The man grinned, an unpleasant sight, given the dreadful facial wounds he’d suffered, and took a deep swig from a darkened metal flask emblazoned with a wolf’s head.
Chapter XXVII.
Kiva stood, leaning on the fence with his elbows, watching the training. Sithis, the captain of the ‘Swords’ had named his unit well. Twenty and more years ago the man had been a captain in Kiva’s army and, when Caerdin had disappeared and the army had fallen apart following Velutio’s rise to power and the collapse of Imperial order Sithis, like many other officers, had taken a unit and gone his separate way. Sithis, however, unlike the others, had not taken his own unit per se, but had carefully selected a number of men he especially had his eye on. Consequently, the ‘Swords’ had been born of some of the best swordsmen the Imperial army had to offer. And it showed in their training methods, even in just the four days since Sithis and his unit had arrived. Some of the lowliest men who’d turned up at Munda had been indentured farmers whose livelihoods had been swept away from under them by Velutio’s reprisals against unsupportive lords or just his pure acquisition of lands. And some of these peasants who’d never wielded anything more dangerous than a hoe in their lives had a glint of steel in their eye and swiped and parried as well as the career soldiers. Sithis’ regime was tough and lasted almost as long as the light each day.
All in all the training was going well. They’d made last minute plans before Tythias and Darius and their party had left on the political mission to gather support. Sithis, Marco and Mercurias had stated that the more time they got to train the army, the better chance they would stand when they finally brought someone to battle, but equally, Sarios and Kiva had pointed out that every day their army got better, Velutio’s army and power grew. In the end, a route was agreed that would take the Emperor’s entourage in a circuit through seven of the more local lords in the space of two weeks, returning to Hadrus then. One more week would be allowed for any lords who joined them to reach the meeting point at Munda, and then the army would march, hopefully picking up further allies as they travelled.
There were approaching ten thousand men stationed at Hadrus now and, with the exception of certain mercenary units that maintained their independence due to the specific tasks they’d been allocated, the entire force had been organised along traditional Imperial lines. There had been some grumbling among lords who thought they were far too clever commanders to have been allocated lesser positions, such as quartermaster or officer of only a hundred men, but on the whole most people had been placed in positions for which they were suited. The private forces of the various lords had been broken up and dispersed alongside some of the lesser mercenary units and prior loyalties had been abandoned; Kiva had made that clear in his first speech to the army. Every new recruit, no matter what his background, was made to take the oath once more, to Darius, to the people and to the Empire. A second oath had been elicited from every man, pledging individual allegiance to their own officer and the commanders of the army.
It was with tremendous satisfaction that Kiva noted how speedily the engineers had been put together and how little outside organisation and training was required. Engineers were always like that though, and the entire corps had been formed of men with prior engineering experience or interest. They knew their jobs and enjoyed them and the entire force had been constructing, testing and reworking different machines from the moment they’d first formed. Now, in what was once the massive exercise yard of the prison, bolt throwers, catapults, siege engines and strange constructions that Kiva couldn’t easily identify lined the walls and he could see even now a half dozen engineers crawling over one of them with tools and sheets of schematics.
The cavalry was nominally under the command and guidance of Tythias, though due to his continued absence, one of his men had remained in Hadrus to train and organise them. Kiva had never been a great believer in the value of cavalry on the battlefield, though Tythias had argued vociferously for their inclusion at a command level. Given his own way, Kiva would use them only as scouts and light, mounted skirmishers, but Tythias had badgered Athas until the big sergeant had ordered his armourers to begin work on chain armour for the steeds. The Lion Riders intended to make serious use of heavy cavalry after the fashion of the eastern peoples.
As Kiva stood watching, a small unit of newly-recruited horsemen in full uniform came riding into the cavalry training area, a large space of lawn that had been previously unused just inside the walls. Dressed in shirts of chain mail that hung down to their knees, they each carried an oval shield and a short spear, with a long sword hanging by the belt loop from the saddle. They clutched the reins and hauled on them as they reached their training officer, a Lion Rider named Peris, who shook his head in irritation.
“Firstly, forget everything you’ve ever been taught about horses. You’re all either trained to ride for fun or sport or you’ve been trained for battle by an idiot.”
There was a grumbling among the horsemen.
“Shut the fuck up. When I talk, you listen and you pay attention. Every one of you needs to lean forward and remove the reins, bit, bridle; the whole frigging lot from all your horses.”
Three of the men did so immediately while the others stared at each other. One brave young man thrust a hand in the air.
“This is not a fucking classroom, lad. What?”
“Sir,” the young man asked, “why are we getting rid of our reins?”
Peris growled. “You’ve all been given proper military saddles. I intend to show you how to use them. The saddles are different from the ones you’re used to. The four horns at the corners are keeping you wedged in your seat, as I presume you’ve noticed. You’ll also have noticed there’s no stirrups. I’m going to teach you how to control your steed with just your knees. Your feet will be free to kick the horse gently or any footman bloody hard. Your hands’ll be free to wield both sword, spear and shield liberally without having to fight for control with the horse too.”
As he spoke, others began to remove their reins. “As far as your weapons are concerned, you’ll bear your shield on your left arm, whether you’re left or right handed. You’ll go into any combat with the spear. Don’t throw the fucking thing; that’s a waste. When you first ride in, jam it under your arm and lock it as best you can and aim for the torso of the man in front of you. If you’re lucky you’ll impale the bastard and the spear’ll break. If you’re really lucky, you’ll do that and the spear won’t break. Best you can realistically hope to get from it’s three goes; they don’t last that long. You’ll then draw your sword and go to work.”
The last of the men was now removing his bridle and they sat holding the leather straps aimlessly. The training officer grumbled in his throat.
“You can make use of them too. Use your sword and cut a two-foot length of leather from the reins. Then tie it real tight around the hilt of your sword, just by the guard. Loop it a couple of times and hang it back on the saddle horn. When you finish with your spear, if you do this, you’ll be able to slip the sword off the horn and go straight to work instead of struggling to remove the belt loop. As you do it, you can wrap the leather around your wrist. When you hit someone hard, your arm’ll jar and if you’re not careful you’ll drop the sword. If it’s bound to your wrist it won’t leave you defenceless.”
Kiva smiled. It reminded him so much of his early days at Vengen. This was what the world lacked these days: order and sense. And that was one of the best reasons for doing what they were doing. He turned, still listening to the commander barking out instructions.
“Your horses will be slower and heavier and more difficult to handle when their barding’s complete. Several stone of chainmail will make them less responsive, so you’ll need to work with them…”
His voice trailed off as the general walked away from the fence. The whole place was alive with activity. He strolled past the forges and furnace where Athas had homed all the personnel with any skill at smithing. Only three men had
known how to manufacture chainmail links and put them together, but with expert supervision, that number had grown quickly and shirts and horse armour were now being churned out daily. Still, faster production was needed. Beyond was the punishment yard. Here, decades ago, prisoners who’d broken the rules had been flogged or beaten or locked in the sweat-box. Now it was lined with dummies and targets along the two ends, with standing positions marked in the middle.
Archers had been trained not en masse, but in highly adaptable and mobile units of forty, with these units being brought together in fives under the command of individual missile commanders. It was at times like this when his thoughts turned to the Wolves they’d lost recently. Thalo would have been the best man to command and train the archers; there was no one better. But he was gone and his killers, the crossbowmen of Captain Phythian had been amalgamated with Filus’ Western Legion’s archers for the sake of surety of their loyalty. They stood in the centre of the punishment yard, ploughing bolt after bolt into the dummies and targets. The speed and accuracy was truly impressive, though even thinking about it pushed him once more into thoughts of the Wolves that these men had killed. A low growl escaped his throat and he forced himself to remember why they were here. They’d taken new oaths and worked with a trustworthy commander now. And they were an asset.
He was still brooding when a voice behind him said “and do you trust them?”
The general turned to see Sithis standing behind him. The captain of the Swords had been a real ladies’ man in the old days, a swashbuckler and a man of some reputation among the court. These days, despite twenty some years passing, he really hadn’t changed a great deal. The one visible scar he’d picked up ran lightly along his cheek under his eye and did nothing to mar features that still turned the heads of the women at Hadrus. Kiva was fairly sure the captain hadn’t spent a night alone since his arrival and the thought made him smile.
“I’m trying to. It’s not really their fault. Our men would do stupid things if we ordered them to. That makes it Phythian’s fault, and he’s already paid for it.”
Sithis walked up next to his commander and leaned heavily on the fence. “You don’t actually believe that though, do you? I know my men would do it, because I prefer skill and obedience to the ability to command. My men were all swordsmen in their time. Yours were all commanders themselves and they all think like officers. If you’d ordered the Wolves to kill Tythias and his men, do you really think they would?”
Kiva shrugged. “I suppose not, but then these men here weren’t selected for their command ability or ethics, just for their ability with a crossbow. I suppose they deserve a chance. Besides,” he added as he turned again, “they took the oaths and I’m as bound by them as they are.”
Sithis nodded, a quirky smile on his face. “I got a chance quickly to meet Tythias’ young lady before they left. How in the name of every god with sense did a battered wreck like him end up with such a gorgeous little woman as that?”
Kiva laughed. “War makes people do crazy things. That little woman infiltrated Velutio’s palace to find us when we were all neck deep in shit. If it weren’t for her this wouldn’t be happening. She’s got the respect of every officer here.”
“And the hearts and minds of a few too, I’ll bet” replied Sithis with a grin.
“Well what about you? Now you’re here I doubt there’s a single woman in the camp that’s not falling over themselves just to wash your tunics?”
Sithis’ grin grew wider. “Can I help it if I’m beautiful?”
The two laughed for a moment and then fell silent, listening to the swipe, twang and thud of crossbow practice. After a while the swordsman cleared his throat, glancing down at the weapon hanging from the general’s belt. “What happened to your sword? That’s new, isn’t it?”
Kiva nodded. “Mine’s probably decorating one of Velutio’s rooms somewhere. This one’s alright, but it’s just not the same.”
“Can you use it?” Kiva glanced across at his training officer with narrowed eyes. The question was loaded with more than just a light query over his new sword.
“Let’s go examine the Emperor’s new quarters while we talk,” the general commented quietly. Sithis nodded and the two of them began to wander towards the residential area of the camp. Long, low buildings that had been cell blocks had been converted for habitation among the army. Out of deference to their status, those who were commanders, civilians or craftsmen had been given the prison guards’ quarters to convert. Darius had, of course been given the best available. The greatest building in Hadrus, the chief warden’s quarters, may have been converted into the headquarters, but the villa that had been put aside and hastily converted for their new Emperor was as sumptuous as possible in their somewhat limited circumstances. After Kiva’s reorganisation of the forces at their command, he’d set aside two hundred men as an Imperial Guard. They’d all been selected by their commanders as the best and most loyal and had all taken a further oath in private to the Emperor and the general. Their loyalty, while nothing in the world at the moment could be truly sure, was unquestioned, and though a hundred of them had accompanied Darius on his travels, the rest remained here to protect his interests. They answered officially to Darius alone, though the young Emperor had told them to follow any orders given them by any man of the Wolves or the Lion Riders. Two such guards stood either side of the door to the Imperial residence, at attention and heavily armed, wearing the black and green uniform displaying the raven and the crown. They saluted as Kiva and Sithis approached and the general returned a half-hearted gesture.
“We’re not here to steal the Emperor’s valuables, but we need somewhere private for a short time. Go get yourselves a bite to eat. Be back in an hour to resume your posts.”
Without a word, the two men saluted again and then fell out, walking swiftly towards the cookhouse. Sithis smiled. “They’re just like the palace guard used to be when Quintus was in charge.”
“Yes, and with just as much sense of humour.” The general opened the door and wandered inside, holding it open for his junior officer. As Sithis entered, he looked around appraisingly while Kiva shut the door once more. It was clear to anyone who knew Darius that the decoration of this entrance hall was not his work. Probably Athas had most of the say. Banners hung from the side walls displaying Imperial symbols, maps of the Empire plastered the rear wall and everything was painted in bright, rich colours. With a smile, Kiva opened the side door into the study Darius tended to use; the only room Kiva had spent time in. This room was virtually bare of decoration, though cluttered with maps, weapons, lists and books. Copies of Peoro’s ‘On Warfare’ and Rastus’ ‘Battles of the Late Empire’ lay open on a desk. Kiva smiled. This was the Darius he knew.
Sithis shrugged. “Somehow I’d expected it to be a bit more luxurious.”
“We have a soldier Emperor now, Sithis. Darius is not the same as Quintus, Basianus or Corus. They were all born to the purple and never had to really fight for it. Darius had proved himself a number of times before the throne was ever put before him. That’s why he’s the man we need. That’s why I’ll put myself through the grinder to put him in control.”
The swordsman smiled. “I wasn’t putting him down, sir. Just a little surprised that’s all. After all, I remember the old days like you.”
“Yes, well. This is a new world,” Kiva replied, “and don’t call me sir when we’re alone. I’ve been fighting alongside you at the same rank on and off for twenty years. Wish you’d been around when all this shit first started hitting us instead of gallivanting off in the west making huge piles of coin.”
“Kiva, if I’d know all this was going on, I’d have been back like a shot and you know it. So would Filus, Sorianus, Belto and a whole load of others. At least you had Tythias. Belto heard about it but never managed to reach us at the meeting point. I heard they met Velutio’s army head-on and totally by surprise. We’ve never even found Sorianus. He could be up in the barbarian lands for
all we know. Problem is: everything happened too fast. If you’d given us another month before starting all this, every unit worth their salt would have been waiting for you at Munda.”
Kiva nodded. “I know. I just can’t help thinking about might-have-beens. Entirely off the record, Sithis, I’m positive as hell out there in front of everyone, but I don’t really see how we can win this. We’ve got a sizeable force and they’re well trained and in high spirits and all that, but that’s only worth so much when you’re facing odds of four or five to one or more. And I have a horrible feeling that’s the odds we’re looking at.”
Sithis shrugged and collapsed into one of the chairs around the edge of the room.
“We can only try our best. Our cause is right and the gods should be with us.”
“Ha!” Kiva dropped into the chair opposite and drew a flask from his tunic. Taking a heavy swig, he stoppered it and let it drop into his lap. For a moment his jaw set hard and Sithis noticed a slight twitch and then a shudder run through the general. Then Kiva breathed out heavily. “The gods won’t give me any help, Sithis. I abandoned them a long time ago, and they damn well abandoned me too.”
Sithis leaned forward in his chair.
“They never abandoned you, Caerdin. You northerners were always so damned superstitious. Those of us born here is the south believe in the gods as long as it’s convenient, but if they ever seem to be turning against us we just refuse to acknowledge their existence. It’s all quite convenient really.”
Kiva laughed out loud for a moment and then winced. Sithis folded his arms. “You’re not a well man, Kiva. I was going to suggest you get some sword practice in so I can see how well you’re coming along, but I see the answer without going through all that. How long have you been on the mare’s mead now? Two decades? Even the most idiotic doctors’ll only prescribe it on a month’s course.”
Interregnum Page 41
