by N. C. Reed
Several of them discovered that challenging one of Prince Parno's men, on their home ground no less, was simply not a good way to behave. Most of them were even now recovering in hospital.
With the battalion gone out of sight, the place returned to business as usual and remained that way until late afternoon the following day when the guard announced a rider approaching at a dead run. The rider was passed through and LTC Leman was waiting for him when he dismounted.
“Message for Lord Parno, sir!” the man tried to brace to attention but failed. He'd been in the saddle a long time.
“You missed him, son,” Leman shook his head. “He's been gone since sun-up yesterday.” The man sighed in despair, almost collapsing. Then he straightened.
“Can I trouble you for a fresh horse, sir?” he asked. “Mine is about done in.”
“So are you, son,” Leman replied. “I'll have a man carry the message after him. You need to get cleaned up, get some food, and then rest. You can return to your post tomorrow or day next.”
“I'm beholden sir,” the man admitted. “I honestly don't know that I can go another round right now.”
Less than an hour later a man was on his way after Parno's Company with a message that two men had already carried almost non-stop. Despite the quality of the horse and rider it would take nearly two days to catch him, since the courier dispatched by Leman had to stop at the trail off the mountain due to darkness.
Thus it was that Parno was about to make camp when the rider came up on their rear, his horse foaming and flecking. After narrowly avoiding a lance from the post behind the column, the rider was escorted forward to Parno.
Parno read the message twice, cursing to himself as he did so. He almost tore the message to shreds in a fit of rage, but managed to simply hand it to Enri Willard instead.
“Incredible,” the elder Willard shook his head as he passed the message to his brother. “I would never have imagined it.”
“I thought Callens had been dealt with by the IG,” Parno admitted. “I should have checked.”
“Begging your pardon, milord, but you shouldn't have to,” Enri sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose trying to avert the headache he felt coming. “That's what you have staff and subordinates for, sir. We failed you.”
“No more than anyone else, or myself, Enri,” Parno shook his head, his mouth twisting into a mockery of a smile. “We'll have to deal with this as soon as possible.”
“We'll start at first light and make best speed to the camp,” Karls said. “Let's get our men and horses fed and rested as tomorrow will be a hard day in the saddle.”
“Agreed,” Parno nodded, turning his horse over to an enlisted man who led the animal away to be cared for. Soon fires were going and men were digging rations from saddlebags and 'ride behinds' to make themselves a meal. Parno opened the small box that Stephanie had prepared for him and removed the last sandwich she had fixed him. The ham and bread was going dry now, but it was still good and he was hungry. He chewed wolfishly in silence, brooding over the latest news.
He should have expected this kind of thing, especially knowing his brother. Or his sister, for that matter. He shook his head slightly in silent recrimination, then exhaled in anger, his nostrils flaring. Where the hell was Memmnon in all this? Did Parno have to take care of everything?
“There are others who can do some things, my Prince,” Cho Feng said softly, so that only Parno could hear.
“Supposed to be,” Parno nodded without looking around. “Yet here I am, having to catch it all.”
“Let them go,” Feng advised. “Let the Crown Prince worry over this. It is his crown to protect, after all. And while your brother may be a threat, his one regiment and his scheming ways pale in comparison to the army that now encamps on your sovereign soil. Unless you can deal with that, your brother's machinations do not matter. Will not matter.”
“Everyone thinks that Therron was removed and replaced because of ill health,” Parno snorted in anger. “He can use that, once free, to spread his lies and deceit to those who might well support him in his efforts.”
“That may be, but I maintain that it is for your brother to deal with,” Cho insisted. He decided to try another track.
“Perhaps a judicious message to your brother, offering him the use of one of your better cavalry units to chase this man, Callens, to heel? If he lacks forces capable of doing so?”
Parno considered that, his gaze going at once to Karls Willard, sitting across the camp from him, talking quietly with his own brother.
“The only group I could trust with something like that are the Sheep,” Parno said finally. “And I need them with me, just in case. If we have a catastrophe, they're the only troops that I can depend on to stand fast. Not to mention help me maintain order in the Army if Therron and Sherron manage to get their little rebellion off the ground.”
“I would suggest there are at least two other groups you could count on to pursue and detain or destroy Callens,” Feng said gently. “Men who would be absolutely loyal to you, regardless of what they encountered.” Parno turned at last to look at his oriental mentor, sitting so calmly beside him despite the furor that the message had created.
“Beaumont?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Behind enemy lines and out of reach at the moment,” he shook his head. “Same for Chad, if that's who you're thinking about. And they don't have the numbers, either,” he added.
“They can swell their numbers with the men still in camp,” Feng reminded. “For that matter, those in training could go as well, if it were necessary.”
“No,” Parno's voice was firm. “That's out. I need them training. I can't afford to put that off just to chase down this fire. For that matter Chad's men are supposed to go through that training when they return. I'd rather have them doing that than chasing Therron.”
“Then let us proceed to camp and see what can be spared, or if your brother even needs assistance. Send him the message in the morning to save time,” he temporized, attempting to force his prince to focus on the more pressing threat.
“Yeah,” Parno nodded finally. “That's a good idea. Harrel!” he called out and Sprigs appeared as if by magic. Parno quickly dictated the message for his brother with orders to get the courier on his way as soon as it was light enough to ride.
Thoroughly disgusted, Parno went to bed, wrapping himself in blankets as if they were a talisman against his traitorous brother and sister.
*****
“Good morning, Admiral,” Hampton Rhode said quietly as he entered Semmes room. As senior Commodore, Rhode had assumed command in Semmes' absence. Rhode had one arm in a sling and an angry bruise on the left side of his face.
“Perhaps you should be here instead of me, Hampton,” Semmes offered, managing a slight grin.
“Just a trivial matter, sir,” Rhode assured him. “Nothing to worry over. How are you feeling?”
“I've been better,” Semmes admitted, sitting up straighter. “What is our status?”
“We're shore-side for the time being, sir,” Rhode admitted. “We'll have three frigates ready for service by tomorrow afternoon, and we have five cutters standing ready.”
“That's it?” Semmes tried to keep the grimace from his face.
“For now, sir,” Rhode nodded. “Our losses were heavy, sir,” the other man admitted as he took a seat and removed a small notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. For the next five minutes he droned mercilessly over the list of losses. Eleven cruisers either lost or so damaged that repair would be more costly and time consuming than new construction. Thirteen frigates lost, another five probably beyond salvage. Only the three that were nearly ready for deployment had escaped damage serious enough to keep them in harbor more than a week.
Three thousand seven hundred and twelve sailors and marines either confirmed dead or missing and presumed dead. One thousand nine hundred and eighty-four in hospital. At least in tents around the hospital. There wasn't nearly enough room
for them all in the Savannah clinic. Rhode had brought all surviving ships to Savannah, the nearest port to the site of the battle.
Semmes felt a dark shadow fall over him as Rhode read the losses. His fleet had been essentially destroyed in the battle.
“Imperial losses?” he asked, looking out his window.
“Fifteen cruisers sunk or sinking when contact was broken,” Rhode smiled slightly. “Same for sixteen frigates and eleven troop transports or merchant vessels in their supply train. Three hundred and seventy-nine prisoners. Impossible to estimate their losses in men, sir. It had to be high,” he added.
“Their fleet might still be strong enough to attack the shore line,” Semmes noted.
“Admiral, they didn't have much in the way of undamaged ships when we broke contact, or else they would have given chase I believe,” Rhode argued. “However, I had planned to send David out with our surviving ships tomorrow or the next day just in case. His cruiser's damage is slight enough that she's sea-worthy at least. Not perfect, but able.”
“No,” Semmes shook his head. “Keep them in until they have enough to make a good fight. If we use them here, the shore batteries can help stand off the ships the Imperials throw at us.”
“Might try to land a raiding party somewhere sir,” Rhode pointed out respectfully.
“We probably can't stop them from doing it, so we won't try. Savannah is one of our largest shipyards, Commodore. We must keep it safe. We need ships more than ever, now.”
“Yes sir,” Rhode nodded, agreeing with the tactic and the need. “I'll see to it.”
“Has a report been sent to Marshal McLeod?” Semmes asked.
“I sent a report of results and losses sir, but didn't attempt to file a report of the battle on your behalf,” Rhode reported. “The doctor assured me that you would recover, with God's grace, so it wasn't my place I felt to do so.”
“Very well,” Semmes nodded. “Send Mister Nettles. . .” he broke off, remembering that Nettles had perished in the battle. “Send me a secretary to dictate my report for His Highness,” he forged on. “And help me consider someone to assume the duties of Commander Nettles. Proper candidates to choose from and so forth.”
“I'll solicit two names from each squadron commander, sir,” Rhode offered. Semmes nodded, still gazing out the window.
“Have the secretary report as soon as possible.”
Rhode departed, leaving Semmes to soak in his despair at the destruction of his navy. Again he prayed that their sacrifice was not in vain. For the Royal Navy, the war was essentially over, at least for the foreseeable future.
It would be a land war, now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
-
Memmnon read the report with an increasing furor. By the time he got to the end of Davies' report he was furious.
“Damn it all!” he managed to turn his exclamation into a quiet curse, though his desire was to scream it at the top of his lungs. Callens and his entire regiment had slipped out of camp and deserted. No doubt answering a summons from either Therron or Sherron. His eyes narrowed at the thought of his near deranged sister. Where was she? He turned to his aide who was never far from him.
“Where is my sister?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
“I do not know, milord, but I will send someone to find her at once,” the man replied, a questioning eyebrow raised.
“No,” Memmnon shook his head. “Send me Chief Constable Grey,” he ordered. “Now,” he added. The aide bowed and hurried to dispatch his own staff in search of the chief of the Royal Constabulary. Memmnon sat down at his desk and hurriedly wrote out orders, his anger resulting in having to start over twice as a broken pen tip punched through the paper he was using. As he was writing another aide entered his office, passed through by his secretary.
“Yes?” he demanded without looking up.
“Message from Lord Parno, milord,” the man offered, holding out the sealed leather bag. Memmnon took it as carefully as if he knew there to be a serpent inside, assuming it was more bad news. He relaxed slightly as he read of Parno's offer to send a unit after Callens if Memmnon needed it.
“Very well,” Memmnon nodded. “I'll prepare an answer when I've made a decision. Won't be long,” he assured the man.
“Milord,” the messenger nodded and left the office. Memmnon exhaled sharply as he sat back, rubbing his hands down his face. This was a complete mess. Thanks to his father's desire to 'keep down scandal', Therron was still alive, and in exile rather than prison. Where he could conveniently be freed and allowed to create rebellion among his supporters, since everyone by now 'knew' that Therron had been replaced due to 'ill health'.
“What a mess,” he gave words to his thoughts just as a knock sounded on his door.
“Enter!”
Sebastian Grey entered the office, tall and imposing in his black and green uniform. Grey was the commander of the entire Royal Constable forces of the Kingdom of Soulan.
“You sent for me, sir?” Grey's deep voice nearly shook the desk Memmnon sat behind. He nodded, pointing to a seat. He spent the next ten minutes explaining to an increasingly agitated Grey the situation. By the time he had finished Grey was alternating between shock and outrage.
“What do you need me to do?” he finally asked, unable to really say anything else at the moment. When in doubt, ask for orders.
“First, I want my sister confined along with her entire staff,” Memmnon ordered. “Nor is she to have access to that staff under any circumstances. I want that staff questioned thoroughly to see what knowledge or involvement they have in any of these matters, no matter how small or slight. They are to remain confined until I vet each one, after which they will be released both from confinement and from service. We can't afford to have them here any longer.”
“Yes sir,” Grey nodded. He had known Memmnon a long time, had answered to him directly for several years now. He had never seen the Crown Prince any angrier than he was at this moment.
“You will search my sister's apartments for any damning evidence before confining her to her rooms. You still have female Constables, do you not?”
“Of course, sir,” Grey nodded.
“One will be assigned to. . .no, two will be assigned to her rooms directly at all time, with two male counterparts outside her doors at all times. She is under no circumstances allowed to leave those rooms without my express permission. Each Constable selected for that duty must be carefully vetted as well to ensure that none of them will show allegiance to my sister or brother and assist them in any way.” Grey started to bluster at the implication that his subordinates would do such a thing but a raised hand stopped him.
“I can't afford any more mistakes,” he said simply. “The very existence of the Kingdom is at stake, Sebastian. If they are allowed to make this happen, there is no way the Imperial Army won't conquer us. I have to get this under control as quickly as possible. Understand?”
Grey did understand and nodded his reply. He had not thought about the problem beyond his own duties. He could now see the immense pressure that Memmnon was under. With Tammon's health failing more each day, Memmnon was forced to assume more and more responsibility, and he could not depend on his remaining family for assistance that was rightfully his to demand. Well, other than young Parno, he allowed. That one had matured nicely in the last year it seemed.
“Then get it done as rapidly as possible,” Memmnon ordered. “It may already be too late.”
“At once Milord,” Grey rose and left at once, headed to follow his orders. Memmnon rang the bell that summoned his personal secretary and the man appeared in seconds at his door.
“Milord?”
“Have Inspector General Brock summoned to me at once,” he ordered briskly. “No matter what he is engaged in, he is to report to me immediately.”
“Sir,” the man nodded and was gone. Memmnon sat back again, once more rubbing his face with his open hands.
Today had started out such
a nice day.
*****
Sherron checked her bag once more, satisfied that she had all she needed for now. She would be back, after all, she smiled to herself. She indicated the final bag to her footman and he took the luggage and departed. With a final look around her rooms, Sherron was out the door, where she ran straight into Sebastian Grey and a half-dozen Royal Constables, three of them women.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, despite the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I'll have to ask that you return to your rooms, your Highness,” Grey said, his voice soft but unyielding. “There's a matter that we need to discuss with you.”
“It will have to wait,” Sherron said smoothly. “I have a previous engagement.”
“It's been canceled, your Highness,” Grey's voice grew cold. Behind him Sherron could see her footman protesting as two more Constables seized her bag and detained him.
“Release him at once!” she ordered loudly, trying to move around Grey only to have him side-step her and block her way once more.
“That isn't going to happen, Princess,” he told her flatly. “Your staff has been detained for questioning until further notice. Now please return to your room. At once,” he added.
“Step, aside, Constable.” Sherron bit her words off. “Now.”
“Ladies, please escort the Princess back inside and establish your watch,” Grey gave up the pretense of respectful address. The three uniformed women moved as one, seizing the Princess' arms and propelling her back into her suite.
“My father will hear of this!” Sherron shouted as she struggled against them, but these women had been selected for their size and strength, then retained for their intelligence. The struggle was lost before it began.
