Harald-ARC

by David Friedman

  A graybeard, bear clan tattoo on his chest, came forward:

  "No ill done to,

  No ill doing,

  Our water drink, our well draw

  Three nights, three days"

  He handed the lead rider a horn cup. Donal took a sip of the water, passed it to his uncle. Niall, at the end of the line, emptied the cup, rode forward to return it.

  The formalities over, the Fox clan riders dismounted, saw to their horses. Their hosts eyed the string of unloaded pack horses, politely said nothing about the blood stained cloth wrapping the arm of one of their guests.

  Around the fire that night, conversation drifted gradually towards their presence far north of their own territory. Donal muttered something about more guards than they expected; his uncle glared at him, cut into the conversation:

  "An unprofitable trip, save for the pleasure of guesting with you. Maybe better luck later. Any problems, foreigners, Ravens, not your folk. Eagle territory anyway."

  The next morning they set off again, headed for another well a day's travel south and west. Once out of sight of their hosts, Donal and Niall moved forward until they were riding beside Maelsach. The older man turned to Niall:

  "Too much last night?"

  "Kept offering; guest's duty to drink. Talk too. I did. Wagons full of Empire's gold—or something else worth six hands of Ravens to guard. They wanted to know more, told them if there'd been fewer guards I'd know more. Only thing I'm sure they were carrying was arrows. Lot of guards for a caravan of arrows.

  "Didn't see my brother." He turned to look at Donal.

  "Better than drinking. Pretty lady asks questions, what can I do? Didn't know for sure what they were carrying. Had our guesses. Take more men than we had to find out."

  Kiron

  To ask well, to answer rightly,

  Are the marks of a wise man.

  The guards at the door came to attention, spear butts striking the stone floor precisely together. Slender, medium height, scarred face—the visitor came into the governor's office, dropped to one knee:

  "Highness."

  "Commander. Your news?"

  "This morning a rider came in. Raven clan—from the supply train that set out four days ago. He says the wagons were attacked by raiders—Eagles. Taken, the guards killed or driven off."

  "How big was the escort?"

  "Twenty riders, a dozen crossbows. He says the attackers were two or three times their number."

  "Why would they be raiding a supply caravan? Is there any word of famine on the plains?"

  The commander shook his head.

  "We're sending the wagons with big escorts. Maybe they thought they were carrying something more valuable than food for your troops, water for your pool."

  "We can't have them raiding our supplies; what do we do?"

  The commander glanced at the young man standing behind the Prince's shoulder. The Prince answered the unspoken question:

  "You can speak openly."

  "The Eagles' oasis is a long day's march west of here. The Second has been too long in camp. With Your Highness's leave, I find any Eagles in town and send them back to their chiefs with a message. The men responsible for the raid to be delivered up to us, the supplies, wagons, horses returned, blood money for the dead, hostages against future behavior."

  "Will they do it?"

  "No. Before dawn tomorrow, the Second, a few hundred light infantry, mostly archers, all the Ravens we can find. We reach Eagle Oasis before dusk, demand an immediate answer. They refuse. We take the oasis."

  "What do they do?"

  "They can't stay around in force because there's not enough water. They might try to take it back then and there—get killed. Might meet our terms. If not—land with water is scarce. We settle the oasis with our people, maybe Ravens too. Eagles move west, try to take someone else's territory or find a clan with spare land willing to have them as clients. Your Highness's province is a day wider. The clans don't raid us again. All over before the main campaign starts—and the troops get a little exercise."

  "Do it. Before you go, I have a favor to ask. I would like my son Kiron to join your staff. You may find him useful; he will surely find what he learns useful later."

  The commander looked curiously at the young man, nodded. "Of course."

  The Prince motioned his son forward:

  "Kiron, Commander Artos. You will obey him."

  The young man bowed, saluted. His father turned back to the commander.

  "I'm sending Giorgios with him. He finds peace boring."

  "Like old times, Highness; sure you don't want to come along?"

  The Prince shook his head.

  "I would only get in the way. Besides, I have my own war to fight here. I hope my son will learn from the two of you as I did."

  The commander turned to the Prince's son.

  "You have your equipment?"

  "Yes sir. Giorgios told me what I would need."

  "He'll know the house I'm using for staff. Meet with me half an hour before dinner. The legions dine early."

  When Kiron arrived at the house he was shown up to the commander's office; Giorgios remained behind to gossip with the door guards. Artos was alone. He motioned Kiron to a seat.

  "What do you know of the planned campaign?"

  "A surprise attack on the Vales to seize their northernmost valley and the river that comes out of it—more if possible. The Oasis as supply base and staging area."

  "What do other people think we are doing?"

  "Some think His Majesty is failing and the army is to fight my uncle. I've heard a few say that you plan to ally with some of the clans, move against the others, expand the province into the plains. There's some talk about moving south into the Vales, but not much. I heard one legion officer say their chief is the trickiest bastard alive."

  "He is. Not chief—Harald's title is Senior Paramount. Worth remembering. What do you say?"

  "As little as I can. Talk about horses, women."

  "Good. Spreading rumors is a useful tactic, but doing it badly is worse than not doing it. What do you think?"

  "Giorgios says the problem isn't finding troops but supplying them—that there isn't a lot of water between the Oasis and the river. I thought, if you had a way of doing it, you might get there before the Vales have time to raise an army."

  "Yes. If everything goes right, they find out we're coming when we get there. Against someone else, there's a good chance it would work. Fooling Harald isn't impossible, but I'm not counting on it. What do you know about the pool at the Oasis?"

  "Father's swimming pool? I've heard people talking. Seemed like an awful waste of money and effort to be doing... Oh."

  "When the army reaches the Oasis, your father's swimming pool will have the water it needs to refill and continue south. If we are very lucky, Harald either hasn't heard about it or hasn't figured out what it is. If we aren't very lucky, the river we need to reach will be defended by several thousand cataphracts, under the best general alive."

  "I thought you ... "

  "If I thought that, I would lose. Harald has spent the past twenty-five years defeating every army sent south, most of them bigger than his. Remember that. If it makes us too scared, we give up before we start. If it doesn't make us scared enough, most of us don't get back. I plan to break his record, but it isn't going to be easy."

  "It isn't fair. You have Harald to deal with; Gavin doesn't."

  "I have the fox to deal with, he has the vixen—the Lady Commander's been helping Harald win battles longer than you've been alive.

  Dinner, with Artos, a dozen members of his staff, the commanders of the second legion and the light infantry that would accompany them, was mostly spent on plans for the morning's advance on the Eagle clan oasis. Kiron said as little as he courteously could. When the others left, the commander motioned for him to stay.

  "What do you think about tomorrow's plans?"

  "Father says the nomads are the best li
ght cavalry you can get."

  "They are. I recruit them when I can—half Raven clan is taking your father's gold at the moment."

  "So why is everyone so sure we can beat them tomorrow?"

  "Good question. Always ask it.

  "First rule: If nobody makes any mistakes, infantry can beat cavalry but can't catch it. Remember that; it's important."

  "We have the best infantry; why don't we always win?"

  "One reason is that we make mistakes. The other is that soldiers have to eat and drink—if they didn't, we'd rule the world by now."

  Kiron looked puzzled. The commander gave him a moment to think before he went on.

  "Infantry controls any place but not every place. As long as the enemy has the cavalry, everywhere we aren't is theirs. That includes all the places supplies have to cross to get to our army. Try to hold the whole supply line, get too thin, they concentrate, break you.

  "Eagle clan can't hold their oasis against a legion—and without the oasis they don't have the supplies to hang around and make trouble. Once they're gone, we leave a few lights—more of them than we can use for the main campaign anyway—and settlers. If some of the settlers are Ravens, their clan brothers will keep an eye on things—we don't even have to pay them.

  "Fighting Harald is going to be harder, but once we have the river, better yet the vale it comes out of, the hardest part of the supply problem is solved. And he has the same problem if he tries to move north and cut our lines—horses drink a lot more water than men. If we can get a foothold and keep it, we'll settle the vale, raise crops, herds. See you in the morning—early."

  Visit To The Vales

  The man who stands at a strange threshold,

  Should be cautious before he cross it,

  A trumpet blew. The gate of the Oasis swung wide; Artos rode through it. After him long lines of dusty legionaries, a column of crossbow men, a lot of wagons, a second legion. The garrison commander met him, drew him into the cool of the guardroom by the gate.

  "You came anyway? We don't have much water."

  The commander looked puzzled.

  "What about the pool?"

  Konstantin looked in turn puzzled, worried, frightened.

  "You didn't get my message?"

  Artos shook his head.

  "I sent it off as soon as it happened—been waiting for an answer telling me what to do."

  "As soon as what happened?"

  The garrison commander hesitated a moment, spoke:

  "Weeks ago. A night attack. While we were guarding the gate someone lobbed a lot of chunks of salt over the wall into the pool. Got out what we could, but nobody's going far on that water. I sent a messenger to you the same day. Since then we've kept the cistern filled, all the barrels we have—but ... "

  The commander went to the door of the room, started yelling out names, then sat down at the table and started writing messages. Over the next few minutes the room filled with staff officers.

  "We have a problem. Some unfriendly people dumped a lot of salt over the wall into the tank we were planning to use for drinking water. Not wanting us to lose any sleep, they also took out the messenger Konstantin here sent to tell us about it. Thoughtful folk.

  "First step is word to the cavalry to turn back, hold at base until there's water enough to get them where we're going. Giorgio, go find a courier, four Ravens for escort. Here's the message, but have him check with me before he leaves.

  "Next is a water census to figure out how bad a hole we're in. Lagio, that's your job. Konstantin can find one of his people who knows what they have.

  "Kiron, you're with Lagio. Your job is to see how much of the water in the pool we can use. If all that's in it is salt, we can dilute with regular water for the men—a little salt in the water isn't a problem. Figure out how many parts of good water it takes to one part of what's in the pool to get something nobody will mind."

  "Should I check what the horses will drink too, sir?"

  "Salt in water makes horses drink more—loses us more than it saves. Men have more sense.

  "Fintal. Since they're expecting us, we need more scouts. Talk to your Ravens about the trip south; see if you have enough riders to screen us. Send a few out today, just to check."

  Half an hour later the courier, with escort, rode north, a troop of Ravens south. By dark errands were run, tenting up; the army settled down to enjoy the brief hospitality of the Oasis.

  The others having retired, the commander turned to Kiron.

  "Tell me what happened, what we should do now."

  Kiron paused for thought before answering.

  "Harald figured out the pool, sent some of his cats to dump a lot of salt into it; I don't know how."

  "More likely nomads; he has friends in the clans. Cats have a salt mine near the bottom of Mainvale; they sell it east and west. By what Konstantin says, I'm guessing a traction trebuchet—little rock thrower. Set it up outside the wall, five or six men pulling on ropes, dump a lot of salt. "

  Kiron thought a moment before he continued. "After they left here, his people went farther north, ambushed the messenger so you wouldn't know about the water. Did they put Eagle clan up to raiding our wagons too?"

  "If so, it's the first part of Harald's plan that didn't work—it cost us a few men and wagons, but let us push the border west. What now?"

  "Twenty-five hundred infantry, a hundred Ravens. Counting the horses, well over two thousand gallons of water a day—three thousand counting horses pulling wagons with water and supply. I don't see how you can do it. We could leave part of the army here, but not much; the Oasis doesn't have enough water. Going back doesn't solve the problem either—we still need water to get there. It looks bad; I think I'm missing something."

  "Between here and the river isn't no water, just not enough. Ravens can sweep wide, use wells too far west for the army. A few more tricks; you'll see. Suppose I get the army to the Northflood; what next?"

  "That takes care of water, assuming Harald can't stop you from getting to it. He'll have an army by now. We still need food. Without cavalry as escort, how do we get supply wagons back and forth? Even if he can't supply an army on our side of the river, he can raid. Use the Ravens as escorts?"

  "Not enough—and we need them for scouts. I'm not planning to leave our cavalry out of the campaign forever. Think about how I get them to the river once I'm there. See you in the morning."

  * * *

  A hundred miles to the south, the Northflood poured deep and fast out of Newvale, spread out, flowed west. Along the south bank men were digging earthworks. The plain north of the river was scattered with horses, herds of sheep. South of the river orderly rows of small tents, a short line of covered hammocks, farther west a Fox clan encampment—the host of the Northvales and friends.

  "Donal."

  He looked up, saw his foster father looking north across the river.

  "Get mounted. We have guests." Harald whistled; the gray mare stopped grazing and trotted over.

  The two men rode their horses through the ford. On the far bank, the first knot of riders had grown—easily forty Westkin. Their leader raised an empty hand to Harald.

  "Foreigners our fields fell upon

  Force too fell.

  Our foes, your foes.

  Women, weak children to friends west

  Warriors willing

  War to wage.

  A fool fights alone.

  Foe of my foe

  Friend."

  Harald paused a moment, gave answer:

  "Fell to foes

  Faith to my folk

  First our fields guard.

  Fortune favors, foe falls

  For his freedom

  Far fields of friends

  a fair price."

  The Eagle chief drew an arrow from his quiver, jabbed himself above the heart, smeared the drop of blood over the point, handed the arrow to Harald.

  "Faith I fail

  Against friend's foe

&n
bsp; This finds me."

  Harald took the arrow, carefully wrapped the point in a scrap of cloth, slid it into his bow case.

  "Bow and bolt

  Bend and death's bearer

  Gold banner's bane."

  Without dismounting the two men embraced, then set to dealing with details of their alliance. Eagle clan made camp a safe distance from the Fox encampment, left a few men north of the river to deal with further arrivals; Harald set in train preparations for a feast.