Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1)

by James Tallett

  In a gesture that he thought rather intelligent, Jacob had set a flat standard of pay for all Uhlobo acting as servants, one he knew the enlisted men could meet on a weekly basis, even out here on the very edge of the Queen's lands. It could hardly be considered a generous wage, but then the Umkhovu could hardly be considered men, could they? They were most certainly an inferior race, but even inferiors deserved proper and honest treatment. That was the very foundation of society, that those on top by virtue of birth and merit owed a debt to the labour of the inferiors who kept them there.

  A noble-born certainly had more value to society than a peasant in a field, but if that peasant was willing to take up arms to defend Queen and country, the noble must respect and honour that. Certainly, no matter how vast the nobility, they could not defend themselves or their lands without the help of the lowly born. Likewise, it was the duty of the noble to ensure that in times of famine, none of those who worked his land starved. His lessers owed him fealty and loyalty, and in return he owed them other matters, such as food and employment. And thus Jacob provided for all the Umkhovu.

  Plus, he was hardly stingy when it came to their food rations. They ate as well as the enlisted men, an order that had elicited no small amount of grumbling from the quartermaster when the officer was informed of it. On the whole, the presence of the Umkhovu had increased the burden on the regiment's coffers, but exclusive to nobles as it was, the Lifeguards could easily afford the added expense. An expense entirely justified when Jacob thought of all the creature comforts that were now available. What a joy it was to have a proper butler, even if the butler was not a patch on the one at the family estates.

  Lost in his memories of home, Jacob did not see Fredericks as the enlisted man ducked into the tent and saluted. It was only when a polite cough issued forth that the officer came back to himself.

  By the look on Fredericks face, Jacob already knew the news. “Those bloody tree-living apes have attacked another farmstead, haven’t they?”

  “A fair bit worse than that sir. They attacked six.”

  “Casualties?”

  “We know of three survivors. Darren has sent patrols in force to each location.”

  Darren was the commander of his subsidiary regiment, the 1st Royal Dragoons. As a heavy cavalry unit, they were a nightmare to keep supplied, but their capabilities on the field of battle were most impressive.

  “Good. It is his week in the duty rotation. Inform me when his patrols return. If this keeps up, we'll have to engage in some serious reprisals.”

  “Shall I prepare a message to go to Colonel Sherman in New Town?”

  Still officially not named, New Town was sobriquet that had been attached to what was once only a series of basic docks. Now, it was the administrative headquarters of the colony project.

  “A preliminary one. I'll write a final statement on the matter when all is said and done.”

  “Very well sir, I'll gather what information I can.”

  Fredericks turned to go, when Jacob raised a hand to forestall the departure. “Speak to Umholi and the rest of his clan. They will either have information on why this is happening, or how to find the creatures if reprisals become necessary.”

  “Right you are, sir.”

  With that, Fredericks disappeared, leaving Jacob to his contemplation. The arboreals had never attacked six at once before. Which suggested that they had acquired both greater numbers and more coordination. Neither of which was a comforting thought, given his location on the frontier. The supply road that ran in a straight shot from here to New Town was narrow, and only covered in split logs. Plus, given the length of it, ambushes and disruptions along the way would be easy to achieve. He would have to include a note about doubling or tripling the guard on the supply caravans. Thomason would hardly be pleased about that.

  Midway through his writing of the report, Fredericks returned, Joyce and Umholi in tow.

  “Well? I trust you understand why you are summoned.”

  “Yes sir.” Joyce and Umholi both saluted, but it was Umholi alone who continued. “You have attacked the forests, attacked their land. A year ago, you swore that no one owned the land. To you, it meant no one owned it, and thus was free for the taking. To them, it meant that everyone owned it, and harming it was an attack on all their people. They gave you time to change your ways, but now stand in judgement. A judgement that is clearly not to your tastes.”

  “They are judging us for behaving as civilized men, who understand property and ownership and laws, while they run naked through a jungle. Very well, we'll have to kill them all. Or enough of them that they cower should a true man approach. Joyce, inform Darren I'll be taking the Lifeguards on a punitive expedition, and that he is the commander until I return. Fredericks, inform the Lifeguards. We'll move tomorrow morning.”

  “How many rations, sir?”

  “Supply train for a month.”

  “Cannon?”

  “No, they'll be too unwieldy in the forest. Do issue the volley guns and blunderbusses though. There will be close work, of that I am sure.”

  “Very well sir. I'll inform the men.”

  Volley guns were seven-barrelled weapons that could be fired from the shoulder. Difficult to handle, they did have the admirable effect of stopping charges dead. Most often literally. Blunderbusses meanwhile fired a cloud of small metal shards. The range was shorter, but the weapon more manageable. The combination would certainly give the natives pause.

  Umholi waited until Joyce and Fredericks had departed before speaking again.

  “Sir, this is most likely a poor idea, chasing into the woods after them. There are stories of ghosts and other creatures who live with them. We never ventured into their trees without an escort for fear of the tales.”

  “Umholi, if you believe that the men of the Lifeguards are going to be put off by a smattering of ghost stories and some incompetent archers, you have sadly underestimated our capabilities.”

  “No, no, not that sir. I'm simply asking that you not underestimate them. They've held those forests for as long as we have stories. They must have something beyond their bows to do so.”

  “Well, given their only neighbours so far appear to be the Umkhovu, who are quite comfortable on the plains, they appear to have faced almost no pressure.”

  Umholi sighed. “You are right. My people are not warlike, not if we can avoid it. We prefer trade.”

  “A statement I heartily agree with. I much prefer trade myself. Although it is less noble than soldiering, it does have the added benefit of avoiding being shot at.” Jacob paused. “On a more informal note, I must admit to being surprised as to how well the Umkhovu have taken to civilization. It seems to suit you quite well.”

  “Thank you, sir. It has been a change, but one we have coped with appropriately, I believe.”

  Jacob smiled. “I do believe that if I put you behind a curtain, so that no one could see the form of the speaker, you could pass for a noble-born. Your elocution is excellent. Sadly, the other tribe of Umkhovu, down with Matthias, remain problematic. They just can't seem to overcome their predilection towards mischief.”

  “Perhaps they need a better chief.”

  “Quite right, quite right. On that note, you have certainly smoothed our time in these lands, despite our rather unfortunate introduction to one another. I do hope any hard feelings from that have passed.”

  “It is of no matter, sir. We Uhlobo recognize the new world in which we live.”

  “Very wise of you. Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to this blasted report. Oh, and do bring tea at the fourth bell.”

  “Understood, sir.” Umholi bowed and withdrew, his expression not entirely happy.

  ***

  As expected, the Lifeguards were standing in parade ground formation as the sun crested the distant horizon. Jacob gave them only a brief inspection, enough to satisfy the men's honour, and then ordered the march. They were to head towards the nearest arm of the forest, a
nd there begin their reprisal.

  It was an auspicious day for a campaign to start, all bright sunshine and pleasant temperatures. The men themselves were in a cheerful mood, happy to leave the confines of the fortress and strike back at those barbaric natives. Very few patrols had been able to respond to incidents before their conclusion, and the ineffectiveness of their actions had fouled the morale of the soldiers. But now that the whole regiment was on its way, they were all smiles and cheers.

  As was Jacob, although he had the apprehension that always came with being a commander. After all, if matters went wrong, regardless of the cause, it would be laid squarely at his feet. But that was as it should be. To him came the honour and accolades, so to him accrued any dishonour and marks of shame. Not that he had much to worry about on that score. These were the Lifeguards, men hand-picked from the ranks of the nobility to protect the Queen's very person. Or to act as her representatives on the field of battle.

  Currently, the Queen was protected by the Household Cavalry, one of the three regiments sworn to her direct service. The Lifeguards were the second, with the Nightwatch Fusiliers holding the final position. Jacob was very glad he had never been posted to service with the Nightwatch. Their duty was to serve as shock troops for the Royal Army, and as such were staffed almost entirely with the sort of brutal, nasty men for whom civilization was little more than a thin veneer over their animal nature. However, they were well rewarded and exceedingly loyal, and had been named to their current position as one of the Queen's Own by her grandmother, after almost single-handedly carrying the day in the Battle of Westerloch. Still, they were such savages...

  Jacob stopped the shiver that ran down his spine, and put his thoughts back to rights. He had a duty to perform, and letting his thoughts drift in all different directions was hardly the appropriate response. Looking back, he saw the Lifeguards stretched out behind him, marching in two columns, each ten men wide, with the supply wagons drawn in the middle. In front was the vanguard, a full two hundred men, and likewise the same for the rearguard at the tail end of the convoy. As per standard practice, if anything untoward happened, the men would immediately link into a hollow square. It was a tactic that had never, not once, been broken.

  And there was absolutely no chance of the arboreal natives being able to do so. They had neither artillery, nor cavalry, and so could hardly apply the stratagems that modern military theorists had devised in order to counter the use of the square. They were a pathetic opponent, strengthened only by their refusal to indulge in combat anywhere they could not flee.

  As it was, the most recent of the attacks had focused on a cluster of farms only a day's march from the fortress, and so as the Lifeguards continued on, they passed by some of the elements of the 1st Royal Dragoons, returning from their attempted retaliation. Jacob had their commanding officer, a mere lieutenant, brought to his position.

  A table and chairs had been set into place by Inceku, and drinks were being served by the same Uhlobo. Jacob gestured for the lieutenant, Francis, to take a seat opposite.

  “You appear to have rather more troops than necessary to counter a few raids on farms, sir.”

  “I decided it was time that these natives were taught an appropriate lesson. A lesson that shall become entwined in their cultural history. Our settlers are inviolate, and they shall understand that in short order.”

  “Would it be possible for us to assist you? I'd love a crack at these daft blighters.”

  “I doubt it, Francis. We're going to chase them into the forests, and your heavy cavalry isn't suited for such terrain. Using you dismounted seems like rather a waste of talent.”

  “That it would be sir, that it would be. And the trees have such undergrowth, even you infantry fellows will find the going tough. The only way we'd make it through is to let the horses graze.”

  “I thought as much. Pity, as it would be nice to have some of you cavalry to chase the enemy after they break.”

  “Are you sure they will break?”

  “They are barbarians, barely competent with a bow. If they do anything but cower and flee at the first volley, I shall be most surprised.”

  “Just remember to keep your eyes on the trees, sir. We have had more than a few of those irritating creatures take shots at us from the canopy.”

  “Have no fear on that regard, that was the very first place they shot at us from when we arrived on these shores. It is a lesson we have not forgotten.”

  “Very good sir. Now, if you don't mind, the day is becoming rather late, and Darren will be expecting a full report before dinner.”

  “Carry on then.”

  Francis saluted as he stood. Jacob returned it, finished his glass, and then gestured for Inceku to clear the matter away. Crooking a finger, he called over the nearest of his officers, a gentleman called Alastair.

  “Send out two patrols. I want to find a secure place for a camp.”

  “Very well sir.”

  Alastair trotted off, leaving Jacob to command the rest of his forces into marching. They would make the very edge of the woods tonight, encamp, and then begin the second stage of Jacob's strategy.

  ***

  His morning repast finished, Jacob went to inspect the gun embrasures that had been constructed overnight. He had decided, upon further review, to bring his field artillery, but only as far as where they stood now. They would act as an excellent deterrent and support for this forward base. With them, he left a fifth of his infantry and a good deal of the civilians and Umkhovu, with strict orders to cut down and clear every tree within visible distance of the temporary fortifications. When he came back, he wanted to see nothing but a field of stumps from where he stood to the horizon. They needed the wood for structures, furniture, and the like, anyhow.

  “Upton, you'll take the vanguard. Alastair, rearguard. Tight formation, there's poor visibility in these woods.”

  Orders given, the other four fifths of the Lifeguards drove into the woods, bayonets fixed and shot loaded. They were following a rough sense of direction given by some of the Umkhovu, who recalled having seen arboreal structures in various locations in the forest. It was a faint hope to be engaged upon, but it was the best available.

  Colonel Sherman and his officers had informally decided to forgo scouting the forests, believing that it would come at too high a cost in human lives. And, Jacob admitted privately, they had not considered the natives to have enough backbone to fight back. After all, the Umkhovu had adapted quite nicely to human living conditions. Why would the other creatures be any different?

  Well, they had been. And now it was up to Jacob to show the arboreals the folly of ignoring civilization. Being culturally advanced had many benefits, but to Jacob, the one that mattered the most was gunpowder, a scientific advancement he was would take sore advantage of in the coming days and weeks.

  The first day ended with no sight of the natives, nor indeed of any large creature of any kind. Although as the Lifeguards were quite noisy, it was hardly surprising that animals stayed away. Jacob was, however, less sanguine about the lack of natives. Unfortunately, given their arboreal capabilities, it was quite likely that the Lifeguards had been spotted, and simply not seen their observer. Which meant there was a strong chance of being attacked at night. With that in mind, Jacob doubled the watch in the small clearing in which they were sleeping. He went to his rest with a feeling of trepidation, as if he had misunderstood something very important.

  ***

  Jacob was up before the rising sun, his meal being prepared by Umholi. Cook was back at the fortress, as bringing him on a campaign of this sort would be quite a waste of his talents. As it had turned out, Umholi had a decent talent for cookery, at least insofar as a breakfast fry up was considered. The scrambled eggs had the proper consistency, the toast was nicely browned but not blackened, and the black pudding was just right. All in all, a satisfactory way to start the morning.

  A head poked through the entrance to the tent.

&nbs
p; “Blast it, I'm having breakfast, what is it?”

  “Sir, you need to see this. Now.”

  That was not good, not good at all. Jacob grabbed his sword belt from the peg, and had it buckled by the time he was through the tent flaps. The private in question, the son of a city merchant ennobled for his business sense, pointed towards the trees that ringed the clearing. The regimental commander peered for a moment in the dawn light, then understood. There were arboreals in almost every tree visible. And all of them had bows strung.

  “Skirmish formation! Behind cover!”

  The sentries who were already fully kitted were the first to respond, but the sight of soldiers pouring from their tents with weapons at the ready within moments of his shout was most gratifying. Unfortunately, what met them was a hail of arrow fire, at a range that negated many of the advantages of the gunpowder muskets.

  “No volleys! Fire at will!”

  The crackle of muskets burst into life about the camp, followed by the crunch of the lead balls slamming into trees and flesh alike.

  “Umholi, find me a blasted musket. I'm not going to sit here and be shot at without firing back.”

  The Uhlobo chieftain scurried off in the direction of the supply depot, his low form disappearing amongst the tents.

  Around him, Jacob could hear the first cries of pain, slowly beginning to compete in volume with the whipcracks of the muskets. And then a bellow tore through the camp as the tree nearest Jacob disappeared behind a hail of flying splinters. When the debris cleared, the tree was still standing, but a limb that had held two arboreals had snapped, tumbling them to their deaths.

  The cause of this upheaval was Upton, holding a smoking volley gun and howling imprecations at the barbarians. He was an uncouth officer, but if he could handle a volley gun like that, at this precise moment he was entirely welcome to his little foibles.

  “Where is that blasted Umholi? My men are dying and I can't fight!”

  Being attacked from a raised position by creatures who fired faster than the human muskets had his force at a great disadvantage, and it was beginning to tell on their numbers. Most of those down were wounded, rather than dead, but it was sapping the morale of the men, despite their great courage. Raising his head from behind the barrel that provided his shield, Jacob could see arrows flying from all directions, although the trees were now pockmarked with bullet holes, and as much or more of the moans came from outside the camp as inside. The constant marksmanship competitions had paid off.