Horace had to smile in return. 'No. I'll be glad to get home. I've been away a long time.'
The Emperor gestured for Horace to follow and they left the pebble garden and entered a perfectly cultivated grove of trees. Once they were off the stepping stones, there was room for them to walk side by side.
'I hope your trip has been worthwhile. Have you learned much while you have been with us?' Shigeru asked.
'A great deal, your excellency. I'm not sure that your system would suit Araluen, but it is an interesting one.'
Nihon-Ja drew its warriors from a small, elite upper class, known as the Senshi. They were born to be trained in the art of the sword and began their training from an early age, to the detriment of most other forms of learning. As a result, the Senshi had become an aggressive and warlike sect, with a sense of superiority over the other classes of Nihon-Jan society.
Shigeru was a Senshi, but he was something of an exception. Naturally, he had trained with the katana since boyhood and he was a competent, if not an expert, warrior. As Emperor, it was expected that he should learn these skills. But he had wider interests – as Horace had just observed – and a compassionate and inquiring side to his nature. He was genuinely concerned for what were held to be the lower classes: the fishermen, farmers and timber workers who were regarded with contempt by the majority of Senshi.
'I'm not sure that we can maintain it as it is for much longer in this country either,' he told Horace. 'Or that we should.'
The young warrior looked sidelong at him. He knew that Shigeru had been working to improve conditions for the lower classes, and to give them a greater voice in how the country was governed. He had also learned that these initiatives were highly unpopular with a significant number of the Senshi.
'The Senshi will resist any change,' he warned the Emperor and the older man sighed.
'Yes. They will. They like to be in charge. This is why it is forbidden for the common people to carry arms or learn any weapon skills. They far outnumber the Senshi but the Senshi make up for their lack of numbers by their skill with weapons and their ferocity in battle. It's too much to ask untrained fishermen or farmers or timber workers to face such deadly opponents. It has happened in the past, of course, but when the workers did protest, they were cut to pieces.'
'I can imagine,' Horace said.
Shigeru stood a little straighter, held his head a little higher. 'But the Senshi must learn. They must adapt. They cannot continue to treat the people – my people – as inferiors. We need our workers, just as we need our warriors. Without the workers, there would be no food for the Senshi, no timber for their homes, no firewood to heat them or for the forges that create their swords. They must see that everybody contributes and there should be greater equality.'
Horace pursed his lips. He didn't want to reply because he sensed that Shigeru was setting himself an impossible task. With the exception of the Emperor's immediate retainers, the majority of Senshi had shown themselves to be fiercely opposed to any change in the current system – particularly if it gave a greater voice to the lower classes.
Shigeru sensed the young man's hesitation. 'You don't agree?' he asked mildly.
Horace shrugged uncomfortably. 'I agree,' he said. 'But my opinion doesn't matter. The question is, does Lord Arisaka agree?'
Horace had met Arisaka in the first week of his visit. He was the overlord of the Shimonseki clan, one of the largest and fiercest groups of Senshi warriors. He was a powerful and influential man and he made no secret of his opinion that the Senshi should remain the dominant class in Nihon-Ja. He was also a Swordmaster, regarded as one of the finest individual warriors in the country. Horace had heard rumours that Arisaka had killed more than twenty men in duels – and even more in the internecine battles that flared from time to time between the clans.
Shigeru smiled grimly at the mention of the arrogant warlord. 'Arisaka-san may have to learn to agree to his Emperor's wishes. After all, he has sworn an oath to me.'
'Then I'm sure he'll honour that oath,' Horace said, although he had grave doubts about the matter. As ever, Shigeru saw past the words themselves and recognised the concern in Horace's voice.
'But I'm being an impolite host,' he said. 'We have a little time left together and you should enjoy it – not spend it worrying over the internal politics of Nihon-Ja. Perhaps we can ride together to Iwanai? I'll have to be leaving here soon to return to Ito myself.'
They had spent the past week relaxing in the informal atmosphere of the Emperor's summer lodge, at the foot of the mountains. His principal palace and seat of government was a magnificent walled fortress in the city of Ito, a week's ride to the south. Their time at the lodge had been pleasant but, as Shigeru had noted earlier, autumn was forcing its way across the land, with its cold and blustery winds, and the summer lodge was not the most comfortable accommodation in cold weather.
'I'd enjoy that,' Horace said, pleased at the prospect of spending a few more days in Shigeru's company. He wondered at the bond of respect and affection that he felt for the Emperor. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Horace had grown up as an orphan, and so he was drawn to Shigeru's understated strength, gentle wisdom and unfailing good humour. In some ways, the Emperor reminded him of Halt, although his smooth good manners were a marked contrast to the Ranger's often acerbic nature. He gestured to the carefully cultivated trees around them, their leaves now blazing yellow and orange to herald autumn.
'I should tell George to start making preparations for the trip,' he said. 'I'll leave you to contemplate your trees.'
Shigeru, in his turn, gazed at the patterns of dark trunks and blazing leaves around him. He loved the peace and solitude in this garden, far away from the self-serving politics of the capital.
'Their beauty will be small recompense for the loss of your company,' he said smoothly and Horace grinned at him.
'You know, your excellency, I wish I could say stuff like that.'
Toscana A command rang across the parade ground and Will watched the roof of shields disappear as the legionnaires lowered them back to their normal position.
Then, in response to another command, the second and third ranks took a pace backwards. Each man carried a long javelin in addition to the short sword he wore on his right side. Now the men in the rear rank reversed their grip, turned side on and raised the javelins to the throwing position, right arms extended back, the javelins balanced over their right shoulders, aiming upwards at an angle of about forty degrees.
'Azione!'
Thirty-three right arms came forward, thirty-three right legs stepped into the cast and the flight of javelins arced away towards the wooden targets. They were still on their way when the second rank repeated the action, sending another thirty-three projectiles soaring.
There was no individual aim – each man simply cast his weapon at the mass of targets in front of him. Will realised that in a real battle, the optimum distance would be decided by the century commander, who was calling the orders.
The first volley arced up, then pitched down as the heavy iron heads of the javelins overcame the force of the throw. There was a rolling, splintering crash as the javelins hit home. Half of them struck the ground harmlessly. The other half smashed into the light wooden targets, knocking them to the ground. A few seconds later, the second flight arrived, with similar results. Within the space of a few seconds, nearly a third of the hundred targets had been splintered and demolished.
'Interesting,' Halt said softly. Will glanced quickly at him. Halt's face was impassive but Will knew him well. Halt was impressed.
'The first blow is often decisive,' Sapristi told them. 'Warriors who have never fought our legions before are shaken by this sudden devastation.'
'I can imagine,' Selethen said. He was watching keenly and Will guessed that he was imagining those lethal javelins crashing into a company of his light cavalry at full gallop.
'But today, for the sake of demonstration, our "enemy" will be overcom
e with rage and will go on with the attack,' the general continued.
As he spoke, the wild mass of enemy warriors moved up to the point where the targets had been savaged and splintered. Now they brandished their swords and charged at the wall of shields.
The solid crash as they hit the wall carried clearly to the observers. The front rank swayed a little under the initial impact. Then it steadied and held fast. Looking carefully, Will could see that the second row had closed up and were actually pushing their comrades forward, supporting them against the initial impact of the charge.
The tribesmen's swords flailed in swinging arcs at the big square shields. But for the most part they were ineffective – and they were getting in each other's way. By contrast, the short wooden practice swords of the legionnaires began to flicker in and out like serpents' tongues through narrow gaps in the shield wall, and the observers could hear the shouts of rage and pain from the attackers. The demonstration might be using blunt wooden weapons, but those jabbing impacts would be painful and the legionnaires weren't holding back.
'How can they see?' Will asked. The men in the front rank were crouched low behind the barrier formed by their shields.
'They can't see very well,' Sapristi told him. 'They see an occasional leg or arm or torso through the gaps and they stab out at them. After all, a man hit on the thigh or arm is rendered as ineffective as much as a man stabbed through the chest. Our troops just plough forward, jabbing and stabbing at anything they see on the other side of their shields.'
'That's why your men don't need to be expert swordsmen,' Will said.
The general smiled appreciatively at him. 'That's right. They don't have to learn any advanced techniques of strike and parry and riposte. They just stab and jab with the point of the sword. It's a simple technique to learn and a few centimetres of the point does just as much damage as a wide sweeping blow. Now watch as the second rank add their weight to the advance.'
The perfectly aligned front rank was edging slowly forward, crowding the enemy and forcing them back. Now the second rank suddenly rushed forward, once more adding their weight and impetus to those of the men in front of them, and the extra drive sent the enemy staggering back, buffeted and shoved by the huge shields, jabbed and harassed by the darting short swords. Then, having gained a brief respite, the formation stopped. A long whistle blast rang out and the second rank turned in place so that they stood back-to-back with the front rank. Another signal on the whistle and the front rank pivoted to their left, while the second rank pivoted right. Each pair of men stepped in a small half-circle. Within a few seconds, the front rank had been replaced, all at once, by the fresh men from the second rank. The former front rankers passed back through the third rank, who took their place behind the new front row. The attackers now faced totally fresh opponents, while the former front rank had a chance to recover and redress their losses.
'That's brilliant,' Will said.
Sapristi nodded at him. 'It's drill and co-ordination,' he said. 'Our men don't need to be expert swordmasters. That takes a lifetime of training. They need to be drilled and to work as a team. Even a relatively unskilled warrior can be effective in these conditions. And it doesn't take long to learn.'
'Which is why you can maintain such a large army,' Halt said.
Sapristi switched his gaze to the older Ranger. 'Exactly,' he replied. Most countries maintained a relatively small standing force of expert warriors as the core of their army, calling on less-skilled men at arms to fill out the numbers in time of war. The Toscans, however, needing to maintain order in their spreading empire, had to have a large permanent army on call at all times.
Selethen fingered his chin thoughtfully. His left hand had strayed unconsciously to the hilt of his sabre as he watched. Sapristi glanced at him, pleased to see that the demonstration had had a sobering effect on the Arridi leader. It didn't hurt, Sapristi thought, for Toscana's new ally to appreciate the might of the Toscan legions.
'Let's go and take a look at the results,' Sapristi said. He rose and led the way down from the reviewing platform to the parade ground, where the two forces, the demonstration now complete, had drawn apart. The legionnaires still stood in their measured rows. The attacking force milled about in a loose group.
'We had the practice swords dipped in fresh paint, so we could measure results,' Sapristi told them. He led the way to the enemy group. As they drew closer, Halt and Will could see arms, legs, torsos, necks spattered with red blotches. The marks were testimony to the number of times the legionnaires' wooden swords had found their mark.
The attackers' longer swords had been coated with white paint. Looking now, the Araluans could see only occasional evidence that these swords had struck home. There were criss-cross patterns and random splotches of white on the shields and some of the brass helmets of the legionnaires, but the majority of men in the century were unscathed.
'Very effective,' Selethen told the general. 'Very effective indeed.' Already, his agile mind was at work, figuring ways to counteract a force of heavy infantry such as this.
Halt was obviously having similar thoughts. 'Of course, you've chosen perfect conditions for heavy infantry here,' he said, sweeping an arm around the flat, open parade ground. 'In more constricted country, like forest land, you wouldn't be able to manoeuvre so efficiently.'
Sapristi nodded in acknowledgement. 'True,' he said. 'But we choose our battlefields and let the enemy come to us. If they don't, we simply invade their lands. Sooner or later, they have to face us in battle.'
Will had wandered away from the group and was studying one of the javelins. It was a crude weapon, he saw. The square wooden shaft was only roughly shaped – just a very ordinary, minimally dressed piece of hardwood. The point was equally utilitarian. It was a thick rod of soft iron, about half a metre long, hammered flat at the end and sharpened into a barbed point. A groove had been cut down one side of the shaft and the head had been slotted into it and bound in place with brass wire.
Sapristi saw him looking at it and walked over to join him.
'They're not pretty,' he said. 'But they work. And they're easy and quick to make. In fact, the soldiers can make their own, at a pinch. We can turn out thousands of these in a week. And you've seen how effective they can be.' He indicated the rows of smashed and splintered targets.
'It's bent,' Will said critically, running his hand along the distorted iron head.
'And it can be straightened easily and used again,' the general told him. 'But that's actually an advantage. Imagine one of these hitting an enemy's shield. It penetrates, and the barb holds it in place. Then the head bends, so that the handle is dragging on the ground. Try fighting effectively with nearly two metres of iron and wood dragging from your shield. I assure you, it's not an easy thing to do.'
Will shook his head admiringly. 'It's all very practical, isn't it?'
'It's a logical solution to the problem of creating a large and effective fighting force,' Sapristi told him. 'If you pitted any of these legionnaires in a one-on-one battle against a professional warrior, they would probably lose. But give me a hundred unskilled men to drill for six months and I'll back them against an equal number of warriors who've been training in individual combat skills all their lives.'
'So it's the system that's successful, not the individual?' Will said.
'Exactly,' Sapristi told him. 'And so far, nobody has come up with a way to defeat our system in open battle.'
'How would you do it?' Halt asked Selethen that night. The negotiations had been finalised, agreed, signed and witnessed. There had been an official banquet to celebrate the fact, with speeches and compliments on all sides. Now Selethen and the Araluan party were relaxing in the Araluans' quarters. It would be their last night together as the Wakir was due to leave early the following morning. Selethen had brought some of the trade gift kafay with him and he, Will and Halt were all savouring the brew. Nobody, Will thought, made coffee quite as well as the Arridi.
&nb
sp; Alyss sat by the fireplace, smiling at the three of them. She liked coffee, but for Rangers, and apparently the Arridi, coffee drinking was close to a religious experience. She contented herself with a goblet of fresh, citrus-tasting sherbet.
'Simple,' said Selethen. 'Never let them choose the conditions. As Sapristi said, they've never been defeated in open battle. So you need fight a more fluid action against them. Catch them when they're on the move and in file. Hit them on the flanks with quick raids, before they can go into their defensive formation. Or use artillery against them. That rigid formation makes for a very compact target. Hit it with heavy bolts from a mangonel or rocks from catapults and you'd start to punch holes in it. Once it loses cohesion, it's not so formidable.'
Halt was nodding. 'I was thinking the same,' he said. 'Never confront them head-on. If you could get a force of archers behind them without their realising it, their tortoise formation would be vulnerable.
'But of course,' he continued, 'they rely on their enemies' sense of outrage when they invade a country. Very few armies will have the patience to carry out a running battle, harassing and weakening them over a period. Very few leaders would be able to convince their followers that this was the best way. National pride would force most to confront them, to try to force them back across the border.'
'And we saw what happens when you confront them,' Will said. 'Those javelins were effective.' Both the older men nodded.
'Limited range, however,' Selethen said. 'No more than thirty or forty metres.'
'But quite deadly at that range,' Halt said, agreeing with Will.
'It seems to me,' said Alyss cheerfully, 'that the best course to take would be one of negotiation. Negotiate with them rather than fight them. Use diplomacy, not weapons.'
'Spoken like a true diplomat,' Halt said, giving her one of his rare smiles. He was fond of Alyss, and her bond with Will made him even more inclined to like her. She bowed her head in mock modesty. 'But what if diplomacy fails?'
The Emperor of Nihon-Ja ra-10 Page 2
