by N. C. Reed
“Yeah,” he nodded, voice reluctant. “But way I figure it, man like you, might have need o’ men like us, was we at war or whatnot. Be able to use us where you couldn’t use reg’lar soldiers.”
“But we’re not at war,” Parno pointed out. Parsons look spoke volumes.
“We ain’t now,” Parsons corrected. “But you know, well as I do, how quick that can change. Them Nor-heatherns, they’ll be across the border one day in the future, sure as God makes little green apples. Just a matter o’ when, milord, not if.” Parno found himself reassessing Parsons. While his speech and mannerisms were those of someone from a rustic background, he was intelligent.
“Likely true,” Parno nodded. “Still, were I to need someone such as yourself, they would still have to be part of the regiment. That’s the only way I can guarantee that any wants and warrants will be suppressed. Otherwise. . . .” Parno shrugged helplessly.
“I figured that,” Parsons nodded. “What’s all involved in bein’ in the Army?”
“Well, as to that, it’s probably best if you meet the Regimental Commander.”
*****
“Doak Parsons,” Darvo breathed it more than spoke it. Parno nodded.
“Yes. Just rode right up and wanted to join,” he admitted.
“How ‘bout that,” Darvo scratched his head. “He’s something else, lad, that he is. Wasn’t always a brigand, either.”
“I suspected as much,” Parno replied. “He’s very intelligent, though he makes an effort to hide it.”
“I ‘spect so, considerin’ the company he keeps,” Darvo agreed. “And he wants to join up, does he?” Parno nodded.
“Well, we can use him,” Darvo nodded. “That bunch of his will be better than fair horsemen, lad. They can likely train the others that aren’t so adept to the saddle.”
“Parsons suggested I could use him for. . .other things,” Parno mused idly. “If you can use them to train the others in horsemanship, then by all means do so. But I think maybe I might make use of Parsons, and perhaps a few of his men, for something else, later on.”
“And what might that be?” Darvo asked, an all too familiar feeling settling in his stomach.
“We’ll see.”
*****
There were thirty-seven men in Parsons’ band, counting Parsons himself. All of them were standing before Darvo Nidiad now. Some looked calm, but others looked nervous. One of two looked outright afraid.
“Do you men realize that you’re joining the Army of Soulan?” Darvo asked. He looked from each man to the next, making eye contact. Slowly, and not always surely, each man nodded.
“You also realize that you’re subject to Army regulations and discipline, then?” Again, all nodded in understanding.
“I want you to think before you sign these papers,” Parno said. “Once you do, there’s no turning back. You will have sworn fealty to the Crown as Royal Troopers. Violating that oath will mean much harsher penalties than the crimes which you now stand accused. Much harsher.”
“We understand, milord,” Parsons spoke for them all. “Truth is, we all had our say when the idea came about. Them as wasn’t willin’ is gone their way. One’s as are left, they want to be here. They may be scared, but they’s willin’. Come’s to that, I’m a bit scared myself.”
“I don’t believe it,” Parno scoffed, and was rewarded with chuckles from Parsons’ own men. Parsons himself grinned, but said nothing.
“Very well, then,” Darvo nodded. “Form a line and we’ll get started.”
Parno watched as the official part of the deed was accomplished. He had decided that he would play as small a part as possible in the actual training of the men. Instead, he would train with them. Suffer the same hardships as they did. A small thing, perhaps, to some. But he hoped, among men such as these, that the little things would add up.
Eventually.
CHAPTER SIX
As autumn consumed the Plateau, Parno and Company continued to train their new soldiers. The small town of Cove, nestled among the highlands east of the Royal City, had proved a fertile training ground. The rugged terrain, mixed with a few rolling hills and even the occasional plain, provided an ideal mixture of geographical challenges needed to properly train soldiers to move and fight in almost any conditions.
There were difficulties, of course. Among the initial recruits, thirty-eight had been returned to the prisons, most of them in the first two weeks of training. The training itself had also suffered more than one setback, due in part to the fact that the men selected were, as a rule, individualists that were unaccustomed to working with or depending upon others.
“Just takes time, lad,” Darvo assured him. “Man has to re-learn things, that’s all. It takes time.”
And it had. But now three months into training the regiment was beginning to shape up nicely, he thought. The men knew their duties now, and performed them adequately, if not with the military precision one might have expected from a front line unit. Soon individual training would start as the men shook down into permanent companies, depending on where their greatest skill lay.
Doak Parsons and his men had, indeed, proved to be expert horsemen. With their basic training out of the way they would serve as instructors in horsemanship to those men who had little or no experience in the riding and care of horses.
In swordsmanship, there was no lack of competent men among the original company of Regulars. But in Cho Feng they had an expert swordsman as well, thus in that area there were also no worries.
Archery was another matter.
There were very few truly competent archers among the regiment and exactly one who knew how to build a serviceable long bow. As a result archer training was lagging but Parno was still confident that he would find the right man for that job, sooner or later.
And then there was the artillery. Two months into their station, Captain Danson Lars had arrived at the post, leading a small detail and hauling worn out machines. Six trebuchets, seven catapults, and an even dozen old ballistae, all with cracked and broken wood, frayed rope, and rusted mechanisms. Lars himself had a record as a troublemaker and his detail wasn’t a great deal better. Parno had expected trouble from them but after talking to Lars he had felt better.
“This is our last post, Milord,” Lars had said simply. “‘We either do well here or we’re cashiered. I’m sorry we’re all you get, but we’ll do our best if you’ll give us the chance.’” Parno had considered that for a moment, then nodded.
“‘First order of business is to get your equipment in working order, Captain,’” he had ordered. “‘If you can accomplish that then you’ve got your chance. Everyone else here is working on a second chance. I see no reason you and your men should be any different.”
It hadn’t been done over-night but Lars and his men, working largely with Brenack Wysin and a carpenter named Plank, had managed to salvage the antiquated artillery and restore them to battery. Parno couldn’t have asked for anything better.
Parno was more than pleased with the entire operation at that point. In fact, things had been going so well that Parno began wondering what was going to happen to offset their accomplishments.
*****
“Milord!”
Parno turned to see Lieutenant Sprigs hurrying towards him, face flushed.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Sir,” the young man said breathlessly. “There’s trouble in town, sir. Two of our men have been arrested by the constable and they’re threatening to hang them!”
“Which two men?” Parno wanted to know. Had someone among the prison ranks violated their parole?
“Sergeant Fitch and Lance Corporal Diggs, sir,” Sprigs informed him. “They’re not. . . .”
“Have my horse saddled at once,” Parno ordered, heading for his office at a trot. “And tell Major Willard I want a troop of his best men saddled and ready to ride in ten minutes!”
“Yes, milord!” Sprigs called to Parno’s back, then ran to
carry out his orders.
Parno’s mind was racing. What in the Kingdom was going on? Fitch and Diggs were two of Karls’ best men. Steady, reliable, and able soldiers. They had been assigned to escort the supply wagon to town and back and supervise the men responsible for the loading. He met Darvo Nidiad coming out of the house, obviously looking for him,
“Lad. . . .” he began.
“I know,” Parno assured him, never slowing. “I’ve already ordered a troop mounted. We’re going into town.” Parno ducked into the main hallway, retrieved his sword, and walked right back out again. His horse was being led over by a trooper, along with Darvo’s.
“Lad, let’s not be hasty, here,” Darvo cautioned.
“We’ve time for little else, it seems,” Parno replied, walking to his horse. In the background he was aware of the hurried movement and organized confusion of twenty men saddling their horses as fast as possible.
“We should be cautious, is all I’m saying,” Darvo told him, mounting his own horse. “We don’t know the exact situation in the town at the moment.”
“What do we know?” Parno demanded.
“The Quartermaster returned saying that Fitch and Diggs had been involved in an altercation with several of the townsmen,” Darvo informed him. “As I have it, from the Quartermaster, five men approached the wagons, attempting to rile the men into a fight. Our men ignored them, as ordered.”
“When insults didn’t provoke the men, the good citizens accused our men of disrespecting them and tried to get physical. Fitch intervened, and when the men attacked him, Diggs went to his aid.”
“The result?” Parno asked, as Willard led the now mounted cavalry troop towards his waiting liege.
“The civilians weren’t up to the challenge,” Darvo told him. “Unfortunately, two of them are dead and the rest in rather bad shape.”
“Perfect,” Parno growled. “Our men were behaving?”
“Absolutely,” Darvo confirmed. “And the prisoners who were assigned to the labor detail refrained from joining the brawl. They aren’t happy about that but they did follow your orders.”
“Good,” Parno nodded absently. “Let’s head into town, gentlemen,” Parno ordered as Willard rode up. “And make haste.”
*****
Parno galloped into town at the head of the short column, dust swirling around him as he drew reign in front of the constable’s office in the town of Cove. Townspeople scattered as the group thundered into town, then closed in around the horsemen as they came to a halt.
Parno dismounted, throwing his reigns to a trooper who had dismounted to hold his horse. Darvo dismounted as well as Parno turned to Willard.
“Wait here, and keep things calm,” he ordered. Willard nodded in return, remaining on his mount. Parno strode across the side walk with Darvo following closely and threw open the constable’s door.
Inside, Parno saw his two men, hands and feet bound by iron fetters, being assaulted by at least five men. Without a thought, Parno grabbed the nearest man, turning him, and hit him squarely in the face.
“HOLD!” Darvo shouted as the others turned to face the Prince. “You’re in the presence of Prince Parno McLeod! Any man who touches him will answer to the King!”
The men reacted as if they had been burned, backing away. Parno’s eyes fell on the Constable.
“If you have any notion of remaining a freeman beyond this day, there had better be an excellent excuse for this.” Parno’s words were clipped as he waved to the two beaten soldiers. “And if they aren’t out of those irons in the next ten seconds, you’ll be in them inside the minute.”
“These men. . . .” the constable began, only to be cut off.
“I’m not asking,” Parno said coldly. Colonel Willard!” Parno called loudly over his shoulder.
“Aye, Milord?” Willard answered from outside.
“I need five of your men in here, please!” Parno called.
“On the way, Milord!” Willard replied. In seconds a squad of large, very angry Soulan troopers, led by a sergeant, filled the small office.
“I want these men in fetters,” Parno ordered, looking at the sergeant. “They’ll be returning to the fort with us to face charges of assaulting men of the King’s Army.”
Grim faced troopers took charge of the five men who’d been administering the beating and escorted them outside. Parno looked again at the Constable.
“Your time is almost up,” he said coldly. Ashen faced the Constable nodded to his deputy, who quickly freed the two beaten soldiers.
“Are you men hurt?” Parno asked, his voice softening slightly.
“We can walk, I think, Milord,” Fitch said, his voice heavy with pain.
“Wait outside,” Parno ordered. The two men saluted and limped to the doorway.
“They’re under law!” the Constable exclaimed. “You’ve no right, milord, to interfe. . . .” His protests died unfinished as cold grey eyes fell on his own.
“I’m still waiting for that explanation,” Parno informed him coldly.
“Those criminals came in here disrespecting honest folk and started a brawl!” the Constable spat out. “I enforce the law here, under the provisions of the King’s Bench!”
“Criminals?” Parno asked, his voice deceptively mild.
“We know about those heathen out there at your fort!” The Constable hissed. He knew that Parno wasn’t well thought of by the rest of the Royal Family and risked being surly because of it. “And I won’t have them in this town, disrupting the piece. They killed two men of this town and I aim to see them hang for it! Was they still in prison, where they belonged, this wouldn’t have happened. You’ve no one to blame but yourself. Milord.” The last word was spoken almost as a slur. Darvo stiffened, but Parno held out his hand, stilling the older man.
“Colonel Willard!” Parno called again. “Join us at the door, if you please!” Within seconds a furious looking Willard was at the office door.
“Milord?” Karls’ face was distorted with rage over the treatment of his two troopers.
“Would you identify the two criminals, please, Constable, to Major Willard?”
“Those two right there!” the Constable pointed out Fitch and Diggs, both being ministered to by a pair of their fellow troopers.
“Who are those men, Major?” Parno asked.
“Sergeant Fitch, milord, and Lance Corporal Diggs. Both good men, milord,” Willard added, almost defensively.
“How long have they been under your command?” Parno asked.
“Both men have served under my command for the past two years, milord,” Willard’s voice betrayed his confusion. The Prince knew all this.
“Has either man ever been a prisoner of the King’s Justice?” Parno asked mildly.
“No, sir!” Willard seethed. “Both men are career soldiers in the Soulan Army!” Parno nodded, turning to the Constable, who suddenly seemed less sure of himself.
“That will be all, Colonel, thank you,” Parno said, never taking his eyes from the lawman. “Constable, you are guilty of aiding and abetting the attack on two men in the King’s service, while in the normal performance of their duties. The penalty for that crime is quite severe, as I’m sure you’re aware. What say you?”
“Before you answer,” Parno smiled, though it wasn’t a pretty smile, “I suggest that the word ‘criminal’ be scrubbed from your vocabulary for the time being. As I think you just learned, both of those men are not only soldiers, but decorated soldiers.”
“Milord, I. . . .” the Constable licked suddenly dry lips, unsure of what to do or say. “I. . .that is we. . .it was understood that the men of your command were criminals, sire,” the Constable’s voice was respectful now, as the import of what he’d done, or at least allowed to happen, hit him.
“It might interest you to know that the men who stood by and took no actions were the ‘criminals’ you so detest, Constable,” Parno told the sweating man coldly. “Your actions, or perhaps merely inaction,
have shown you unfit for your post.”
“The death of those two men is directly attributable to their assaulting two of the King’s men, again, while fulfilling their service to the crown. I assume you saw the attack?” The Constable’s face paled at that.
“I. . .that is, I was across the street and down a ways, Milord, when the ruckus broke out,” he replied carefully. “I hurried right along when the commotion came about.”
“And did you make any move to prevent the attack on my men once you arrived?” Parno demanded. “Or did you, perhaps, participate in the attack?”
