by N. C. Reed
“None of us would have,” Brock’s face was hard. “But the facts are there, plain and simple.”
“Who’s to take command of the Army?” Davies asked.
“Parno McLeod,” Brock said flatly. Davies’ face flushed.
“You can’t be serious!” His tone bordered on disbelief, if not outright derision.
“Watch how you say that, General,” Brock warned. “And be aware that Prince Parno, with a command of less than five thousand men, most of them militia and prisoners, defeated a Nor army numbering at least fifty thousand strong just days ago at Cumberland Gap.”
“He did?” Davies’ face showed its shock. “I assumed that the forces from 1st Corp-”
“Arrived in time to clean up the field, nothing more,” Brock said firmly. “It seems that the Black Sheep Prince is something of a lion on the battlefield,” he almost grinned. Almost.
“When will he arrive?” Davies asked.
“He’s on his way now I’m given to understand, but that’s not my problem,” Brock shrugged. “My problem is Therron McLeod. And his regiment. And his personality cult.”
“This news will end his personality cult,” Davies said grimly, holding the dispatch he’d been given in his hand. “No one will follow him now.”
“Are you sure of that, General?” Brock asked. “I’m not. Nor is His Majesty. Hence the need for. . .discretion.”
“What do I tell the others, then?” Davies asked.
“Prince Therron is ill,” Brock shrugged. “He isn’t aware of how ill just yet, but that’s my concern. He’ll be taken back to Nasil where the King will deal with him as is necessary. That’s all I know. All I need to know.” There was a finality in his tone that almost dared Davies to challenge him on that point.
“Very well,” Davies refused the challenge. “Give me an hour and I’ll have troops in place to deal with the Prince’s Own. Will that be sufficient?”
“It will,” Brock nodded. “I’ll take care of the rest. Per the King’s order, you’re in command until Prince Parno arrives. You have his full confidence and support. His own words.”
“Please extend my thanks to His Majesty,” Davies bowed his head humbly. “Now, I have arrangements to make.”
*****
Therron McLeod looked up crossly from his desk as General Brock entered his tent without announcement or permission. He was followed by four of his own men,
“Even the Inspector General is required to observe protocol, Brock,” Therron all but snarled.
“I’m about to,” Brock said firmly. “Prince Therron McLeod, by order of the King, Tammon McLeod, you are relieved of your duties as Lord Marshall of the Armies of Soulan and will return with me at once to Nasil, where you will await the King’s pleasure.” Brock motioned his men forward without waiting for a reply.
“What is the meaning of this!” Therron shot to his feet. “Guards!”
“Save your breath, your treacherous swine,” Brock snarled. “Your men are nowhere near, and in no shape to come to your assistance. Come quietly and leave with some dignity and respect intact, or you can allow the soldiers outside to see you drug from your quarters for treason.”
“Treason!” Therron shouted. “On who’s authority!”
“I may have mentioned the King, when I entered?” Brock replied. “Bring him,” he ordered the quartet of men. Brock was in no mood for dallying with a man who would refuse his King’s orders. Or place the entire kingdom in danger because of some kind of sibling rivalry.
The former Lord Marshall’s ambulance, his personal transport, was already waiting outside. Therron noted that the driver was not his normal man. A glance around him confirmed that none of his men remained around him.
“I’ll have your head on a mantel piece for this, Brock,” Therron warned before he was shoved into the ambulance. The four guards followed him aboard.
“We shall see,” Brock replied, his voice taunt with anger. He nodded to the driver who clucked the team into motion, headed south. The company of troops assigned to the General's command followed save for the squad that would accompany Brock.
“General, Godspeed,” he turned to Davies. “Prince Parno should be here in a few days, a week at most.”
“We’ll await his arrival before making any large movements,” Davies nodded.
“A word of advice, General,” Brock decided to try and help Davies, if he could. “The boy will listen to you if you don’t treat him like a simpleton. He’s very bright and has an excellent mind for both tactical and strategic thinking. And despite his victory at the Gap you’ll find that he is in no way arrogant or unapproachable.”
“I’ll remember,” Davies promised.
“I must go,” Brock motioned for his horse, and a trooper moved to bring the mount near. “God be with you and the Army, General Davies.”
“Thank you, sir,” Davies saluted. Brock sketched a return salute, and then was off at a gallop, trailing the ambulance.
“Well,” Davies said, more to himself than anyone else. “I guess we’ll see.”
*****
Memmnon McLeod walked the high walls of the palace grounds in Nasil, as he did each morning. It was his quiet time. The time he used to try and clear his mind for the day’s duties ahead of him.
These days, he needed that.
The war was going badly and no amount of bravado, false cheer, or patriotic fervor could disguise that fact. It was doubtful that the people in the southern reaches of the kingdom knew the complete disaster that had befallen Soulan, but word was spreading. And all the provinces knew their militia units had been called to duty.
New units were even now being trained and Memmnon wished with all his might that Parno’s instructors were able to be the training officers for these new units. What Parno and his men had done was nothing short of remarkable.
All the wishes in the world would not make it so, however. And some of the new units, as well as the old, were at Cove Canton undergoing the rugged individual training that Parno’s own men had gone through.
If we had more time, we could field an entire corps of men so trained, he thought. But time is the one commodity that we no longer have access to.
He looked at the sun, estimating the time. By now, if things went according to schedule, Therron would be on his way back to Nasil, technically under arrest. Memmnon still had his doubts about how all that would play out in the end. It had been Tammon’s decision not to mention the treason that both father and son suspected of the Lord Marshall. Former Lord Marshall, Memmnon corrected himself.
Which made him think of Parno, even now moving west with all that remained of his magnificent command that had served so well at the Gap. It was hoped that Parno would be able to turn things around in the west. If he could stop the Nor advance, let alone push it back, then it would buy precious time for other movements to be made.
But could he do it? There was no question that Tammon had laid a terrible burden upon the shoulders of his youngest son. A son that he had despised from the moment he was born. They all had. The entire royal family, and by extension the entire household, had ostracized Parno his entire life, blaming him for the death of their much loved Queen who had died due to complications of childbirth minutes after Parno was born.
The only exception had been Darvo Nidiad, Parno’s military retainer and trainer. The old soldier had served as Parno’s surrogate father, giving him the love and attention that should have rightfully come from the rest of them.
And now Darvo was gone. Killed in action at the Gap.
Memmnon hoped that Parno would be able to cope without the steady influence of Nidiad’s hand. True, he had other loyal retainers, including the foreigner Cho Feng and now both the Willard brothers. And his men, those who remained of Parno’s own Black Sheep regiment, were loyal to the death. Memmnon was convinced that the entire group would charge the gates of Hell with nothing but a bucket of water if Parno commanded it.
At least partly because they
knew Parno would lead the way.
And there was the difference, Memmnon nodded to himself, between Parno and Therron. Where Therron had led from the rear, traveling in a caravan of servants, escorts and hangers on, Parno rode with his men. One officer as an aide, one enlisted man as a runner and an escort of eighteen hand-picked men selected by Darvo Nidiad himself. When Parno’s men slept on the ground, so did Parno.
That was the kind of leader that fighting men respected. The army was badly in need of such a leader and Memmnon hoped that Parno would have the time needed to gain the confidence of the two army corps now engaged in trying to hold against the Nor advance into the Tinsee valley.
Abruptly he stopped, drawing in a deep, cleansing breath. Today’s walk hadn’t worked. His head was still full of trials and troubles, but it was time for him to get to work. He paused for one more minute, looking north. North to where Parno would be approaching the army in the field.
“Good luck, brother.”
CHAPTER TWO
-
It was the second morning after the departure of the Inspector General with Prince Therron that Parno arrived at Soulan Field Army Headquarters at the head of his column. By now word had spread that Therron had been taken back to Nasil in ‘ill health’. Parno’s arrival was expected by the army.
General Davies stepped outside his tent at the call of his sentry and snapped to a salute as the young prince stepped down from his mount.
“We can dispense with any amenities and niceties, General,” Parno said at once, offering his hand. “I’m Parno McLeod.”
A stunned Davies dropped his salute and shook the much younger man’s hand.
“Welcome, sir,” Davies said.
“Thank you. Do you have time to brief us on the current situation?” Parno asked as Enri and Karls Willard stepped to Parno’s side, along with Cho Feng.
“O. . .of course, sir,” Davies nodded, indicating the tent he’d just stepped out of. “Step inside if you will.”
“Sergeant Berry, detail,” Karls ordered and Berry nodded, posting his men around the tent.
“Major, have the men tend their horses and get them chow. Have fresh mounts saddled for the staff and the escort,” Karls ordered Seymour, who nodded and set about carrying about his orders. Enri watched, proud of his younger brother though he would die on the end of a pike before admitting it. At least to Karls.
The four men entered the large tent and gathered around a large table where maps of the area were spread.
“At the moment milord the Nor lines stretch from the river east of Pari, to just west of Dreeden. Their line basically occupies an old trade route. We have managed to hold them there these last two days, but. . .I have to admit, sir, that’s more their doing than ours.”
“How so?” Parno asked, eyeing the map.
“The Nor haven’t pushed very hard, sir, these last three, now four days,’ Davies reported. “They don’t seem to lack the manpower, so I have to believe that they’ve out run their supply train, at least for the moment. I can’t think of any other reason for them to stay put when they know they have the advantage over us.”
“Losing fifty thousand men in three days might make anyone stop and think,” Enri Willard commented. “Perhaps they’re being cautious now because without the army you destroyed at the Gap their flank may be exposed. They may be taking this time to re-orient for that possibility.”
“Agreed,” Feng nodded. “The loss of their eastern force has to come as a shock. They cannot take the chance that a similar action might turn their flank and expose their lines of communication.”
“All speculation, gentlemen,” Parno said. “Good speculation, but speculation none-the-less. General, have you any scouts in the areas to the Nor left? Are they using the river as an anchor for their lines?”
“They are, milord,” Davies nodded, impressed already by the young man that was his new boss. “We’ve tried twice to turn them, but both times had to withdraw. The numbers are on their side, I’m afraid.”
“Understood,” Parno nodded. “Very well. I’ll want to ride the front and see things for myself. What reserves do we have?”
“Ride the front?” Davies looked shocked. “Milord, sir, you brother, he never-”
“Never compare me to my brother, General,” Parno said softly, but the coldness in his voice, his eyes, were loud and clear. “Reserves?” he asked again.
“Sir,” Davies recovered. “Sir, we have the 5th Cavalry in reserve as well as the 4th Mounted Infantry. Both are positioned near the center, in order to respond to any breakthroughs.”
“Very well. Tell me about the Nor right flank. Near Dreeden, you said?”
“Yes, sir. They’ve not occupied the town itself though I’ve no idea why. Their lines end about ten miles east of the town. I have scouts there watching for any movement but so far they have remained static.”
“Are they entrenching?” Parno asked.
“No sir,” Davies shook his head. “They are basically in camp mode.”
“I see. Karls, collect Mister Parsons, will you please?”
“Milord,” Karls nodded.
“General have the 6th Cavalry and 5th Mounted returned from the Gap as yet?” Parno asked.
“Yes, milord,” Davies nodded. “They have been off line two days, refitting and resting.”
“Very well. Leave them out of the line, barring an overwhelming attack on our lines. What of the other cavalry divisions in 1st and 2nd Corps? Are they on the battle line?”
“Not exactly on the line, sir, but attached to our flanks in case the Nor try to get around us.”
“How well are we anchored on the river?” Parno asked.
“Quite well, actually,” Davies informed him. “The lull in the fighting has allowed us to fortify quite well in that area, as well as the rest of the line.”
“How well is our artillery sited?”
“We’re out of effective range of their lines at the moment, sir,” Davies admitted. “We’re established to interdict lines and lanes of approach to our own lines.”
“Good enough,” Parno nodded. “I want the. . .2nd Cavalry? here at the eastern end of our line? I want them pulled off the line, as carefully and quietly as possible. If the line there is anchored well, then turning our flank there is unlikely. If you have infantry off line, or militia still reporting, you can use them to re-enforce the anchor points along the river, but I want the 2nd back here by tonight, ready for action on the day after morrow.”
“Sir?” Davies looked puzzled.
“I’ll explain tonight, depending on what I see today,” Parno promised. Just then Karls returned with Doak Parsons.
“Mister Parsons, take a look at this,” Parno pointed to the map, indicating the Nor right. “I’m told the Nor along this stretch of line are in camp, rather than entrenched. I want you to verify that and, as far as practicable, see how far that condition goes. Do not create an engagement. I’d prefer if the Nor never knew you were there.”
“Yes, sir,” Parsons nodded. “Take us a bit, milord. We’ll need to swing around-”
“I’ll expect a report from you sometime tomorrow, before noon if possible but early afternoon is acceptable. Is that doable?”
“Should be, milord,” Parsons nodded after a minute.
“Then be about it, and Godspeed.” Parsons sketched a salute and left the tent.
“Gentlemen, let’s get mounted,” Parno ordered. “We have a lot of ground to cover today. General,” he turned to Davies, “you’re in command. I have runners who will stay with you should you need me for any reason. We’ll return before dark, I should imagine. If not, then I’ll send a runner letting you know where we are.”
“Yes, milord,” Davies nodded, still stunned at the speed with which the young prince had taken charge. His brother would still have been ‘resting’. The General left the tent behind them, and watched as the men mounted up, their saddlery and the escort’s already having been placed on fresh mount
s.
“We’ll be back,” Parno promised, and then set his heels to his mount. The small column darted away, Parno himself at the head.
Davies watched them until they were almost out of sight before remembering he had orders of his own to see to.
“Runner!”
*****
Parno rode the lines, looking over the condition of the men, occasionally stopping to speak with individual soldiers and with line commanders. The morale of the army, overall, was still very good considering what they had been through. Parno inquired about supplies getting forward, medical treatment for the injured and general conditions along the entire front. The inspection served two primary purposes.
First, it allowed Parno to gauge the state of the troopers of the two army corps engaged on this front. He was satisfied that they were still combat capable, though tired. Their morale was suffering, but not broken. Overall, he liked what he saw.
Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it allowed the men on the line to see their new Lord Marshall of the Army riding the lines on horseback and actually taking time to ask individual soldiers how they were faring. Were they eating well? Were they getting any rest? Was their equipment in good shape? Questions that Therron would never have bothered to ask even had he ever deigned to speak to the common soldiers in the field. Word spread through the ranks of Parno’s visits almost as fast as he could ride the line.
His first look had been at the right flank, anchored on the Sand River Slough, near the Tinsee itself. The line was solid and artillery well sited. Newly promoted Major Lars inspected the pieces and the placement himself and assured Parno they were satisfactory.
By the time they had reached the middle of the lines, Parno realized he would never manage to ride the entire line before dark and decided to make camp. Sergeant Berry was almost apoplectic at the thought of Parno being encamped so close to the front but was accustomed to being overruled. Enri was more vocal in his objection but soon realized there was no sense in arguing.
The rest, far more accustomed to their Commander’s habits, were already making plans for camp. The unit to their front was the 4th Brigade of the 3rd Infantry Division, part of Second Corps. The unit had suffered heavily in the fighting withdrawal down the valley and their morale was possibly lower than most. Word spread through the unit quickly that the Lord Marshall would be sharing their fires and their mess that evening.
