by N. C. Reed
Obviously it was time to change that.
Still, Parno was troubled. Even if both men had been willing to support Therron’s claim to the throne, there were still the Provincial Militias to consider. Parno stopped short at that, his mind racing.
Except in time of war, like now, Provincial Militias were controlled and commanded by Provincial Governors. Men with extraordinary powers in time of peace to make decisions affecting their entire province and every citizen in it. True, their power was subject to the rule of the King and the Royal Decrees, a system of laws that applied to every corner of the Kingdom. Primarily however, the Decrees were instruments of protection of the rights of individual citizens of the realm. Not to limit or control the power of Provincial Governors.
What if Therron had convinced some of the governors to support his cause? How many might either refuse to send their troops to aid the King, or even lend them instead to Therron’s power grab? If even half of them sat idle or threw their weight behind Therron, then. . . .
Parno felt his head swim. There had never been a coup in Soulan’s long history. Never even a hint of one for that matter. Always, since the time of Tyree, the succession had been assured. A fact of life.
Parno was suddenly gripped by a wave of sadness that it would be someone of his family that had decided to break that long held tradition of stability. Truly, the family of Tammon McLeod was cursed.
Maybe it’s time for another dynasty on the throne, he found himself thinking morosely. He wondered how deep the rot went in Soulan.
He needed to send a message to Memmnon before tomorrow anyway, so he decided to include these new thoughts in a separate letter. Sighing in disappointment, he headed for his own tent. He had a lot to do before morning.
*****
Therron McLeod stood before his father insolently silent, fuming at his ‘mistreatment’.
“Nothing to say, Therron?” Tammon asked, the edge in his voice the only indication of his anger.
“What is there to say?” Therron finally replied. “You’ve decided to favor Parno for whatever reason, and to do that, I had to be removed.”
“Even now you don’t see the danger, not to mention the disobedience in what you’ve done, do you?” Tammon spoke a bit more harshly this time.
“I am, or was, the Army Commander,” Therron retorted. “I evaluated Parno’s information as baseless and the panicky reaction of an untrained boy. The force I sent was more than sufficient, as you yourself proved, Sire.” Therron managed to make the word sound like a slur.
“They were sufficient only because of the supreme sacrifice and tactical brilliance of the brother who’s report you cast aside so readily!” Tammon’s storm finally broke. “The only good thing that has come from your being Lord Marshall in this entire affair is that I acceded to your belief that he and his men would be useless in battle. Had I assigned him and his men somewhere else, then a Nor field army would like as not be occupying Nasil this very night!”
The King visibly calmed himself, resisting the urge to rub his chest. Damn his weak heart. It would betray him just when he was working up a good tantrum.
“So because he was in the right place, at the right time, he will make a more formidable Lord Marshall than the man who has trained and equipped the army that defends us?” Therron almost sneered.
“I hope he will make a better Lord Marshall,” Tammon nodded, calmer now. “But he finds himself in that position because of you, not him. He did not desire command and refused at first to even consider it. In part I’m sure due to the death of Darvo Nidiad, leaving aside our treatment of him over the span of his life.” He leaned forward.
“Make no mistake, son of mine. You stand here before me, defrocked and disowned because of your own arrogance and actions and nothing else. Leaving aside for the sake of the kingdom your plans to make sure it was you that sat upon the throne one day rather than your brother!”
Therron’s eyes widened before he could stop them, giving himself away. He managed to get his surprise under control, but it was far too late.
“Surely you did not think you could engineer such subversion as you planned and I would take no notice, Therron,” Tammon’s voice was gentle this time. Mocking.
“I have no idea of what you speak,” Therron managed to keep his voice steady. “The very idea is repugnant to me.”
“I see,” Tammon sat back, motioning to the Chamber Warden. The door behind him opened to admit Jon Keen, Provincial Governor of the Alma province.
“Former Governor Keen has a very different tale to tell than you, my son,” Tammon managed not to gloat. “You see, after your brother’s visit to that area, Memmnon dispatched a unit of King’s Constables to check into the situation there. You might recall that? Yes?” Therron nodded, hesitantly.
“It seems that their investigation was. . .particularly successful,” Tammon informed his middle son. “So much so that their investigation into corruption in the Provincial Government led them to former Governor Keen himself, who, thinking that being under your protection meant that he was untouchable, was somewhat more. . .talkative, that he should have been.”
Therron shot a menacing glance at Keen, who returned the look stolidly. He was caught out, with no real option left to him. Therron McLeod had made him many promises and delivered on none of them. He owed the man no loyalty as he saw it.
“It saddens me that it would be my own family that would subvert the long and unbroken custom of peaceful ascension to the throne of Soulan.” The sadness was evident in Tammon’s eyes as well as his voice. “Somewhere, I went wrong in raising my offspring. Very wrong, apparently,” he sighed.
“Whatever Keen has told you-” Therron began, but Tammon cut him off.
“Don’t bother with any more lies, my son,” he raised a hand, suddenly weary of this confrontation. “Therron McLeod, of the House McLeod, you have by your actions against Crown and Kingdom proved yourself unworthy of the title and responsibility you bear. In light of that fact and of the evidence already arrayed against you in my possession, coupled with your complete disregard for a direct order of your Sovereign, placing the entire kingdom in jeopardy in doing so, you are hereby stripped of all rights and privileges of the station of a member of the Ruling House. You are relieved of your post as Lord Marshall of the Army of Soulan and will no longer occupy the second seat in line of succession to the throne of Soulan.” Tammon paused, taking a deep, troubled breath.
“Further, you will live out the remainder of your days in exile along the islands of the Key Horn, where you will bear no power, no authority, and no seat of any kind. Your name will be stricken from the histories of the Dynasty of Tyree, and you will be forgotten. As if you never were. This is my Decree, spoken this day, in the presence of these witnesses, to be recorded in the Royal Archives. Three days hence you will be escorted to your new home by members of the Inspector General’s office, where you will remain under constant guard so long as you shall live. I have spoken.”
The official words said, Tammon looked at his middle son, a single tear falling down his right cheek.
“It is better than you deserve,” he said finally, before leaving the room accompanied by his personal aides.
Memmnon stayed a moment longer but had no words for his brother. He motioned for the Warden to remove Keen, waited for the Inspector General’s men to remove Therron, and then walked slowly to his office.
He would sit there before his fire for long time that night, looking for peace that simply would not come.
CHAPTER FOUR
-
Parno stood before the assembled Generals, eyeing each on in turn. Division commanders, brigade commanders, their seconds, and Parno’s staff occupied the command tent of General Davies. Parno’s first major move had been to promote Davies to command of the Soulan First Field Army, consisting of both 1st and 2nd Corps along with all attached Provincial Militia. He had expected Graham to object, but apparently Parno had made his point to Therron�
��s puppet for he had simply nodded.
The men assembled before him led the 2nd, 4th, and 6th Soulan Cavalry Divisions, along with the 21st Separate Horse Archer Brigade, a unit of horsemen specializing in archery from horseback.
“Gentlemen,” he said finally. “You’ve been briefed on tomorrow’s assignment; I assume?” Heads nodded around the room.
“Good. We attack at dawn tomorrow. Divisions will attack with two brigades abreast, the third in reserve, with all divisions abreast in that formation. As our line faces east, the 4th will occupy the center, with the 2nd to the north, and 6th to the south.” He pointed to the map now hanging along the tent wall.
“Note carefully our avenue of attack, if you will,” he continued. “This is not an all-out attack, but rather a limited action with set goals and objectives. We will advance no more than three miles before halting our attack, no matter how successful it seems to be moving. I want that clear from the start. Do all of you understand that order?” Again, all head nodded.
“Excellent. There are approximately three infantry divisions on the Nor right that are not fortified, not dug in, and posting only a token picket. Our goal is to destroy those divisions in their camp. We will attack with the light of day and we will press the advantage for three miles, if possible. Why three miles, I know you’re wanting to ask.” A few heads nodded this time, others simply waiting.
“At that point, you will encounter a unit that is in line, fortified, with artillery in support. While we could probably still take the fight to them, our mission tomorrow is simply to remind the Nor that they have bitten off more than they can possibly chew. And to start making them pay a price for invading our home,” he added. Several low growls of approval ran through the assembled commanders.
“Understand something else. Our goal is to completely destroy these units and their ability to fight. We do that by attacking their morale, their safety, and their supplies.” He turned to face them fully now.
“For that reason, the reserve brigades will be carrying torches. They will fire every wagon, every supply and sutler tent, every house and every grain storage building along those three miles. I know,” he raised a hand. “I know that we’ll be hurting our own people in doing this, but buildings can be rebuilt. Homes replaced. But only if we drive these invaders from our soil first. And I promise you with all that I have, we are going to do just that.”
“It won’t be easy, it won’t be blood free and it won’t be overnight, but when we’re finished there won’t be a Nor soldier left in Soulan.” He paused, considering his next words.
“We will take no prisoners,” he said simply. Heads all around the tent perked up at that.
“We don’t have the resources to feed them, for one thing,” he informed the men. “Second, they aren’t interested in taking any prisoners, either. This is war to the knife, gentlemen. With the blade in to the hilt and twisted. I want the Nor soldiers facing us to know that only death is waiting for them from here on out. The only other option is to leave our soil.”
For a second there was nothing. Parno waited, reminding himself that these men weren’t Black Sheep. They were however veteran soldiers now. They had been engaged in a fighting withdrawal for weeks. He was offering them a chance to hit back and do it hard. Do it in a way that mattered.
Slowly, eyes hardening, the men nodded both their understanding, and their agreement.
“No prisoners,” a large, beefy man in the front row agreed. “No mercy.”
“None,” Parno nodded. “I will be with you tomorrow gentlemen, along with what’s left of my men from the battle of the Gap. We will carry the Black Flag from now on. There will be no mercy, no quarter of any kind for our invaders. If you cannot agree to that, I truly do understand and won’t hold it against you. But you will not participate in tomorrow’s attack, either.”
“Atten-hut!” Davies bellowed and the men in the tent shot to their feet.
“Is there a man here that argues with the orders?” he demanded in a voice that made Parno think of Darvo Nidiad.
“No Sir!” over a dozen voices thundered together.
“Then say it with me!” Davies ordered. “No Mercy!”
“No Mercy!”
“No Quarter!” Davies continued.
“No Quarter!”
“No Prisoners!” Davies concluded.
“No Prisoners, Sir!”
Parno nodded, more than satisfied.
“Very well, gentlemen. Your orders are as simple as I can make them. Keep your formations together, keep your men in line. I don’t want to leave a single man behind if we can help it. Not one. Listen for bugle orders, and be especially alert for the withdrawal horn. We will return to our line of demarcation, and from there to our own lines. Are there any questions?”
“Sir?” the beefy man in front called.
“Yes?” Parno looked at him. “General. . . ?”
“Brigadier Buford Beaumont, sir!” the man replied. “6th Division, 2nd Brigade, sir!”
“Your question, General Beaumont?” Parno asked, fighting a smile.
“If we encounter General Officers, are we to attempt their capture, sir?” Beaumont asked. “For interrogation purposes?”
“No,” Parno shook his head. “Is that a problem?”
“Not in the least, sir!” Beaumont grinned wickedly. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Understood,” Parno did smile, then. “Anything else?” No one spoke.
“Very well, gentlemen. Report to you posts. Men ready an hour before dawn. That’s all.”
The men all saluted, filing out of the tent on their way back to their respective commands. Several of them looked to Parno on the way out, nodding their approval. He returned the nod passively, allowing nothing to show on his face.
Once the last man had departed and he was sure they were away from the command tent, Parno let out a long, low breath and almost collapsed into a camp chair.
“Are you all right, milord?” Enri asked, frowning.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever addressed a collection of officers like that,” Parno admitted, slightly shame-faced. “I wasn’t sure how I’d do.”
“How you’d do?” Davies repeated, his own face still flushed from the energy Parno had unleashed in the departed commanders. “My God, sir, I. . .I have never in my career seen anything like it!”
“That bad?” Parno frowned.
“Bad?” Davies echoed again. “No milord, it was incredible! Did you see them? Those men walked in here beaten. We’re outnumbered, facing better soldiers than we’ve ever faced before, and have been forced back day after day. You’ve sent them on their way tonight believing that starting tomorrow all of that is finished. It was well done, milord.”
“Thank God,” Parno slumped in his seat. “You do realize that tomorrow is just going to kick over a hornet’s nest though, right?”
“I do,” Davies nodded. “I only wish I was going with you to help with the kicking!”
“No, you’re needed here, General,” Parno shook his head. “You still know far better than I the shape of the Army and the disposition of both our own men and the enemy’s. It’s better for you to be here.”
“I hope to gain a week, perhaps even a bit longer in this near stalemate with tomorrow’s attack,” Parno explained. “If we can forestall the Nor return to the offensive, then we may have some more help coming. We’ll have to see. Until then however, we’re on our own. First thing we have to do is show the Nor they don’t get everything their own way.”
“Good luck tomorrow, sir,” Davies offered his hand. “And Godspeed.”
“To us all, General,” Parno accepted the offered hand. “To us all.”
*****
Parno rose early the next morning, before three. His aide, Captain Sprigs was waiting outside his tent fully dressed and ready when Parno walked outside.
“Good Lord, Harrel, did you sleep at all?” Parno asked, shocked to see the man.
“I
did indeed, sir,” Sprigs replied, bowing slightly. “Breakfast will be ready ten minutes from your say so,” he added.
“Then say so,” Parno nodded. “And join me,” he added.
“Of course, milord,” Sprigs nodded again, then left to see to preparations. Parno stood by the fire, warming himself. It was still early in the year and mornings were on the cool side. He had been there no more than five minutes when Karls Willard walked up to join him.
“Is everyone up before me?” Parno asked, causing Karls to smile.
“Big day the rumors are saying,” he replied, holding his own hands out to the fire. “No one wants to miss out.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Parno snorted. “I really hope that everyone realizes this isn’t going to be like the Gap. We’re going into a real battle this morning, even if their right is unprepared. We’re taking about twenty-five thousand men, leaving aside the Horse Archers, and attacking the flank of an army ten times that size. I don’t even want to think of all the things that can go wrong. Horribly, terribly, ends badly for all concerned wrong.”
“We’ll be fine,” Karls replied calmly, shrugging. “We’ll take losses, I’m sure, but. . .we’re hitting an unprepared force right at dawn. Their men will just be waking and prepared for another boring day in camp.” He grinned at that, and the firelight dancing across his face made him look evil indeed. “Won’t they be surprised!”
“They’d better be or we’re done before we start,” Parno told him shortly. “Confidence is all well and good, Karls, but let’s not be cocky!”
“I’m not,” Karls promised and wiped the smile from his face. “But I am confident. Parsons’ men did an excellent job gathering intelligence. We know exactly where the enemy is weakest and where we can hurt them the most. All the commanders have their orders. I admit they aren’t as good as the Sheep are, but they are good. Professionals. And they’ve been hit hard and pushed around. This is their chance to get some of their own back. Expect them to fight as hard as humanly possible.”
“I do,” Parno nodded as Sprigs returned followed by two cooks. Parno was not surprised to see a plate for Karls as well. There was also a fourth plate, and just as Parno was about to ask who it was for, Enri Willard materialized from the dark and took a seat.
