Harald-ARC

by David Friedman

  Estfen shook his head: "He broke off at the end with his escort, left the banner behind. His House Guard too."

  "Damn. Anyone found the Maril commander?"

  One of Estfen's guards spoke.

  "Big man over there tangled up with the bay; don't think he's alive."

  Several of the mercenaries were gathered around the body. Harald spoke to them slowly:

  "Maril. Hfi sac Kaerl, Tengyu?"

  One of them looked up. "Speak tongue. Some."

  "Who is in charge of your people?"

  That produced a quick conference in their own language. One of them, right arm bound tight to his body, armor splotched with blood, came forward. The other pointed at him:

  "Helf top still alive. Think."

  The injured man called out something. A minute later, another Maril limped over from beyond the tangle of bodies around Andrew's fallen banner.

  "I speak your language."

  Harald looked up from helping two of the guards get their captain onto a stretcher.

  "Your Majesty, this is Janos son of Kanos. Helped us run the Imperials out of River province back when all of us were younger. Janos, His Majesty of Kaerlia. Henry's boy. Fellow you and your friends just did your best to kill."

  Janos exchanged a few words with Helf, turned to the King, gave a low bow:

  "Your Majesty, I and my fellows are your prisoners. The terms are yours to set."

  James thought a moment.

  "You have two choices. Go home, on foot, we keep everything but supplies to get you there, horses enough to carry the wounded that can't walk.

  "Or take service with me. You get your horses, arms and armor back. When I think you've earned them, we can talk about pay."

  Janos bowed again to the King, turned to his fellows. The discussion was too fast for Harald to follow any of it. When it ended, Janos turned back to James.

  "Provision for our wounded?"

  "Same as ours. Nearest villages that can feed them."

  "I accept. For myself, all here. Your men."

  He dropped clumsily to one knee, wincing. The King took his hands between his own. When they were done, Harald spoke.

  "Let me look at that leg."

  "Only fair."

  As he spoke, Janos pulled the feather end of a broken shaft from his belt, held it out. Harald looked, nodded, set to work.

  Stephen came over, accompanied by a man in blue and gold who bowed to the King, spoke.

  "Your Majesty. What's left of your cousin's guard asked me to tell you we didn't know."

  The King gave him a long look. The guard captain met it.

  "Bandage your wounded, bury your dead. Swear to me. What's left of you are with my guard till this is over."

  The King waited until the wounded had been dealt with before ordering his pavilion pitched. Harald, last to arrive, found the King on a camp stool, six provincial lords standing, Leonora sitting in a corner. He found a travel sack filled with something soft, sat down next to her. The King spoke.

  "Excellencies, Lady Commander, my lord Harald. My cousin is defeated but not taken. Before we plan for the morrow, let us count today's losses." He looked around.

  Estfen spoke first. "Half a dozen wounded, one badly. Maril were already engaged; we took them in the rear."

  "One company missed my signals, joined the charge. Eight dead, twelve wounded." That was Estvale.

  "Five went; lost three of them."

  The King's center had suffered more—of nine hundred cavalry, some seven hundred still fit to ride. Order, crossbowmen, and cats, exchanging arrows with the nomads at long range, light losses. The Maril and Andrew's small guard had suffered most of all. Of four hundred heavy cavalry, a hundred and fifty without serious injury.

  "Now what? Do we chase my cousin north and try to catch him or figure he's the Emperor's problem?"

  Estfen spoke: "The first thing is to send riders to everyone who isn't here, tell them His Majesty is safe, at peace with Harald and the Order, Andrew an outlaw. How do we settle Wolves, Ladies, all that?"

  "The Company of Royal Messengers is dissolved by my order. Any from my father's day are ordered back to my castle; I'll still need people to carry messages. The rest are dismissed. The Order is under the command of the Lady Commander. I owe her blood money for any Ladies killed by the Wolves. The fault is mine; I'll accept her count."

  "What about land?"

  The King looked puzzled.

  "Wolves seized Order land, sold it."

  "Any transfer not approved in writing by the Council is void. That's been law for two hundred years." That was Leonora.

  "Be a lot of unhappy people down south."

  The King shrugged. Nobody spoke.

  A familiar voice outside the tent; the King looked up, startled:

  "Would Your Majesty like to feed your guests?"

  Anne came into the pavilion, followed by two men with trays, one with pitchers. Conversation stopped. She offered mugs of beer to the King's guests, starting with Harald and Leonora; the men filled plates and passed them. After a few minutes, James spoke again:

  "Before we were so pleasantly interrupted, I was asking advice on dealing with Andrew."

  There was a long silence; Estfen broke it.

  "Do I understand, Your Majesty, that Andrew was receiving troops and gold from the Empire?"

  The King nodded.

  "Then it isn't my advice you want." Heads turned, another long pause. At last Harald spoke.

  "Your Majesty told me why you trusted your cousin. Close to you, not in the immediate line of succession, better off with you alive."

  The King nodded. "I still don't understand. He had four hundred heavies, guard and Maril together, two hundred nomads. Double that, he still couldn't have come close to taking me on. If I was dead he might have persuaded one or two lords to back him against young William, but not enough. Something is missing."

  "Ambushed Westkin south of Borderflood, showed you what the warleader was carrying. Lots of gold. Scrolls. You read the open one. I read the other. Didn't say who it was for, but I think we can guess. Little less than two weeks, legions cross the river."

  Harald stopped speaking; the tent was silent.

  Payment In Full

  For the Warrior weapons

  And wit.

  The next morning messengers went out, from the King to call out the provincial levy, from the Lady Commander to assemble the host. Westval, having fought the battle in his own province, took charge of distributing the wounded among his villages while the rest of his levy assembled. The others moved north in three columns—the levies of North and River under their lords, accompanied by a tatave of the Order, up the middle of the plain, the eastern levies, with a second tatave, up the western edge, and the rest of the army, with Harald and the King, along the eastern edge, as they had come.

  A little past noon James found Harald riding beside him and took the opportunity for questions:

  "Do you think he'll try to double back south?"

  "Doubt it."

  "So why spread out? Scout screen the width of the plains. Do you think the Imperials might come early?"

  "Doubt it."

  The King looked curiously at Harald.

  "Imperials could come early. Andrew could turn south. Enemies don't always do what I expect. Friends neither.

  "Three thousand horses eat a lot of grass. Spread out, move slow, more grazing, more grain left when we need it. More villages to buy food from, too.

  "Some Ladies to talk with. Be back."

  Harald pulled his mare out of line, watched the double column move past. Saw a familiar face, fell in beside. Elaina looked up:

  "Mad at me again?" Harald said nothing. Kara shook her head.

  "He knew. Could have sent her back. Didn't."

  "Think I can see through a steel cap?"

  She shook her head. "You can count."

  Elaina looked puzzled. Harald nodded.

  "Said I sounded like your mo
ther. So do you."

  The next time he joined the column it was next to Leonora.

  "Bright girl 'Laina had."

  "Kara? Yes. Only reason my Elaina hasn't gotten herself killed yet."

  "Rode south with Anne three across. Knew I'd see. Knew I saw."

  She closed her eyes. He leaned over, put one arm around her waist; she let her head rest a moment on his shoulder as they rode. He spoke softly.

  "Would be proud of her."

  They rode together, saying nothing. After a while he fell out of the column, trotted back to the King.

  Two days later they reached the long valley that led to Eston and the royal castle. Anne and the wounded, with a small escort of the King's guard, took the turn. The rest continued north, moving slowly to let the horses graze. When they reached Stephen's hill another army was camped below it—the rest of the levy of the two border provinces. The combined force moved north, spread out on a ten mile front, waited.

  Early morning. The King, bored and curious, followed Harald and Egil out of camp. They reined in on a low hill, both facing west. The morning sun caught the peaks above the high pass, struck sparks. He had almost come up with them when Harald wheeled the mare, spoke.

  "What's your count?"

  "Four thousand from the provinces. My people... the Maril, Andrew's guard, almost balance our losses—twelve hundred. Four hundred crossbows and pikes."

  "'Nora has twelve hundred and change. Egil takes the cats out today, make sure no surprises. The rest move tomorrow."

  The next day the army moved north and east to a ridge a day's ride south of the river. From time to time a scout arrived, spoke to Harald, went off again. Late that afternoon he shifted the whole force half a mile west. The Order set up pavises along the crest of the ridge, crossbowmen to their right where it rose to a small hill. The cavalry made camp on the next ridge back, cats at the bottom of the slope between. A little before dark scouts came in to report the Imperial army encamped some three miles north.

  "Have a count?"

  "Banners of three legions, about as many lights. Cavalry, not a lot, ten cacades, maybe less."

  "Commander's banner?"

  "Stripes, red and gold."

  "You're sure?"

  The cat nodded.

  "May get you back to your wife in one piece. Me too."

  The King gave Harald a puzzled look.

  "You know who the commander is?"

  "Who he isn't. Second Prince must be on the outs again; Artos is his man. Best they have. Got the army back across the river after Fox Valley."

  "Not good enough to keep you from beating him."

  "Battle started, junior legion commander. Before dark, highest rank officer left. Morning, we surrounded the earthworks—nobody there but a few wounded too bad to move. Trail of bodies north—but he got most of them home. Good man. Hope he's safe in bed, farther the better."

  That night the men ate their fill. The next morning they formed up. The ridge top was archers—Order center and left, crossbows on the right. Harald and the King were at the right end of the line; someone had set up an extra pavise for them. Part way down the slope behind them, the royal guard waited to protect the right flank—or the King. The main body of heavy cavalry, under Stephen's command, was massed along the lower slope of the next ridge south, sheltered from arrows, positioned to charge down that, up the battle ridge, and over. North was another long ridge, another beyond it.

  A dozen cats came over the ridge to the north, riding hard for the right end of Harald's line. Behind them, a mass of Imperial light cavalry. Seeing the line of archers along the crest of the next ridge they slowed, spread out, stopped well out of arrowshot; from their center a rider back over the ridge.

  On the far ridge more men. Three bodies of infantry—a tight block in the center, looser formations at each side. Cavalry on the flanks. As they moved down the slope the cavalry in front of them split, moved. By the time they came to a stop halfway down the slope, there were only two bodies of cavalry, one covering the right flank, one the left. Over the ridge more infantry, behind them a small cluster of mounted men, banners. Harald turned to the King.

  "See the center, tight formation? Ninth legion on the right, twenty-second left, sixth between. A thousand men each—three thousand Imperial heavies. Either side light infantry—Bashkai by the look of them. Fast, fierce. Not fond of taking orders. Medium cavalry, some light for scouting. The crowd farther back is archers—Norlander, mostly. Behind that commander, staff, messengers."

  The infantry began to move down hill, drums beating time. From the top of the battle ridge, arrows. The legions' shields came up. The Bashkhai on the right were pulling ahead of the legions; trumpets. They slowed, stopped, moved forward again.

  "They're coming at a walk—why?"

  "Fair way to go, still at long range. Big shields; arrows don't do much to a formed legion. Have to break them first. Bashkai'll suffer some, worse if they arrive by themselves."

  The legions had reached the bottom, started up the long slope towards the archers. Behind them their own archers formed up. A few fell, most got pavises set up, took position behind them, started shooting uphill. An arrow buried itself in the dirt a few feet in front of the pavise sheltering Harald and the King. The crossbows shot back, range lengthened by the advantage in height.

  Harald signaled to Egil. The cats moved out to the right, came over the ridge, down, shooting as they rode, pouring arrows into the flank of the light infantry on the Imperial left. Harald watched the Imperial cavalry, massed well out of range of his archers. It didn't move.

  "Harald!"

  He turned. The King was pointing east, beyond the cats.

  The newcomers were nomads, moving at a trot, heading for the rear of the cats. Behind them a banner—blue bear on gold—a cluster of more heavily armed riders. Already cats were falling. Harald stood up, called something, signaled.

  The King went down the back slope at a run, yelling to his guard. The column of heavy horse formed, moved out, the King at its head. The nomads saw them coming, wheeled, scattered east. Trumpet calls. The guard slowed, came back. A few arrows followed them. The cats were already back behind the ridge. Egil nodded to the King as he came by, went back to bandaging a wounded arm.

  By the time the King got back to where Harald still watched the battle, the legions were half way up the slope, still formed, a few bodies marking their path. The Bashkai left and right of them had lost more but were still coming steadily. Harald called something down to Egil, readjusted the shield on his left arm, drew an arrow from the quiver at his belt, aimed high, released. Again. Watching, James saw that the arrows were short; Harald was drawing the point behind the bow, using the shield now covering his wrist to guide it. Dismounted cats were forming up along the ridge, shooting at a high angle. The legions kept coming.

  In the Imperial command group on the far slope, something was happening. A horse ran wild. The group was moving back, farther up the slope.

  Harald sheathed his bow, looked along the ridge. The legions were a little more than sixty yards from the line of archers. He signaled; somewhere a horn call, whistles. The Ladies, abandoning their pavises, turned and ran down the back slope of the ridge towards the massed cavalry. The crossbow men were moving back as well. The army was retreating. He turned to the King.

  "Cavalry to get ready to charge."

  "Charge? The legions aren't broken. You said ..."

  "Do it."

  The King spoke to the trumpeter downhill; the trumpet call rang out, was echoed. The lower slope of the ridge to the south came alive, men mounting, lances.

  The King felt Harald's hand on his shoulder, turned, looked. Behind the Imperial army, a line of mounted men came over the ridge, started down. A second line. A third.

  Downslope of them, where the command group had been, was a tangle of bodies.

  "Hrolf's back."

  The King stepped clear of the pavise to see better. Harald pulled him back.r />
  "They still have archers. Not much longer."

  On the Imperial left their cavalry, attacked from behind, men falling, fled east out of the battle. The riders on the right wheeled, charged into a storm of arrows, made it half way to the advancing cats before what were left broke and fled.

  The front line of cats was moving down the slope faster and faster, lances lowered. Behind them the second and third lines, shooting as they came. Too far to see arrows, but the Imperial archers were chaos. The line of lancers hit what was left of them, went through, shifted to bows, poured arrows at short range into the rear of the Imperial infantry. The second and third line, half way down the slope, shifted targets. Under the rain of arrows the light infantry broke formation, ran for the ridge. In the center shrill trumpet calls. Three legions, precise as on the drill field, reversed in place, each man facing about, raised a shield wall against the rain of arrows. Long spears, passed forward to what was now the second rank, coming down to face the cats. Another trumpet call; the legions moved forward over their own dead.