand still for it, but if you start believing it yourself, I doubt me you’ll live long enough for your voice to finish changing.

  “Invulnerable? Pah! Invincible? Twiddle! Were we either, why do you think we are not still living on our rich, hard-won lands up in the Ohyoh country, instead of hunkering on stony mountains and making ready to fight for such poor land, atop it all? Our entire racial history, ever since the Greeks drove our ancestors out of their rightful homes, has been a succession of fight-win-hold for a while, then fight-lose and move on to fight again.

  “We have honed our skills over the generations, developed new ones in some cases, and that we average more wins than losses is the sole reason we still exist as a people. But never ever doubt for one minute that we are vulnerable, my boy, for we are, we are terribly vulnerable — lightly armored foot soldiers always are.”

  “This is probably no time to broach the matter,” put in Colonel Bruce Farr, “but with all the armor we captured at the fortress-valley or have stripped off slain or wounded foemen in the last few campaigns, we could easily have put at least the first two or three ranks in half- or even three-quarter-armor, as we did the short-polemen and the horsemen. Instead, most of that fine armor lies baled up or locked in chests awaiting God knows what, while our pikemen still do their fighting in nothing more than breastplates, ring-sewn gauntlets, steel caps and boots fined with horn splints for greaves.

  Now, I know, I know, I’ve heard it all before. It’s a tradition that Skohshun pikemen need no walls about their towns or armor on their bodies, the pike hedge serving for both. But how many dead and maimed pikemen has this hoary, overhallowed tradition cost us over the years, brigadier?”

  The old officer heaved himself to his feet with a crackling of joints and, as he strode stiff-leggedly toward the entry, said, “Would you care to answer the good colonel, Sir Djaimz? My bladder seems to shrink with increasing age.”

  The senior colonel nodded to his superior, then said, “Look you, Colonel Farr, one of the dearest values of Scotian pikemen is that, in formation mind you, they can move almost as fast as mounted heavy horse, but they would lose this definite advantage were we to weigh them all down with upward of fifty pounds of steel. Nor could our pikemen rapidly withdraw burdened with even half-armor. As all here know, they are neither trained for nor expected to engage in breast-to-breast encounters; that’s what the horsemen and the short-pole-men are for. They are expected to be simply one more thorn in the hedge, doing what damage they do at a distance of no less than twelve feet from the foe, and if the hedge be sundered and cannot be speedily closed, they are expected to drop their pikes and withdraw as rapidly as possible, not try to take on armored and/or mounted foemen with a shortsword and a breastplate alone for weapon and protection. No new pike hedges can he fashioned of dead heroes.

  “However, Colonel Farr, you may well be the voice of our future, do we stay hereabouts. The armaments and tactics I have just detailed were fashioned in and for the flatter, less forested terrain of those lands we just quitted. Maneuver on any broad scale is difficult if not impossible of successful accomplishment amid these thick-grown hills and stony mountains and narrow, twisting little vales. Does tomorrow’s battle not win these lands for us, perhaps we will find it expedient to sacrifice unneeded speed for needed protection and put our pikemen in more steel.”

  Beyond the yellow-red glow of the bright-lit tents of the noblemen and officers, lulled by the powerful soporifics of a long march, a heavy meal and extra beer rations, those of the Skohshun pikemen not guarding the perimeter or laboring in the vale slept deeply. Most of them were veterans, and battles and battle eves were nothing new to them — if they proved destined to die on the morrow, then die they would; if not, then life would go on.

  The long pikes and the other polearms of each battalion stood stacked about the huge, thick pole of the unit device. The polished hardwood of the hafts reflected the wind-whipped light of the torches and watchfires, but most of the steel points were far above that guttering light so that only the occasional rising errant spark brought a glint in the bright white steel.

  Grouped about each stack of polearms and pikes, in orderly lines, the pikemen rolled in their cloaks, their heads pillowed on their marching packs. Their breastplates, helmets, shortswords and dirks lay ready to hand for any sudden nocturnal alarum, though properly covered from the damp dews of the night. Every man’s heavy boots stood in their assigned place, flanked by his horn-and-hide greaves.

  Within five minutes or less, a regiment of steeping Skohshun pikemen could be up and fully armed and in their ordered formation to repel attack. Within twenty minutes, all save the rearguards could have struck camp and been on the march. Inured almost from birth to fast, cross-country hiking, the Skohshun regiments could and often did cover better than twenty-four miles in a day’s march.

  Atop the ridge just south of those hilltop camps, a very damp and disgruntled prairiecat huddled as deeply as possible into the hollow beneath the rock overhang. The drizzle was finer than mist but persistent, and now and then a stronger gust of wind would bear it and its cold, wet discomfort in upon the big furry body.

  Though Whitetip’s amber eyes were closed, his every other sense was fully alert. Vainly, he tried to imagine himself where he should be this night, after having dutifully scouted all day and most of the night before that, too. He tried to will himself to well-deserved, well-earned com
fort in a warm, dry tent, possibly with a couple or three nice saddle blankets on which to curl up. Once or twice, he could almost seem to feel the solid comfort of his reveries, but each time he was cruelly distracted. Once, a stronger gust of wet lashed in upon him. The second distraction came in the guise of an especially loud and protracted splashing down in the stream, followed immediately by the scream of a man in pain and an excited babble of shouts.

  Chief Whitetip decided that this particular gaggle of twolegs were clearly far less rational than most others of their inherently irrational species. To willingly splash about and immerse their bodies in cold water on a hot, sunny day were a silly enough thing to do, but to do so of a distinctly chilly, almost moonless night . . . such clearly retarded twolegs should not be allowed out without a keeper.

  * * *

  Both Bili and Rahksahnah were young, neither yet twenty years of age. Moreover they were deeply in love and mutually reveled in the intense joy that their two vibrant bodies were capable of bringing each other. So, despite the long, saddle-weary day’s march, despite his hours in attendance upon King Mabrtuhn, despite the late-night conference with his officers, when at long last Bili and Rahksahnah sought their blankets, they made gentle, unhurried love, then fell soundly asleep still wrapped in each other’s embrace, all of their youthful passion spent, for the nonce.

  It was not yet dawn, however, when Rahksahnah awakened to the feel of life moving within her body. Bili had no idea of her condition, else he never would have allowed her to ride out on this present campaign. Only Rahksahnah and Pah-Elmuh, the Kleesahk, held the sure knowledge, and she had pledged him to silence. Her reasoning made sense — to her; she had strong presentiments that she had not very long to live and she wished to spend every possible moment of what little life she had remaining by her Bili’s side. That by riding out to war she was risking her life as well as those two new ones that the huge humanoid-physician had been able to recognize within her womb did not seem in any way contradictory to her.