by N. C. Reed
A sullen and angry Winnie didn't reply, but merely tried to stare Case down, glaring at him with her arms crossed.
“Nothing to say? Then I'd suggest you do something about your clothing,” he looked her over from head to toe. “Buckskin is known to shrink as it dries and yours is drying.”
It took her almost a full ten seconds to realize what he was saying. Looking down at her rapidly drying buckskin pants and shirt, she realized that it was skin tight and showing enough that she might as well still be naked.
She managed to maintain her dignity, what was left of it anyway, as she stomped her way across the campsite to her carriage to change. She pretended not to notice the way the other members of the train were looking at her after what she had just done.
Case looked up at the sky to ask again why him and was rewarded with another raindrop, this one right in the eye.
“Right.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
-
Therron was almost beside himself. The young lieutenant in charge of his escort seemed to be in no real hurry to reach their destination. Each night they halted in designated areas complete with small huts and even a caretaker! While Therron could appreciate the comfort, the time lost was killing his soul and possibly his chance at the throne. Three days of travel had seen them cover less than fifty miles.
“Lieutenant... Stanley wasn't it?” Therron tried tact. “There are at least two hours of good light left for us to travel by. Surely, we should take advantage of that, no?”
“Protocol says we stop here overnight, sir,” Stanley was adamant. “So, we stop here. There's no real good place to make a cold camp further along and we'd never reach the next station before full dark. So, we stop here. We won't risk the horses or my men along these trails after dark, sir.”
“Look here, Lieutenant,” Therron tried sterner tactics. “I am Crown Prince Therron McLeod of Soulan! It is urgent that I reach your governor as soon as possible, and I can't do that stopping every fifteen miles to make camp! Now I insist that we press on!”
“Protocol says we stop here, sir,” Stanley would not be swayed. “So, we stop here.”
Almost apoplectic at this point, Therron realized he was getting nowhere and gave up. This man, Stanley, clearly had no initiative of his own whatsoever.
While he would spend the night in relative comfort, Therron would pass it in misery.
-
“So, gentlemen, what do you think?” Wilson asked, having laid out the situation before his six commanders.
“What happened to wait them out, sir?” Darrell Thomas, commander of 3rd Corps asked.
“Nothing at all,” Wilson replied. “This has nothing to do with the general war effort but rather what to do about this situation to the west of our position. There is something out there, a force powerful enough to completely wipe out two Imperial infantry divisions. Now, either the enemy is making a move, or else there is something else out there they don't want us to see. I am asking for your suggestions on just what we should do about it?”
“Isn't Stone back yet?” Joel Vanhoose, commander of 2nd Corps asked. “Why not send him out there? Be much quicker than having infantry do it.”
“I hope to get at least part of his command back in the next few days, but... Stone's raid into the central high country was of limited success. While he and his men did sack and burn much of the Southern Capital, his force has suffered almost fifty percent casualties. Many of those are from eating bad beef and they will in time recover and hopefully return to duty, but in the meanwhile his forces, what remains able to take the field, may not be sufficient.” That information was met with several seconds of stunned silence.
“Could we wait and see how much of his force we can use before making a move?” Abe Springfield, Commander of 5th Corps was the first to speak. “Using the cavalry to screen our infantry movements would possibly prevent any more of these disasters, at least. If there is something out there then we find it, screen our movements with cavalry until we're set, and then we engage them on our terms, not theirs.”
“That is one possibility that I'm considering,” Wilson nodded. “With a sizable enough cavalry force, an infantry Corps in support would or should be able to meet and suppress any threat that can be out there.”
“This is all assuming anything at all is out there,” Peter Venable, commander of 1st Corps spoke up. Venable had been promoted after Milton Fairmount, a long-time friend of Wilson's had been killed in action not many weeks ago. He was a smart and able commander, but he had the tact of an elephant.
“Is it not more likely that these two divisions fell victim to southern cavalry?” he asked, walking to the map and circling the area in question. “Without our own cavalry to screen our flanks, we don't really know what might or might not be here. It's entirely possible that a large force of Soulanie cavalry happened upon two isolated and unsupported infantry divisions and... cut them to pieces,” he said the last part a bit lower. “If the force were large enough, say as large as Stone's force was for his raid, then destroying a lone infantry division would be well within their capabilities.”
“Your point?” Vanhoose asked.
“That is my point,” Venable replied. “If it was Soulanie cavalry then for all we know they're back in their tents sleeping tonight behind enemy lines. Hell, for that matter they could be sleeping behind our lines and we'd never know it. I'm just suggesting we don't throw good money after bad by sending still more unsupported troops to the west. If you want this... Unity, so badly, then send an entire infantry corps out to seize and hold it. Wait for whatever cavalry we get back from Stone to give us at least some screening element and then we just go and take it. Fortify it and dare them to come and take it away from us.”
Murmurs of agreement ran through the room and Wilson was nodding as well. He liked this idea.
“Very well, General Venable,” Wilson said. “I will assign 1st Corp to take and hold this village. You will have three days to prepare your men and their gear. The Quartermaster Corps will see to it you have provisions enough for three weeks with you and we will plan to resupply after two weeks. You will move out as soon as we can get you a rested and ready force of cavalry sufficient in size to screen your movements. Once your preparations are complete, you will hold your men ready to march on one hour's notice, but they may stand down after two o'clock each afternoon. They will also be excused watch detail during that time. Brigadier Sterling will deliver your written orders tomorrow.”
“Yes sir,” Venable nodded, returning to his seat. He didn't look pleased, upset, satisfied or angry or anything else. Venable simply looked as if he were prepared to do his duty.
“With 1st Corps coming off the line in the morning we will be shifting the rest of the line west to maintain our anchor on the river. That will mean opening the gaps between the corps slightly because I do not want to reduce the front in length. This will mean widening the distance between regiments to cover more ground. This should not cause a difficulty since we are already squeezed in tightly, but I also do not want to commit our reserve to the line. We need a force ready to fill any hole in case of attack or else to launch a counter attack should the opportunity arise. Questions?” No one spoke.
“Orders will be forthcoming tomorrow afternoon for new positioning. If you have any relevant points to add to it, bring them to me at that time. If there are no questions, gentlemen, then we are adjourned.”
-
“Sir,” Sterling began once everyone was gone, but Wilson held up a hand to forestall his comment.
“I know. Not what I had planned. Still, this may work to my advantage.”
“How so, if I may ask, sir?” Sterling looked puzzled.
“What will the Soulan Army do when an entire corps of infantry is seen marching off to the west, escorted by a cavalry screen?” Wilson asked.
“They will undoubtedly attempt to... I see,” Sterling caught on.
“Good. Not a word, mind you,” Wilso
n warned. “I want even our own people to be surprised. We may be on the verge of getting this war over with sooner than we thought.”
“Yes sir.”
-
“I could get used to this,” Parno said as Stephanie lay collapsed on top of him, their breathing more or less back to normal.
“Oh?” she asked teasingly.
“If it weren't for the war,” he nodded. “Being with you like this every night, waking up next to you every morning. Spending every day with you, all day, every day-”
“Okay, you're starting to sound creepy,” she laughed. “Besides, even if we were at home we'd still have work to do.”
“I know,” he grinned back. “And I couldn't have you following me around as I visit my favorite haunts.”
“Your haunting days are over, Prince,” Stephanie sounded amused. “Count on it.” She got up and went to take care of her ablutions and then returned.
“Harrel is almost well enough to transfer him to a regular hospital, but I'd much rather carry him back with me,” she told him.
“How long before he could make that trip?” he asked.
“Maybe two weeks. And it may be longer,” she admitted.
“I’ll give you the two weeks, but no more,” Parno said after a moment's thought. “I want the best for Harrel but... your being here is not safe. Edema's being here isn't safe. We could literally be attacked in the morning.”
“Do you think we will be?” she asked, frowning in concern.
“No, but I've been wrong before,” he shrugged. “I think they are up to something, but I don't know what. And I don't think they're ready to move just yet. Things just feel... off,” he struggled to explain.
“If Harrel can't make the trip at the end of the two weeks then I’ll have him moved to a regular hospital and we’ll go back,” she promised.
“Good.”
-
Brigadier Jerome Baxter mounted his horse, still sore from hard riding the day before. With any luck he and his command would be back to the main camp in three days, give or take. Better food and sleeping conditions than they had enjoyed in a long while.
“We're ready, sir,” an aide reported. Baxter nodded and raised his hand, then let it fall.
“Move out!”
His scouts were already out and roaming as were his flankers. He might well lose his entire command to the Soulan Army, but it wouldn't be because he didn't take precautions.
“Three more days,” he murmured. “That's all.”
-
Three days could seem like an eternity to some and go by in a blink for others.
For Therron McLeod, that three days would be hell. Stopping at every station regardless of time of day because 'protocol says we stop, so we stop' was about to drive him insane, but there was nothing he could do about it and his own marines were clearly not willing to complain about it. Nor were they acting very much like 'his' marines when it came to that.
The third day would see him arrive, finally, at the regimental headquarters only to learn that 'the Colonel is out' and would not be back for two days. Therron tried to bluster his way over the young Major who delivered this message, only to be told 'protocol demands that anyone sent to the Governor must have the Colonel's approval, so please, make yourself comfortable as our honored guest', so forth and so on.
Therron was all but certain he would lose his hair to worry before he reached the age of forty. He consoled himself with two bottles of wine that had a very good appeal and left him numb. 'His' marines looked at him, shook their heads, and cautiously made friends among the Coastal soldiers.
-
In the main Imperial camp, General Venable would be using his three days as expeditiously as he could to ready his men for the march ahead and the anticipated combat he might fight at the end of it. He drew his divisional commanders together and emphasized the threat along with their mission, and then they set about devising a strategy that ensured they had everything they could possibly need with them. Their own artillery battalion would accompany them, four catapults and four trebuchets, along with their own engineer battalion and their equipment.
Venable doubted very much if Wilson had intended him to take all of that, but he had said 'take your corps', and 1st Corps included those units and their gear. And, it was easier to get forgiven than to get permission. Three frantic days would be spent readying all of that equipment ready for travel.
Also necessary was the need to carry supplies enough for fifty thousand men, plus an estimated ten thousand horse soldiers. Wagons had to be loaded and placed in line of march, ready for horses to be hitched to them at literally a moment's notice for preparation to move out. Spare gear for any lost in combat, mobile forge and blacksmith equipment for repair of equipment and shoeing horses. Canvas for tent repairs, medical supplies for a major battle, the list was almost as long as the marching column would be, it seemed. Yet all this and more would be needed for such force to survive and to fight in a foreign land.
Something had destroyed two entire infantry divisions. Venable would not see one of his divisions suffer the same fate.
-
“Sir, I'm not arguing against your plan, but to take one sixth of the army, and the most experienced in some cases out of play-”
“Sterling, I've considered all of that,” Wilson held up a hand to stop further comment. “This is a gamble, but a gamble worth taking. Start preparing the orders.”
“Yes sir,” Sterling knew he was defeated and surrendered gracefully. Full of apprehension and dread at what his general was planning, he began drafting orders for the army.
-
“Poll the Regiment,” Parno ordered Karls over breakfast. “I need another escort force, identical to Stephanie's. We’ll need someone who can exercise an independent command.”
“For Lady Edema?” Karls asked.
“Yes, and Dhalia,” Parno nodded. “In fact, make Edema's escort large enough to detail a squadron to stay with Dhalia when Edema is traveling. Their only mission is to protect the two of them. Not the house, the grounds, the staff. Make sure that is understood.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Karls knew what Parno was thinking. Among the Black Sheep were all men he could trust absolutely. Soon, he would have Beaumont's command to send on the errands that Karls and the Sheep were doing now. That would allow him to allocate the men he trusted most with the missions most important to him.
Like protecting the only people that were important to him that couldn't protect themselves.
-
“The ferry is still there, sir, but no one appears to be around.”
Case nodded at the report, considering his options. Finally, he turned to the lieutenant immediately behind him.
“Fain, take one squad and investigate the ferry. Make sure it's safe to take the wagons down.”
“Yes sir,” the younger man nodded. “Second Squad, on me!” he called and started down the trail to the ferry crossing followed by eleven others. It seemed to take an age but was actually less than a half-hour before a single rider returned.
“Sir, Lieutenant Fain reports that the ferry is in place and operable. The caretaker's shack is still standing but doesn't appear to have seen any use in some time. The rope looks a bit dry but there is grease available at the shack. Old, but usable. The raft itself is solid sir. He believes we can cross with minimal difficulty.”
“Very well,” Case nodded. “Advise him we will be down shortly. Prepare the ferry and be ready to cross ahead of us and establish a beach head on the western bank.”
“Sir,” the man gave a brief field salute and raced back down the road. Case turned in his saddle and looked back down the line.
“Ferry is in working order!” he called. “We're heading down now! Pass the word!” The call was repeated down the small train as Case started his horse down the road. One at a time the wagons began rolling, teams straining to get the heavily loaded wagons moving.
Winnie was silent, havi
ng literally shown her ass the day before. Her chest was still sore where she had been struck by that lieutenant, whose name she had learned was Rucker. The man had not so much as looked her way since and Case had ignored her, but... she was sensing an underlying resentment now from the men of her escort, something she'd never felt before. Her behavior was slowly turning the men assigned to protect her against her.
Had she changed so much in so short of a time? Had she really become someone to be resented like that? It was definitely easy to do with everyone bowing and scraping to her because of Memmnon, but these men... King or no, they had their own pride and she was apparently trampling on it. She had overheard Rucker and two others last evening discussing asking to be transferred to a line combat unit upon their return to Nasil. Her face burned in shame to think that men who had worked hard to be assigned to a unit as prestigious as the King's Own would give that up to get away from her.
Her horse stopped and she realized with a start that she was on the ferry landing. The 'ferry' was actually just a large log raft joined with iron bands instead of mere rope. Side boards rose perhaps four feet on either side with the ends being eight-foot ramps that would be pulled up when not in use to serve a similar function.
The ferry was kept in place by a long, thick rope, the strands of which were also secured with iron bands. The rope ran through rings of iron secured on the posts of the right hand or 'starboard' side of the raft. Men would have to haul on the rope to pull the raft across the river. Another, similar rope was attached to the end of the ferry to allow it to be pulled across the river empty if necessary. It was slow and hazardous, but no less so than some of the ancient bridges, few of which were still standing and all of those that were could hardly be trusted with the weight of the wagons they were pulling.
“Captain Conway, you and Lieutenant Fain will board first platoon of First Company,” Case ordered. “Cross and establish a safe beach head. Lieutenant Rucker, your men will stand by to pull the ferry back across. Captain Conway and all of First Company will cross first and establish security, then we’ll start sending wagons across.”
