There were, in the distance, the scampering forms of one or two of the Forgotten Folk, but without their physically imposing overlords, they were little more than detritus, and so Jacob gave no orders to chase after them. Instead, he descended from his perch, a trudge on legs suddenly exhausted, his form all but quivering.
Halfway down, he paused.
“I want all surgeons set up there, and find them some helpers. Organize teams to catalogue and retrieve the dead and the wounded. Make sure the teams are heavily armed and have a messenger, in case any of those barbaric mounds are not as dead as they appear to be. Finally, tell the quartermaster he is to retrieve and restock all items of gear from deceased soldiers except uniforms, swords, and personal effects.”
A scamper of feet told Jacob his commands would be carried out. His duty on that front resolved, he strode through the camp, sharing a peaceful word here, a gesture of respect or a pat on the shoulder there. As he shared his fortitude, backs grew a little straighter, tired limbs grew less so, and men began to engage themselves more fully in their duties. It was gratifying to see such an effect take place amongst his men, and even more so when it occurred to those that he spoke to out in the killing fields, when they were surrounded by corpses of both friend and foe.
Here and there he recognized those he spoke to, but most men, covered in grime and blood as they were, would have been indistinguishable to their mothers, let alone their officers. Jacob made a mental note that he must requisition fresh uniforms, given the poor state of the laundry after such a battle. More properly, the quartermaster must do so, but it was Jacob's duty to inform the man.
At last his wanderings took him to a carcass of one of the Mountain Lords, and he peered up at it, for even in death, the creature was taller than Jacob himself at parade rest. Taller, and as unpleasant as it was huge, for the skin was a warty, lumpy conglomeration that took the form of rock, but without any of the natural beauty that stone possessed. The facial features were little more than crude drawings done by an artistically uninclined child, and the stench that wafted up Jacob's nostrils had nothing to do with the result of slaughter, and a great deal with having been so uncivilized as to have avoided bathing for years at a time.
Being that their corpses were so large, it would be impossible to remain at the site of the battle, for the pollution they would engender would be unthinkable. On the morrow, then, he would have to order the combined regiments to march for home.
Having inspected the battlefield and given the orders that he could, the regimental commander of the Queen's Lifeguards made his way to his tent, knowing that when he woke, he would be confronted by the deaths of men he considered friends. Best get to sleep before that happened and delay the nightmares by a day. Jacob lay down on his cot and fell asleep, dressed in full uniform.
***
It was morning when Jacob woke, having slept the night through. A glance around showed him what he had long understood – that a man's tent, provided it is not wrecked by the fighting, shows no sign of the outside world. Everything was in the proper place, and a light breakfast of cheese and cold meats was already set atop his table.
The noise of his rising was followed almost immediately by a rustle from the servant's quarters, followed shortly thereafter by the arrival of Umholi bearing a china tea service. It was all very civilized, and one could hardly tell that both men had been in a close run engagement the day before. Only the drooping expression on Umholi's face betrayed his debility, while the crumpled uniform of Jacob did the same for him.
“Have the casualty reports been assembled yet?”
Umholi indicated a single sheet of paper, tucked under the breakfast platter.
“The quartermaster's report has not been produced yet, nor has the surgeon's. They are both still engaged in the tasks set to them.”
“Very well, I shall leave them to the matter.”
Picking up the sheet, he glanced down it, then placed it carefully back on the table and looked at Umholi.
“Are these numbers correct?”
“For the Umkhovu, certainly. In other particulars, I could not say.”
Jacob retrieved the document once more, and gave it a more thorough perusal. One third of Clan Uhlobo, half of the 1st Royal Dragoons, and twenty percent of the Queen's Lifeguards, numbers that increased when applied to the officers, who had necessarily taken it upon themselves to lead their men by example. Two thirds of Clan Uhlobo officers and sergeants, sixty percent of the Queen's Lifeguards, and ninety percent of the 1st Royal Dragoons. A glance down at the names below those bald listings of fact showed the deceased, officers first, then non-commissioned officers, and finally enlisted men.
It was the officers of the Queen's Lifeguards that concerned him the most, for the list was topped by Alastair, Bricthon, and Theodore. All of his company commanders gone. Except Upton, the rebellious fool.
Another glance.
Darren's name topped the list for the 1st Royal Dragoons, as Jacob had been sure it would.
Crushing the paper in his hand, he threw it across the room.
Umholi spoke quietly. “Brave and noble men die, and cowards and fools carry ever onwards.”
The sole surviving regimental commander glanced towards his valet. “Quoting from someone?”
“A poet from your homeland, but the name escapes me. It seemed appropriate, given what is written on that report.”
“Entirely too appropriate. I am left with only one company commander out of the 1st Royal Dragoons and the Queen's Lifeguards combined, and he is by far the one I would have wished to pass onwards. Which leaves me in the irritating position of having to appoint him temporary commander of the 1st Royal Dragoons. You have also just earned yourself a promotion, Umholi.”
The Umhkovu glanced up from where he was dusting the chests that held Jacob's dress uniform and formal clothing. “I'm sorry sir, I do not follow your logic.”
“Clan Uhlobo, being at least unofficially constituted into a regiment in the Royal Army, is in need of a commanding officer, Alastair having had the poor grace to get killed when I was in need of his services. There are no officers in either the Queen's Lifeguards or the 1st Royal Dragoons who could be given said position, especially once necessary arrangements are made within those regiments. Which means promotion from within for the Umkhovu regiment. Thus, you are its new commander, and will have to rebuild a chain of command that was just torn to pieces. Given the magnitude of the task ahead of you, I believe you can leave the dusting to Isingane and Insikazi.”
“Ah, I see. I should begin, I take it.”
“Yes, you should, because we need to leave by midday. Inform all officers you see of that. And if you would consider my advisement in the matter of appropriate candidates for officers, I do believe Inceku and Isijula would be appropriate.” Jacob made the suggestions knowing full well that in his position as overall commander, they were less suggestions and more orders. And that he had just shattered a barrier never before broken in the Royal Army, recommending a female be appointed as a company commander. Of course, said history entirely ignored the existence of warrior queens and other female nobles and royalty, as their presence outside the proper command structure of the army made accounting for them impossible. Especially accounting for the warrior queen who had conquered the kingdom in the first place.
Pulling a piece of paper from his writing desk, Jacob jotted down a quick note reinforcing the orders he had given to Umholi. More specifically, the one regarding the order to be on the move by noon. This he provided to the messenger waiting at the entrance to his tent, and told him to distribute far and wide amongst the officers, regardless of their actual standing or status. That last because he knew the configuration of his officer corps was entirely ruined, and pieced together with little more than string and wishes. He could only hope that his enemies, such as were left, obliged him and his by ignoring them on the march home, as well as having ignored the fortress in the time he was gone.
Swallowing down the last piece of meat and cheese from the morning platter, Jacob disappeared through the tent flaps, his back regally straight, his face locked into the expression of an officer making the rounds.
***
The chair in which Jacob sat felt entirely uncomfortable, being different to the one that had served him so well on campaign. Indeed, all of the surroundings felt uncomfortable, for they stood still, rather than waving gently in the breeze as his prior accommodations had done. He was rather less thrilled at returning to a fortress in good order than he ought to have been, although that could be placed at least partially at the feet of the god of the Royal Army: paperwork.
Upon returning, he had been deluged by requests for reports by Colonel Sherman, reports updating him on the progress of the reinforcement fleet, personal inquiries from various family members attempting to attract glory to themselves by association, notifications from his father on various political and financial happenings that affected the family in some way, and, of course, all of the bureaucracy that applied to the death of so many men and officers.
Jacob had been forced to draft in some of the more highly skilled men as clerks, simply to ensure that all of the death notifications, medal requests, and honours and title declarations went out with the same supply wagon. By the end, he had no longer been able to read what passed beneath his pen, and had instead signed them as they were presented, trusting his staff to have seen to the matter appropriately.
The most pressing of all, and the one that he marked as Extremely Urgent, was the requests for reinforcements, both of soldiers and officers. Given the damage that had been sustained by the regiments, it was likely they would be recalled to the homeland and given time recruiting and recuperating. While the political pressure that would be placed to ensure the Queen's Lifeguards came home did not bear thinking of, given all the noble children that had perished under his watch.
The second most pressing, and the one that would cause the General Staff entirely too much consternation, was the matter of the Umkhovu regiment. Jacob had included all the material he had been able to on the matter, including signed eyewitness reports from any Lifeguard willing to put pen to ink. Given the copious quantities of nobles, both greater and lesser, that had agreed the Umkhovu had held off one end of a pincer movement gallantly and at high personal costs, he assumed that the matter would at least not be swept under the rug, but he was far too unversed in the political infighting that would take place to be able to determine the final outcome, and had informed Inceku, Umholi and the other leaders of Clan Uhlobo as much. Time would tell, on that front.
At last, the paperwork was complete, and the boxes containing it handed to the supply train for return to New Town. It was an armed caravan, for the arboreals, despite pacification efforts, continued to harass and otherwise impede the actions of the human colonists. Indeed, a good deal more hamlets and farms had disappeared into the night while the main body of his forces had been away.
It was that, as much as the casualty figures, that made Jacob sure he would be recalled in disgrace. He could attempt to claim a victory against the Mountain Lords, having slain every single one who had set foot against him, after that same conglomeration of natives had killed Richard and his two regiments. On the other hand, allowing three regiments to be crippled while fighting a foe only to return and discover most of the colonists had either been slain, fled, or were hiding in the fortress could hardly be called a successful outing.
Perhaps with the prestige of his father, he'd only be promoted sideways, given command of some regiment full of worthless conscripts and other scum of the earth whose deaths would not bother the General Staff and political leaders quite so much. Of course, much more likely was that he would be given some staff post back at home, one of those given to useless officers until such time as they are rehabilitated into active service or die of old age. Given the carnage Jacob had wrought, he expected to die of old age.
Bah. He swept aside all of the useless meanderings of the mind and went in search of drink. He could have rung the bell and had Inceku deliver it to him, but at this precise moment in time, remaining in his office was a penalty he was unwilling to pay.
As it turned out, he was only able to get a single whisky down his gullet before a messenger entered the officers’ mess.
“What is it?”
“The gate guards, sir, they're asking you.”
“Damn it man, if there's a supply caravan here, just inform the quartermaster. It's hardly something I need to take care of.”
The messenger quaked a bit, but remained firm. “No, sir, this is significantly above that level.”
Blast. Jacob shook his head, finished the dregs of his glass, and followed the messenger in his best parade ground strut. Whomever it was who had the temerity to intrude on his depression was about to receive a dressing down.
Soldiers parted for him as he ascended the stairs and took his place at the parapet, there to gaze onto a sight quite different from what he had expected. Stretching out before him in a solid mass that huddled against the walls of the fortress was an entire clan, if not two, of Umkhovu in their pitiful native state, poorly clothed, malnourished, and speaking that barbarous tongue. The stench of the unwashed crowd was overwhelming; if anything, it was worse than when his men had captured the Uhlobo.
“Someone find me Umholi. He and I are going to have to speak. And tell the rest of Clan Uhlobo they are going to have to create housing for their relatives. After giving each and every one of them a thorough bathing.”
Heads nodded up and down the parapet, some, Jacob noted, being Umkhovu. Civilization, once it is put on, is a heavy cloak to remove.
While those Umkhovu who had heard his orders began to go about their various tasks, the Royal Army soldiers, Lifeguards and Dragoons both, returned to theirs. Which, in this quiet time between the end of the war and the arrival of orders and reinforcements, was mostly training. Soon the echo of stamping boots and clashing arms could be heard once more, ricocheting from building to building.
Which meant it was time for the insufferable oaf that was Upton, acting regimental commander, to make his appearance.
“Sir, I must respectfully indicate that there are neither enough accommodations nor enough food supplies to support an increase in the population of the fortress to such a degree.”
Jacob gave a glance that suggested to the surrounding soldiers that regardless of their actual duties, they had best find themselves enacting them in another location. Those who took the hint moved away quickly, dragging those somewhat slower on the uptake.
“Upton, we have supplies laid in for when our reinforcements appear. Likewise, we have been expanding the barracks for the same purpose. In addition, I should point out that our current population is somewhat less than this encampment was designed to carry on a long term basis, meaning that we are, if anything, oversupplied. So if there is any more useless tripe you would wish to peddle, please do so in the latrines, where I do not have to be witness to your excrescences. Should you continue to do so in my presence, I will ensure that charges of rank insubordination are laid at your feet, ones that I can no doubt find plenty of corroboration for, given your ham-handed and entirely unworthy handling of the 1st Royal Dragoons. Indeed, if I had a single other officer advanced enough for the position which you currently hold, I would see you tossed aside and replaced. Your only luck is that there is no officer so qualified. However, if your belligerence to everyone around you continues, be it cavalry, infantry, or servant, the next time the supply train arrives, you will find yourself enlisted as a posterior guard, riding in the dust and filth the entire way back to New Town.”
Upton's face went purple with rage, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword.
“Before you do anything extremely foolish, I should remind you that attempting to duel a superior officer is considered mutiny and treason, and that I am giving you a chance to modify your behaviour until it is in line with what is appropriat
e from an officer in the Royal Army. Or at least one who hopes to arrive above the level of conscript commander. You are dismissed to your duties.” Jacob turned to admire the view, waiting until Upton had made up his mind about whether to attack or not. As it was, the animal cunning that Upton substituted for intelligence was able to win out over his rage, and he went to stalk away, back firm and held high.
“One last thing, Upton. You might want to consider speaking to your father about your schooling. Clearly, something was improperly done to allow you to grow into the man you are.”
That thrust went home almost too sharply, and the blade of the sword had half cleared the scabbard before being rammed back.
Jacob wondered if he'd pushed the man too far. The letters of protest that he received on the matter were likely to be extraordinarily fulsome, and there was a fair degree of probability that Upton would attempt to see to matters with his own hands, even after his rage had had a chance to cool. But that buffoon had become insufferable on so many different grounds, especially his insistence that he was now Jacob's equal due to his replacement of Darren. This despite being clearly inferior to Jacob in the described chain of command. Swiping the thought away with a wave of his hand, he settled in to wait for the arrival of his valet.
Who appeared within moments, as always.
“Given that you are one of those members of your clan who sent out notifications to others in your race, I believe you owe me some detail as to just what it is that is occurring down there.”
“I believe it is an activity called 'bathing', which is most often used for the cleansing of the skin.”
Jacob glared at his butler.
“I am not actually sure which clan is below us, although they have certainly done better than we have over the years, given their population. More so, in light of the recent conflict. Which will place us in some matter of difficulty, as generally the Umkhovu clan with the highest population is considered dominant.”
Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1) Page 22
