by Guy Antibes
“I’m not yet ready,” Boxster said. “My shoulder could stand it, but not my side.”
Trevor laughed. “Not you, but our company. Let’s see what they can do if the West Moretons flank us?”
After setting up the tents and digging latrines, Trevor gathered his sergeants and asked them to do an inventory. If the fighting came to them, Trevor wanted the men to know what to do. The company had a few injured master soldiers who were battle-tested. He included them in his meeting. He told them to conduct an inventory of the capabilities of the men, especially if they had any scouts or archers in their group.
After dinner, Trevor’s leadership group met again. The inventory was complete. The full-time quartermasters couldn’t fight very well. Men who could fight had been left behind to guard the garrison. The injured fighters were classed into how much they could do.
“We will meet first thing in the morning,” Trevor said. “Boxster and I will have a few suggestions on how to reorder our company.”
Trevor and Boxster spent much of the night in Trevor’s tent, huddled over a too-small camp table.
“This is the best we can do,” Trevor said.
“Until our men face fighting. Then the best we can do will likely change.”
Just before dawn, Trevor assembled his sergeants and the master soldiers and went over the reassignments. “Whenever you have the time, put this battle order into play. We won’t be in the front line, but if our wagon train becomes the front line, I would prefer all to survive. We will practice arranging the wagons at midday when we stop for lunch. Any questions or comments?”
Trevor let a few reassignments change the mix of men, but he thought the changes to be minor, and Boxster concurred.
At noon, the order came down the line to stop in the road. There was a clearing up ahead, but it was too small for the entire army. Trevor nodded to his sergeants as they rearranged the wagons forming a square of sorts. Boxster laughingly called it a quartermaster fort as the men went to their stations within the enclosure. The process was smooth enough for the first time, and Trevor couldn’t see a need for a lot of improvement. They wouldn’t have much time for practice in any event.
When they stopped for the night, Trevor had them make another quartermaster fort. It went smoothly, but General Greenwood rode back to the wagons.
“What is this nonsense?” he asked.
“I want to give my men some protection in case we get caught in the fight. We are making an enclosure to protect those who aren’t proficient in defending themselves.”
The general turned red. “Are you accusing me of bringing injured men into battle?”
“No, sir,” Trevor said. “The men in the quartermasters who know how to fight well were left behind to guard the Garrison. I want to give my company a chance to fight the enemy and protect themselves.”
The general narrowed his eyes. “Make sure your company doesn’t shirk their other duties.” He wheeled his horse around and headed back up to the leading group.
It was time to get to work, and it seemed that after the general’s visit, everyone worked a little harder. That was fine with Trevor if they were working harder because the general doubted them. He wasn’t going to ask any of his sergeants, but they might come to him with their observations. Boxster just nodded approvingly after the general left.
The next day, they arrived at the site of the battle that had proved so costly to the Presidonians. Boxster pointed out where the West Moreton troops had been placed. In Trevor’s mind, it had been an ambush, pure and simple, or at the least, the West Moretons had initiated the battle in the style of a trap.
Boxster rode ahead to talk to a few of the sergeants whom he had met on the two patrols he had gone on. He returned not long after he left.
“The general has scouts out?”
Boxster nodded. “He learns from others’ mistakes. He is rotating the scouts, so they aren’t out for very long, but that gives him a quicker warning something is wrong if a scout doesn’t turn up.”
“I didn’t read that technique in the scouting journal,” Trevor said.
Boxster shrugged. “I wonder if we shouldn’t send a couple of scouts on our own. The general is sending men ahead, but not to the sides.”
“We only have two spare horses,” Trevor said.
“What good are spare horses if we are attacked?” Boxster asked.
“If the general has his shot out from under him by an arrow, he will kick us out of the army if he doesn’t have a replacement mount.”
“Then I will give him mine. We always have the wagons to ride.”
Trevor mulled the scenario over in his mind. Trevor could give his horse up, as well, if it came to that.
“Then let’s do it and hope they don’t find anything. If they do, we may still be discharged by General Greenwood.”
“It’s up to you, Lieutenant Trevor Arcwin, sir,” Boxster said.
“Let’s go for it,” Trevor said.
Trevor and Boxster sent out two scouts that were still nursing injuries, but both could ride. The men were given specific instructions not to engage the enemy and urged not to linger at a camp or spend any time observing a marching army. Once contact was made, they were to return immediately.
The column continued snaking through the forest down the same road and left the previous battlefield miles behind.
Trevor noticed activity to his left and spotted a scout racing on foot through the forest. Trevor turned his horse in that direction and rode to the edge of the woods. He jumped off his horse and ran to the scout.
Three enemy soldiers had just about caught up to Trevor’s scout when he let the scout pass him and jumped from behind a tree to confront the three West Moreton soldiers. The men slid to a stop on the leafy forest floor and grouped with their swords pointing to Trevor.
“You think your armor will save you?” one of the men said.
Trevor drew his Jarkanese sword.
“The officer has a stinger, but there must be a reason he is in the back of the army,” another soldier said.
“Then come and be stung,” Trevor said. Boxster couldn’t come to his rescue. This was a task he had to complete on his own. “Where are your handlers?” he asked.
“Handlers?” one of the three asked.
“You are your officers’ dogs. Where are the officers?”
The man who had just asked, attacked Trevor. The fight was short and devastating as Trevor struck the man down.
“Next? Answer my question. I’ve finished one of you off. Tell me, if you wish to live, where is the army where your officers hide in comfort while you do their work?”
“We won’t tell you,” one of the two remaining attackers said.
“Then, there is no reason to allow you to live.”
The two men looked at Trevor with slack jaws. “How can you be so bold?”
“Because I am an excellent swordsman. Information or your lives, which is it?”
“The army is a few miles to the east. That is all I’ll tell you.” The man turned and ran off into the woods, followed instantly by the other.
Trevor looked at the dead soldier and kicked a few leaves over the body. He had to get back to his company, or he’d be getting a few months of confinement for abandoning his command.
The column had moved out of sight, but Boxster sat on his horse, holding the reins of Trevor’s mount.
“I figured you’d be back. Time to catch up. Did you learn anything?”
“The West Moreton army is a few miles to the east, but I wouldn’t believe what the men said at the point of my sword. As soon as one of them said it, they scampered away like frightened chickens.”
Boxster chuckled. “They could be right. We can give the information to the general if you wish, sir.”
“Couched as a lead?”
“Not necessarily,” Boxster said. “Our scout did more than pick up three men chasing him.
Trevor galloped ahead of Boxster, who rode more slo
wly to preserve his strength and the stitches in his side. The scout rode at the very back, sitting at the end of the last wagon.
“What did you see?” Trevor asked.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it back,” the scout said.
“Three aren’t enough to stop me unless one or more of them is an archer.”
“Their army is traveling on a road parallel to this one some miles to the east,” the scout said.
Trevor raised his eyebrows. “You saw them?”
“From a distance, then I came here. Those three outriders caught me, and when we reached the forest, it was too thick for the horse, so I abandoned it and started running. I didn’t think they would do the same thing. I almost made it.”
“You got close enough,” Trevor said, patting the man on the shoulder. He took a deep breath. “Now I have to report to the general.”
“He’ll be happy to know,” the scout said.
“I wish,” Trevor said.
He began traveling up the column of men until he reached the front where General Greenwood rode with his senior officers.
“One of my men spotted the enemy, sir,” Trevor said.
“One of your men? I was unaware you had any scouting responsibilities.”
Trevor cleared his throat. “I didn’t want my men to be flanked, sir, so I sent a man to either side. The enemy is traveling on a road parallel to this one, a few miles to the east.”
“There is a road that does travel north to south,” one of the officers said. He pulled out a map. “They would attack us at the crossroads here,” The man handed the map to the general, who pulled his mount off the road to let the column pass.
The general pulled out a reading glass and examined the map. “How reliable is this information?”
“The scout has done it before. He was one of the injured men, a gash on his sword arm put him out of commission. You assigned him to my unit.”
The general nodded. “Get two scouts to verify the placement of the West Moreton army.”
“They do have outriders, sir. My scout was on one of the spare horses and had to leave it once the forest got too thick. There were three of the enemy, but two got away.”
“Doesn’t matter,” General Greenwood said. “I’ll bet they are moving fast to set up an ambush at the crossroads. That is where I would attack them. I will act on your information, Lieutenant, but you will pay for losing a horse.”
“It was worth the risk, sir.”
Greenwood frowned. “I’m not so sure. Head back to your unit.”
Trevor heard one of the men say as he left, “The prince certainly has a head on his shoulders.”
“Until it is lopped off,” Greenwood said.
Trevor was too far away to hear any more.
Chapter Fifteen
~
T he Presidonians reached the crossroads first, but Trevor and Boxster weren’t privy to the strategy the general wanted to employ. They were left at the tail end of the column, barely within sight of the crossroad. The column had stopped, so Trevor had his men create a quartermaster fort.
Six men strolled to the wagons. “We were ordered to fight with you,” the leader said. Trevor had met him but had forgotten his name. The man was a master archer and led the squad.
“You may position yourselves anywhere you wish,” Trevor said, “inside or outside the wagons.”
“No orders for us?” the master archer said, looking surprised.
“Your orders are to arrange your men to the best strategic positions in case we are attacked, which will likely be from the east. I’m unfamiliar with tactics for six archers defending a stationary position.”
The man looked around. “It is stationary, isn’t it? The horses go inside?”
“We haven’t done that yet.” And Trevor had forgotten to give the order for the drivers. “When we are surer we are under attack, we can move out more quickly if the animals are hitched up and ready to go.”
“Very well, sir. I will get the men positioned. They will fall back into the circle if circumstances allow.”
“I leave it to your judgment.”
The master archer saluted. “As you say, sir.” The man left to confer with his men.
Boxster nudged his horse a little closer to Trevor. “That was quick thinking on your part, Lieutenant Trevor Arcwin, sir.”
“Do you think I made a mistake giving him the freedom to place his men?”
“Not at all. I don’t think you know much about archery in battle, not that we needed to do much strategizing on our first two patrols,” Boxster said.
“My thinking exactly. I have more studying to do when we return.”
“We both do,” Boxster said with a smirk, “sir.”
They waited until dusk when one of their scouts ran into the wagon circle. The horses had been moved inside long ago.
“A column is headed this way. It isn’t the main force, and there aren’t any mounted men.”
“Numbers?”
The scout shrugged. “Less than one hundred, I think.”
“One hundred!” one of the true quartermasters said.
“And there are twenty-two of us,” another said.
“Twenty-eight, counting the archers,” Trevor said. He turned to the scout. “Tell the officers up ahead and then return. I wouldn’t mind reinforcements. You can say that, but don’t expect your request to be honored.
“If they don’t run away,” the first man said.
“We stand a chance this time,” Trevor said. “If we weren’t prepared, we would have been even more exposed.”
Trevor waited as darkness descended on the road. There were no torches among the trees. The column didn’t show up, but he could hear the clash of arms just up the road as lights began to sprout like fireflies in the darkness.
“Boxster, can you handle the quartermasters? I’m afraid the enemy column shifted to the south and left us alone.”
“I can do that.”
Trevor selected seven men to accompany him, and they headed south on foot to join in the fight. They closed with the enemy after a little more than one hundred paces and ended up being flankers. The column they had been expecting had attacked the rear of the Presidonian fighting force.
The West Moreton soldiers kept their attention on the main force while Trevor waded into the fight and found the effort too easy. The attackers finally realized that they were being decimated from the rear. By that time, the flanking West Moreton column had been destroyed. Trevor moved to the north side of the road that ran East to West and harried the West Moreton forces from the edge of the road.
The fighting intensified as they reached the officer corps. General Greenwood was in the thick of it, and it looked like it was only a matter of time before the enemy cut him down. Trevor found a West Moreton horse that had lost its rider to Trevor’s sword. He realized that this situation wasn’t much different from the mounted melee he had trained for in the spring.
Trevor felt the rhythm he always achieved when he fought in the melee as he drove through the fighting to stop at the general’s side and drive off a gaggle of enemy soldiers.
The general glanced at Trevor. The torchlit fighting couldn’t have given the man much time to recognize his savior. Trevor moved around the general, cleaning out the attackers as a few of the general’s officers were able to bring more men to bear.
The fighting wore on, but the tide was with the Presidonians this time, and the West Moreton army was the force that had to slink away, much diminished, by Trevor’s estimation. He rode back to the wagons in time to help the quartermasters fend off remnants of the West Moreton army. The archers took positions in the woods, and with torches lighting up the scene, they were able to pick the enemy apart.
Suddenly the forest grew silent except for the moaning of wounded men. Trevor’s men called out to each other to see if everyone survived. Trevor posted sentries in case the enemy counterattacked, but nothing happened.
Dawn b
rought the grisly scene to life. The quartermasters had lost three men, but the archers came through unscathed. Four of the men Trevor had brought with him to the primary fight returned with the morning’s light. Trevor rode through the litter of battle. Men still cried out for aid, but order was well on its way.
The general received Trevor’s report with grace. “It could have been much worse for you if that column hadn’t moved south to flank us. You took care of them too.”
“I was successful because they had their attention on you, sir.”
“Why did you ride all the way to save me?”
Trevor smiled. “I am the best swordsman you have. I couldn’t let my talents go to waste. It appeared you needed help. Once you didn’t, I headed back to my men.”
“We got the better of them this time, but we are still too few to drive them out. I will request reinforcements from Tarviston and make a campaign of driving the West Moreton army out of Presidon once and for all.”
Trevor doubted the West Moretons would be driven out once and for all no matter what General Greenwood thought, but as Trevor headed back to his command, he couldn’t help but smile. The general hadn’t criticized him at all. Perhaps progress was possible in this world, he thought.
~
“As aggressive as you are, Lieutenant, we are sending you with a small group to harry the West Moretons, so they will continue to leave our country.”
“What is a small group, sir?” Trevor asked.
“Two squads. About the size of your second expedition. You will be able to stay in villages and towns if the circumstances permit.”
“Can I get Sergeant Boxster to come? He still can’t fight, but he is an outstanding strategist at small scale conflict, sir.”
“As are you,” the general said. “I don’t want you fighting all the battles. Officers fight alongside their men, but they do that to increase morale not to produce a higher body count. I expect you to return.”
“Thank you, sir. I will make every effort to do so. Is that all?”
“No. I will give you two scouts, and I will want you to document your travels on this map.” General Greenwood slid a new-looking map across his desk. “You will start where we fought, find the West Moreton forces, and follow them. Harry them only if necessary, but don’t engage their army.”
