by N. C. Reed
“I understand, sir,” Colonel William ‘Billy’ Booth nodded. As Raines’ Chief of Staff, Booth was both younger and of lower rank than most of his contemporaries. Chief of Staff for a Corps Commander was generally a Brigadier’s post.
Booth was one of the smartest younger officers Raines had seen in nearly a generation, however. The younger man hadn’t minded taking the job without the rank and Raines was glad to have him. Booth was not only smart, but a talented tactician, and good strategic thinker.
“Let’s head back to headquarters,” Raines said suddenly. He was tired and his headache wasn’t easing any. After weeks of worry and waiting, it was a wonder his head didn’t ache constantly, or that an ulcer hadn’t eaten his stomach completely.
“Of course, General,” Booth replied and nodded to the escort’s commander. The troopers fell into trail, following at a respectful distance, but close enough to intervene if a threat appeared.
“You’re still worried about boat crossings, I take it?” Booth asked once they were on their way. Raines nodded.
“Yes. It’s the one thing we can’t exercise at least some control over.”
“Sir, we’ve done all that can be done,” Booth reasoned, “and the cavalry are wearing out their horses keeping the river banks patrolled. We’ve established watch posts all along the banks as well.”
“I know,” Raines sighed again. “I swear I think if they’d just do something, I’d feel better. The damn waiting is what’s difficult.”
“I agree waiting is hard,” Booth replied, “but I’d rather they didn’t attack at all. Not here. We’d be hard pressed as you said to contain them once they establish a foothold and while we’re fighting that one, they might well just launch another one.”
“I’ve thought of that as well,” Raines nodded. “I’ve decided that if there is word of any river crossing, the cavalry will have to deal with it. We may send one mounted division as well, if needed, but I want at least two divisions here in Shelby at all times. They can cross the river in boats easy enough, but they’ll have to supply any army that gets across, and that means they’ll need the bridge.”
“They can forage off the land, sir,” Booth pointed out.
“Up to a point,” Raines nodded. “But we’ll be burning crops and what not as we go if we’re forced into a retreat. If there’s nothing for them to eat, they’ll have to try and resupply them. The River Squadron, once it knows where the beach head is, can help interdict those supplies by boat. No,” Raines shook his head, “they need this bridge to mount a successful campaign.”
“We’ll hold it, sir,” Booth’s voice had quiet confidence.
“I think so,” Raines agreed, “but what damage will be done elsewhere while we do?”
Booth had no answer for that and the two rode on in silence.
“I want you to compose a request for the Marshall,” Raines spoke quietly as they neared their headquarters. “In the event that war breaks out and there is an attack on us here in Shelby, I want General Herrick’s Corps to assume responsibility for defending the Misi province if the Wildmen or the Nor force a boat crossing of the Great River.”
“Yes, sir,” Booth scrawled a few notes in his field book. “But, sir. . . .”
“I know,” Raines interrupted. “They are unlikely to move his Corps, but there’s always a chance. We cannot hold the bridge and be responsible for so much territory. We simply don’t have the manpower.”
“Herrick will have his regulars, along with at least two Militia divisions. He will be able to effectively patrol the Misi province along the Great River. We’ll continue to patrol the river north of Shelby.”
“I’ll see to it, sir,” Booth agreed. His voice betrayed his thoughts on the subject.
“If they don’t, Billy, then we’ll do the best we can,” Raines shrugged. “But I’m not at all sure that will be good enough.”
*****
Later that day, Booth knocked hurriedly on Raines’ door.
“Sir,” Booth looked pale. “Our scouts report movement along the far shoreline.”
“What sort of movement?” Raines asked, rising, and reaching for his belt.
“Horsemen, sir,” Booth informed him. “They’re just watching for now, it appears.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Raines’ horse was waiting, along with his escort. He and Booth mounted quickly and headed for the observation tower near the bridge. Their mood was pensive, to say the least, and no one spoke.
Upon arrival Raines practically leaped from his horse, leaving it to his escort to secure the animal, and hurriedly climbed the stair to the tall observation deck. The Captain on duty saluted stiffly when he saw Raines appear.
“Carry on, Captain,” Raines threw a sloppy return of the salute, “and mind that the Nor may have us in their glasses. No more saluting.”
“Sorry, sir,” the young Captain replied, shame-faced.
“No worries, Captain,” Raines smiled. “What’s the situation?”
“We’ve seen movement along the shoreline, sir,” the Captain pointed unobtrusively, “and there is now a rather large contingent of troops near the far end of the bridge.”
Raines nodded and bent his head to the glass.
Sure enough, he easily spotted the body of troops. At least a brigade he decided after observing them for a few moments. He frowned. The enemy troops were milling about rather carelessly, taking no precaution whatever to avoid being seen.
“Colonel,” Raines spoke to Booth without turning. “Send runners immediately to all field commands. Two runners per command in fact, on different routes,” he added. “Be on guard for river crossings. At this time the troops on the far shore appear to be designed to keep our attention focused on them, and nothing more.”
“Yes, sir,” Booth scribbled furiously.
“Have Brigadier Simmons report to me here, at once,” Raines ordered. Simmons commanded an independent Cavalry Brigade. Not assigned to a division, Simmons took his orders directly from Raines.
“I’ll see to it, sir,” Booth nodded, and hurried down the stairs. Raines looked at the Captain.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Emmett Wilson, sir! 2nd Recon.”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind my company for a while, Captain Wilson.”
“Glad to have you with us, sir. Coffee?”
*****
Brigadier Alan Simmons reported to the tower within fifteen minutes. Raines was looking through the glass as the younger general made his way up the steps.
“You sent for me, sir?” Simmons asked.
“Yes,” Raines turned from the scope. “I want you to send heavy patrols north and south of our position, along the Great River. There’s a brigade, at least, of enemy troops across the bridge from us at this time, but they aren’t making any attempt to disguise their presence, nor to organize an attack. I don’t like that.”
“I see,” Simmons said thoughtfully. “I’ll send one regiment in each direction, with a third ready to ride at once, if that suits your needs, sir.”
“That’s fine,” Raines nodded, pleased. “I want them to patrol at least ten miles out. I’d prefer that they spread out a bit and perhaps make cold camp at the end of the patrol while establishing a few listening posts along the way. Can you see to that? Some of the local militia should be most helpful with that.”
“I’ll detail a company of militia with each patrol, sir,” Simmons nodded, thinking furiously. “That should allow for several posts, and runners for each.”
“Very well, General. You have your orders.”
“Sir,” Simmons stiffened, but did not salute, then hurried back the way he had come.
Raines turned back to the glass, eying the far shore once more. Hearing boots on the stairs, he turned to see Booth rejoining him, along with several runners.
“Messages away, sir,” Booth informed him.
“Good. Send a message to Nasil, if you will. Two couriers, well mounte
d, and different routes. Inform the Lord Marshall of the following.” Raines quickly outlined his actions so far.
“And reiterate my request for General Herrick to move into Misi in support. If my hunch is right we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Sir!” Captain Wilson called. “Movement on the bridge!” Raines spun quickly, laying his glass on the bridge.
“They’re burning the far barricades,” Raines murmured. “Pass the word, no firing without my order. They’re trying to goad us into revealing our artillery positions. Keep them under observation, Captain. If we don’t respond, they may well try to continue working forward.”
“How far do we let them get before we fire, sir?” Wilson risked asking.
“We’ll see,” Raines replied. Turning once more to Booth he spoke quickly.
“Add this to the message and get the runners away as quickly as possible. I have a feeling this is the beginning.” As Booth hurried on his way, leaving the runners for the General, Raines turned his eyes once more to the bridge. Smoke plumes were now clearly visible to the naked eye.
How far indeed?
*****
By the noon hour, enemy troops had worked their way a third of the way across the bridge, burning and wrecking the barricades that Raines’ men had labored to erect. The job of those barricades was to slow an attacking army. With a third of the way now cleared, Raines had a decision to make. Sighing, he turned to the waiting runners.
“Order Brigadier Foss to prepare his artillery to engage, but hold their fire until I give the word, then return here,” he ordered the first. As that man hurried on his way, Raines turned to another runner.
“Inform Brigadier James he is to take two companies of archers, another of crossbow men, and two companies of swordsmen onto the bridge. Have the archers engage the enemy burning party at maximum range. He is to avoid creating a major engagement. His objective is to slow, or stop if possible, the destruction of the barricades. If the enemy flees, he is not, repeat not, to pursue, but to return to our lines. Repeat that.” The runner rattled of the orders exactly. Raines nodded.
“Off with you, then.”
In minutes the first runner was back.
“Brigadier Foss reports ready to fire, sir. He also stated that the enemy are very close to one of his preplanned target zones. The maximum range, he admits, but doable. He can engage on your orders.”
“Very well,” Raines nodded. He turned his glass to the bridge, where James’ was starting across the bridge. He was not surprised to see James himself in the lead.
“Damn that headstrong boy,” he murmured to himself. Quincy James was Raines’ nephew, son of his older sister. He was proud of the lad, to be sure, but he had to learn that he no longer commanded a regiment, but a full brigade of men. The days of his leading from the front were supposed to be past.
As Raines watched James led his chosen men along the narrow walkways left in the barricades for just such an occasion, James halted his men behind one of four major strong points along the Soulan side of the bridge, points designed to allow the Soulan troops to make a stand along the bridge itself. Raines saw the archers make take their positions.
On James’ order, a flight of arrows launched from the line, lofting toward the enemy troops. Some fell short, a few even went long, but the majority of them fell in among the enemy troopers. Raines watched as the Nor and their Wildmen allies reacted in consternation. Busy with their destruction of the barricade, they hadn’t noticed James and his men approach.
“Enemy runner on the bridge, sire,” Captain Watkins reported, pointing. Raines looked for himself and nodded.
“Business will pick up, now, I’d wager.”
As he and Wilson watched, the enemy troopers formed a ragged line and their own archers readied. Before they could fire, however, another volley from James’ men caught them. This one was better placed and hit the enemy before they were organized. The effect was almost instantaneous. Several dropped, hit by Soulan arrows. Others bent to help fallen comrades. Still others turned to retreat. A few stalwart lads loosed arrows of their own, but without knowing exactly where the Soulan troops were, they landed off the mark.
James’ third flight landed then and even the stalwart among the enemy had had enough. Grabbing their wounded, the enemy troops ran for their side of the bridge. Raines noted that several were left behind, such was their hurry to escape another volley.
James loosed one more salvo, then ordered his men back, following his orders, but the Nor along the shoreline had spotted them. Just as the last of the men were leaving the position, Nor catapults lofted several rounds, including flaming pitch. Raines watched helplessly as the pitch and boulders fell where his nephew had only seconds before been standing. Smoke obscured the view and the General was forced to wait and see the results of the enemy fire.
After what seemed an eternity Soulan troopers emerged from the smoke, hurrying back to their own lines. Several men carried fallen comrades across their shoulders whilst their fellow soldiers covered the retreat. Raines was pleased to note that the men did not appear rattled, nor in a rout. They were simply following orders. Being under fire had not broken them.
Finally, Raines saw his nephew emerge from the smoke, a Soulan trooper thrown across his own shoulder, accompanied by two swordsmen. James’ face was covered in soot as was his uniform, but he appeared uninjured.
“Thank God,” Raines murmured. He didn’t relish having to inform his sister that he had ‘allowed’ her favorite son to be killed or injured. He watched as the small unit made its way back to friendly lines then sent a runner to order James to report to him at the tower.
Minutes later a soot-covered Brigadier James, still smelling of sweat and smoke and a bit out of breath, arrived on the floor of the tower just under the observation platform. Raines had commandeered the room for this meeting.
“Brigadier James, reporting as ordered, sir.”
“You idiot,” Raines snarled, eyeing his nephew with a jaundiced eye. “I didn’t mean for you to lead the attack.” James, unrepentant, merely grinned.
“I chose to interpret the orders loosely, sir.”
“Yes, well,” Raines broke eye contact. “Just bear in mind if you will, for the future, that I’m the one who will have to face the wrath of your mother should you get your fool self killed!”
“Sorry, sir,” James said contritely. “I admit, that didn’t enter into my decision making.”
“Well, it was well done in any case. Casualties?” James usual enthusiasm dampened some.
“Seven killed, fifteen wounded. Two of those probably won’t last the night out. Pitch got them.” His eyes spoke volumes and Raines nodded. He knew what pitch could do to a man.
“I’m sorry about your men, Quin,” Raines said softly, using James’ childhood nickname. James shrugged.
“Fortunes of war, sir,” he replied philosophically. “We’ll lose a lot more before this business is finished.”
“I’m afraid that’s truer than you know,” Raines agreed. “Well, see to your men and yourself. There’s still plenty of light left. The Nor, or the Wilds, may try again.”
“I admit, I was a bit let down in the Wildmen,” James told his uncle, head tilted to one side. “I thought they’d stay and fight after all I’d heard of them. Maybe we’re worrying about nothing where they’re concerned.”
“Perhaps,” Raines nodded, “but let’s not assume anything of the sort for now. Soulan hasn’t been at war with the Wildlands in over a century and that was a brief, though bloody, encounter. Back then they were ferocious warriors and would sooner die in place than surrender or retreat.”
“I won’t take them lightly,” James promised. “With your permission?”
“Granted. Go take care of yourself, Quin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Memmnon had taken a break from looking over the weekly reports from his Chief Constables. With war in the offing he had ordered all of his regional and Prov
incial Marshals to be on the lookout for anything that might indicate subversive or enemy actions in the Kingdom. If the Nor were planning to attack, then there was no reason to believe that saboteurs and spies wouldn’t be a part of their war plan. Soulan certainly made use of them.
As he walked along the courtyard he noticed a flurry of activity near the inner gates. Curious, he headed that way.
“Milord!” a sentry called, seeing the Crown Prince heading his way. “Urgent courier from General Davies, milord! The Nor are attacking in strength at Loville!” Memmnon hastened his step at that, hurrying to the exhausted courier who was just now dismounting from his horse. The man faltered, almost falling, before another sentry grabbed him. The courier’s horse was also done in, foam flecking it’s coat, and it’s tongue hanging.
