by Jo Walton
“When we find them it’ll be clear,” said Osvran. “We can’t just do nothing, and we have to be somewhere defensible or keep moving. Any other problems?” He glanced at us all. His expression was perfectly natural when he looked at me, which was a relief. Nobody mentioned any other problems. As soon as we could ride we made for Caer Lind.
I did not have long to see that strange deserted town that day. Osvran had an urgent need for information. The broken gates hung open, parts of the walls were crumbling. Inside the streets of the fort were laid out on the pattern the Vincans built from the Desert to the Ice. But they were cluttered with Jarnish buildings of wood and mud thatched with straw built into the old house walls. Grass grew among the cobbles of the streets.
“I think they left because they couldn’t stand the smell,” murmured Geiran. The smell was notably bad, worse than a midsummer midden.
Osvran called us together in the gatehouse. He had hoisted the golden-tree banner of the ala, and the green-and-red flag of the High Kingdom of Tir Tanagiri. He was just sending out messengers back to Borthas, a day and a half’s ride away at Caer Avroc, and also to Urdo at Caer Tanaga, six or seven days away at best. He marked out clear routes on the maps for the pennons he was sending out. We had orders to send back a messenger every two hours, and to be back by sunset, and to return without engaging any Jarns we found in force. If we found any farmers we were to find out as much from them as we could. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but they’re up to something,” Osvran said. “Be back by sunset, but take overnight supplies in case. And drink from the river. The wells in this fortress are poisoned, so it makes sense to think they all are. You know how to patrol, you’ve done enough of it. But don’t engage. Find out where they are, and get back to tell me so we can fight them. If we can find them and make them fight, we’ll beat them.”
14
TABLE OF ALA ORGANIZATION
(with supplies to move five days and 250 miles and fight on arrival)
Praefecto
(in command, field tactics and leadership)
Tribuno
(second in command, also in charge of logistics issues, with Quartermaster)
Six pennons.
Each pennon consists of:
COMBATANTS:
one commander (decurio, tribuno, or praefecto)
twenty-four armigers
one sequifer (carries the rally banner)
one signifer (carries the charge banner)
one signaler/trumpeter
PEOPLE 28 GREATHORSES 60 RIDING HORSES 30
NON-COMBATANTS:
one cook
two assistant cooks
ten grooms
thirteen quartermaster auxiliaries
(to see to packhorses and supplies)
PEOPLE 26 RIDING HORSES 26 PACKHORSES 138
Quartermaster’s Command
Quartermaster
(in charge of supply and coordination)
10 messengers
20 scouts
1 trumpeter
1 signaler
1 doctor
2 doctor’s assistants
1 horse doctor
2 horse doctor assistants
1 farrier
2 farrier assistants
2 clerks
PEOPLE 44 RIDING HORSES 74 PACKHORSES 216
TOTAL
COMBATANTS: 168
NON-COMBATANTS: 200
GREATHORSES: 360
RIDING HORSES: 590
PACKHORSES: 1,044
That day we found nothing. More empty villages with no sign of human life anywhere. We slept uneasily at Caer Lind. The next day we stayed in the fortress while the other three pennons took their turn patrolling. Osvran was getting worried. A message came from Borthas at sunset, saying he was in Caer Avroc, he still had no sight of the Jarns, and he would advance to join us with his army. “He leaves out more than he says,” said Osvran, unsatisfied. “But that is always his way.”
The third day I patrolled again, endlessly frustrated. In the afternoon a scout brought news there were Jarns in a nearby hamlet. She had seen movement from a distance. I sent the news back to Osvran. Almost as soon as I’d done so a messenger reached me from Rhodren, who was patrolling to my south. He’d heard the same news and wanted to investigate it. He’d also sent a message to Enid, patrolling to the west. If we all three converged we’d have enough force to confirm the sighting for Osvran and deal with it if necessary.
I was as ready to fight as he was. I led the pennon towards him, and together the half ala made for the settlement. The place was empty.
“If we started burning these places to the ground whenever we found one, that might persuade them to come out,” said Rhodren. I just shook my head.
“Remember what we’re fighting for, eh?” I said.
“Both your scouts saw something,” Enid said.
“Something’s wrong,” said Rhodren, suddenly. “I can feel it. Let’s get back to Caer Lind, fast. I think we’ve been stupid coming here. I think we’re being watched.” I gave the signals to Indeg, who was passing them on to the pennon. Rhodren and Enid did the same with their signalers.
“I feel it too,” said Enid. “Let’s get away from here.”
“I’ll lead,” Rhodren said, and turned to do so. Enid followed close behind. Fourth Pennon followed them down the muddy track that led away from the hamlet towards Caer Lind. I was trying to work out why they felt the sudden panic. I hadn’t felt anything.
Up ahead the trees were closer to the road. As we rounded a curve we saw a small force of Jarns standing blocking the way. These weren’t villagers. There couldn’t have been more than twenty of them. They had long shields and long axes and looked strong and determined. Now I had a bad feeling. Why were they here? Where had they come from? Blithely ignoring orders, Rhodren raised his charge banner and bore down on them. He didn’t even change horses, and I saw his sequifer moving off to the side, with the spare horses and the supplies, at a speed we had practiced but never needed in the field. We always picked our own ground. Sixth Pennon was copying him, and raising the charge banner, moving slightly to the side to have room to charge. They were mad. We’d never attacked with as little thought as this, or in a crowded space. It must have been the frustration coming out in a rush as they finally saw a target before them. I felt something of the same urge. In any case, I couldn’t possibly abandon them. Besides, I didn’t have time to stop and consider.
I gave the same signal, and charged in support. Bran raised the charge banner and led the charge. It was something we’d practiced many times. Geiran dashed off to the left, I charged at Bran’s shoulder and was there to snatch up the pennon banner from him almost as soon as the arrow struck his back and he fell.
They were all through the trees, and it was uncomfortable fighting. I gave the general rally signal at once, and Indeg trumpeted it out to all three pennons, but even so we were hard-pressed to fight our way out. The ranks of Jarns had stepped aside to reveal ropes strung between the trees. In the woods, abbatis of cut trees and crossed branches protected the archers. Rhodren and his front rank had gone down almost at once. The heartrending screams of the broken-legged horses went on and on.
If their archers had held their fire slightly longer they would have had us all in that first moment. It is surprising how much of a battle is decided right at once. As it was it we couldn’t charge into the trees, but we could rally and fight our way back. Once we knew about the bowmen we kept our shields ready. All I could think was to keep moving, to use what we had, to get away. At last we cut our way out. We rallied again with the baggage train on a little hill a mile or so off.
Rhodren and Enid had fallen in the first seconds. Bran was dead. Of the three pennons that had been ambushed I had only slightly more than two pennons’ strength left. Very few of those left were primos, those who charge in the front rank. Most were dead, but some had been captured. Many of those with me were wounded. Garah was cutting an arrow
out of Masarn’s arm as I watched.
“Back to Caer Lind?” asked Geiran. “By a different route?” She managed a wan grin.
I was tempted to agree. But even though the fight had seemed only to take moments, it was growing dark. I turned to Garah. “Did they take any horses?”
“None of ours, not alive,” she said. “I didn’t see if they could have got any of the others. I don’t think so.”
“Then they’re not mobile, and we are. But they’re between us and the town. They didn’t come after us, but they know the land. We can move faster, but they can do that again anywhere they know of a place. I think we’d better wait for daylight.”
“Osvran will be frantic,” said Masarn, wincing as the arrow came out. It had gone all the way through.
“Would you like me to heal that?” I asked. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
“It depends how long we’re going to be out here fighting,” explained Garah. “It’ll heal better with time and exercise than with prayers, but much quicker with prayers.”
“I think I’ll go for quick,” he said. I laid the arrow on the wound and sang the charm with all my heart. When he was well I put him in charge of the other pennon—I kept what was left of Fourth Pennon, with other people filling the gaps. I organized the demoralized armigers so that they felt like a fighting force again. I did what I could for the other wounded, which was little enough. Few of them had the weapons that had inflicted the wounds. We settled down on the hilltop for a truly horrible night.
We had lost friends before, but we’d always been able to recover their bodies. We’d never let the Jarns take prisoners. What I remember clearest of that night is the screams. I didn’t know who made them, but I impotently cursed the whole race of Jarns until they stopped. I still knew no real curses. We stayed alert, and I at least slept very badly. I kept blaming myself and trying to see how I could have done it better.
We ate before dawn and mounted to set off as soon as there was light in the sky. Everywhere was eerily quiet. There was no sign of the Jarnsmen at all anywhere. They could have vanished back into the hollow hills. We kept outrunning our scouts out of a deep reluctance to stay in one place too long. We found our way back to Caer Lind with some difficulty and arrived there around noon, so far as one could judge in the rain. Then we saw what we had been looking for for days. A huge Jarnish army, four or five times the force we had beaten with Borthas, was gathered around the fortress of Caer Lind. Our banners were still flying. Osvran was still in there. But we had no way of getting to him.
The Jarns were drawn up in front of the fort in a way clearly designed to make it difficult for us to charge. They were on the higher ground, and there were very many of them. Also they had wagons set up as barriers all along one side, with troops in and among them, and along the other stood their best fighters, heavily armored. In the center stood their king, his arms wreathed with gold and a short red cloak falling from his shoulders and holding a long ax with murderous familiarity and intent. I had seen him use it in the first fight. His house lords were close around him. There there was no way to flank them. The flanks were in the forest, and we had learned our bitter lesson there. There was no way to Caer Lind except straight through them.
“Borthas’s troops should be here really soon,” muttered Geiran.
“Why am I not reassured?” answered another voice. It was Edlim, Rhodren’s sequifer. I’d given him my charge banner, with the full intention of taking it back if we had to charge. It seemed we would have to.
Suddenly, everything was very simple. Whether Borthas was coming or not was scarcely the point. I scanned the troops for a messenger. There was only Indeg, and I needed Indeg to give my signals.
“Garah, no arguments, ride for Caer Avroc and make sure the information about the situation gets to Urdo as well. If you have to go to Caer Tanaga yourself do it.” She opened her mouth to protest, but she didn’t argue, she just turned and did it. I saw her disappearing northwards as I talked it over with my surviving officers. The Jarns were laughing at us and banging on their shields.
“Well,” I said, as loudly as I could. I stood up in the stirrups so they could see me. It wasn’t a good beginning for a great rallying speech, and a great rallying speech was what they needed, for the faces on my troops were uncertain. We’d lost badly yesterday and had a miserable night. Losing wasn’t something we were used to. The Jarns were howling in rhythm to the banging now. At least it had stopped raining. “Well. You know what we’re here for, you know what we’re fighting for as well as I do. If we’re going to die, we’re going to die together, and there are much worse things. They’re barbarians, and they killed our friends. They don’t deserve Tir Tanagiri. They don’t even deserve Tevin, horrible place though it is. They deserve death, so let’s go and give it to them. We charge at the king. If we don’t take him out right away, we rally back here, be ready to signal, Geiran, and charge at him again really fast, and that will surprise them. Let’s avenge the fallen.”
I took the charge banner and made sure everyone was ready. The Jarns were ready, too, of course. I raised the banner, Indeg blew the trumpet, and we were off, at top speed. Apple led the way, going flat out as much as he could uphill. I was shouting something as my lance hit, great nonsense no doubt if one could hear it after, but it helped me then. We hit them with great force, but they were expecting it and stood like a wall of ice. I crossed swords with the king himself for a few brief blows. Then we turned smoothly, rallied, and made a second charge at the same place before they had time to prepare themselves again.
This time they broke, and we were almost through except that they brought up horsemen in the gap. Pony men I should say. They had been behind the wagons, Jarns on little hill ponies, laughable compared to our great horses but enough to cause confusion and plug the hole before we were through. Geiran raised the rally banner and we re-formed. I looked up at the city. I could not understand why Osvran didn’t sally out to help us, but presumably he had his own problems. The pony men followed us, and found out it is not easy to fight on horseback in the open when the other side knows what they’re about. Not one of the ones who came past their lines survived. I took down two myself, and Apple bowled over one pony and pulped the rider beneath his iron-shod hooves. He had blood right up to his fetlocks.
We re-formed back where we had begun. “Another charge?” panted Masarn. The horses were winded, too.
“Pull back a little and let’s think while the horses get their breath,” I said.
“They’re sending an embassy,” said Geiran. I looked. They were. Two of the sturdiest footmen who had been standing near the king were advancing towards us. They held green branches, the signal for a parley.
“Pick up a branch, and go forward and ask them what they want,” I told Indeg. “I won’t talk to them unless they’re serious.”
He came back quickly. “They say they come from Sweyn, King of Tevin and Emperor of Tir Tanagiri, and want to discuss surrender terms.”
“Ha. Tell them we accept their surrender if they give up their claims and leave the island now and forever.” I said. My blood was pounding in my ears, and I wanted to kill them all.
“I don’t think that’s what they mean, Sulien,” he said, very serious. Indeg rarely picked up on irony; Geiran and Bran were always teasing him.
“I know. Go and say it anyway. You’re a herald; they’ll know it’s me saying it really.”
Indeg returned again. “They say if we surrender now, they will grant us our lives as slaves; otherwise, they will kill us all.”
“How terribly tedious that would be,” said Geiran. “Sulien, I know I shouldn’t ask, but would you mind awfully if I charged this time? Edlim can take the rally banner, he’s a very good sequifer, and I haven’t even got my lance wet today.”
“We’ll all charge this time,” I said. “Tell them if that’s really the only choice, then we’ll take death, thank you very much, and they can be our honor guard to speak for
the worth of our sword arms in Death’s dark hall.”
Indeg went to deliver the message, not questioning it this time, nor even quibbling over theology. They returned to their lines. “Change horses, those who can. Masarn, take Beauty, he’s used to you, Apple has another charge left in him but Whitefoot is bleeding. Everyone here knows how to charge, even if you’re not all primos, this time everyone’s going to charge. Sequifers, quartermasters, grooms, cooks, everyone. This is what we practice for. Get on the best horses there are and dump all the gear. Be ready to follow my signal. What we’re going to do is charge straight at the king again, just like last time, and at the last minute wheel and make for the wagons. The troops there are nothing like as good, they’re the second-raters, they may well break. Then half of us—everyone on a tired horse and everyone who is not usually an armiger—is to get down and fight on foot. Armigers to protect, the others to move two wagons. The rest are to pull back and rally. Geiran, you be ready to lead that rally. Everybody make sure you know which half you are in right now. What those of us on feet must do is clear the wagons—fight and clear the wagons, so that when Geiran’s lot charge again they can get right through and hold them off while we make for the fort. I don’t need to explain how important it is. We have to make a gap. Geiran, as soon as there’s enough gap you lead the charge through. Then we mount up again and get through up to the fort. Now or never. Everyone ready? Anyone unsure?”
Nobody was unsure. We’d never practiced moving wagons, though we’d practiced turning at the charge and changing weapons. I tightened the straps on my wrists and made sure my sword was ready. I grinned at them, and they grinned back, bless them, and then we charged.
