The Man raced over to an undersized pre-teen holding a huge wooden sword. The Man grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck, “Why is this child practicing with a sword?”
An older gentleman spoke up, “I told him, best that lad could be is an archer.”
“In fact, why are most of these men practicing with swords? Hardly any will use swords in real battle. These are pikemen,” The Man informed his Training Master.
“Truly sorry, my king, I was training the men the way I was taught,” the Master nervously said.
“You were slowly groomed as a squire to be a knight. These men need to be battle ready by season’s end.” The Man stared at the Training Master as he spoke, “If you think this will be easy, it won’t. If you think we can rest on our laurels after taking one castle, we can’t. And if you think I will stand idly by while my officers show dereliction of duty, you’re dead wrong. These aren’t ten-year-olds who still have years to develop. The war is upon us,” The Man said.
The older gentleman said in a casual tone, “That’s what I told him.”
The Man glared at the brazen older man. The stout man looked to be around fifty with short black hair and a bald ring on top of his head. His full beard and moustache matched his hair color and he stood confidently.
The Man calmed down and spoke in a more relaxed manner, almost joking, “Would you have told our Master that these men should be practicing with pikes, real pikes, not wooden swords?” “Aye.” The older man nodded and scratched his beard.
“And you would have told our Master that these men should be practicing holding a wedge or how to not break ranks while facing oncoming cavalry attack?” he asked. “Aye.”
“You would have said, let’s teach the pikemen the correct distance to stand in front of the archers? Let’s teach them how to signal the archers to loose?” He started to get riled up again and looked down at the older man, “Let’s teach them how to hold the pike down to avoid the arrows? You would have said, we need to show the men how to hold their piss in the face of oncoming attack? That is what you would have said if you were our Master at Arms, immune to punishment?” The stout man agreed, “Aye, my king.”
“You would have said, where is the noise, the drums? I ask you, have you ever been in a silent battle?” The Man with the Golden Sword paced back and forth in front of the older man. “No, my king,” the man shook his head.
“Strangely enough, neither have I. I suppose you understand that communication is king on the field of battle?” The gentleman immediately answered, “Aye, my king.”
“I ask you, oh wise one, what is your name?”
“Terry Underling, my king.”
The Man moved closer, “Alright Terry, tell me something about war so I can believe you aren’t full of horseshit.”
“I know it takes sacrifice.” Terry pulled up his shirts. A wide, unscabbed gash extended from his hip to belly-button. The Man caught a whiff of the scent floating around the humid summer air. The Man knew the scent well; he always recognized the smells and sacrifices of war.
“That’s quite the credential. What did you say your name was?” “Terry Underling, my king.”
“Wrong. Your name is Training Master at Arms, Terry Underling.”
Terry dropped to one knee, “My king, I am not worthy. I am of modest birth.”
“We all come from humble beginnings. In my realm it will be what you make of yourself, not who you come from. It’s where a man ends up, that will be right important. This kingdom has relied on the same few families exerting their strength as the smaller families come and go, wither and die. My regime will give voice to men regardless of birth status. I personally look down on the righteous nobles. Before I take any crown, the men must be ready for battle and you are the man to do the job based on merit.” He turned his attention to the dejected and disgraced Master, “I should like to live long and sit my ass till it’s nice and wrinkled from the throne and you, sir, will get us all killed. You are relieved of your duty.”
The man whimpered, “Yes, my king,” bowed and stumbled away like a child who’d just been spanked.
The Man turned his attention to Terry, “Now I need you to provide these men with real battle training.”
“Yes, my king, excuse me for just one moment,” Terry looked at the men standing around and shouted, “What have you, shit stuffed in your ears? Your king said you’re pikemen now. Pikes are over in the north armory, lying against the outside of the building. Does everyone know where that is?”
“Yes, sir,” the men screamed sloppily. Terry rushed over to a huge man much bigger than The Man and threw a quick forearm into the recruit’s nose. Blood gushed out.
“See, that is what’s going to happen out there in the real mess. Now I’m no knight so don’t be calling me sir. It’s Master, got it? Does everyone know where the northern armory is?” he continued shouting.
“Yes, Master,” they screamed back in a more unified manner. “Alright, maybe there is a shred of hope for you.” He showed a quick smile of busted teeth. “We’re gonna march our asses over to the armory, pick up the pikes and march on back just like an army does. I want a single line over here, starting with the shortest man up front to the tallest in the back. We march in an even line, all together. If you break ranks, I’ll break your nose. Line up now.”
The soldiers scurried to get in order and after a minute they had formed. Terry yelled, “When you march, you will talk until you can do it in silence. It can be as simple as left, right, left or even tits, ass, tits, if you like to get fancy. Anything that will help you pansies march in unison can be used. That means all as one for the beef-brains out there. If you don’t march in unison, I’ll do the same thing that happens on the real field, break some faces. Now move out.”
The pensive soldiers began a soft chant of left, right, left until Terry ran up on the men. The threat increased the volume of the men by ten times and they started to walk as one pair of coordinated legs, not a displaced band of misfits.
The Man looked at Terry with a huge grin. “Apologies, my king, I couldn’t stand to see my men just hacking around, playing grab ass,” he returned the smile.
“You know, I thought I had the right man.” The Man seemed perfectly calm now. “Now I know I have the right man to train the men. You are exactly what these undisciplined green ears need. Benroy.”
“Yes, my king.” “I want drummers here…tomorrow. Send at least ten. I want trumpet players too,” The Man commanded. “Yes, my king.”
“Our new Master at Arms will need to sign his contract to start collecting his new salary. Please see to it,” The Man ordered. “I will, my king.”
He turned to his new worker, “Alright, so practical battle skills from now on. Use real swords and teach them what to steal from dead men. Teach them how to understand drum and horn commands in battle chaos. Teach them to attack and withdraw on command during the insanity of war. Start with small groups and then expand. Train single units of archers and pikemen separately and then together as in battle. Skip a meal now and again so they get used to hunger. Don’t use destriers or war horses but find a lesser breed that is expendable and armor them. Simulate an attack to see if the men break ranks. If we lose a horse or two, let them eat it. They had better acquire a taste for horse if they’re going to war.”
“My king, it’s forbidden to eat horse in this kingdom,” Terry objected.
“Not in my kingdom,” The Man coldly replied. “You will eat what you are given or die. If they won’t eat horse, they can starve. And if they die, so be it. This isn’t an inn. A few men dying here may save thousands on the field with discipline. Don’t forget, it needs to be real. Do you remember how scared you were when you faced your first battle?” The Man stated.
“Yes, my king. In my state, at my age, I know I can’t give you much more on the field but I can get everything and then some out of your men. I fought hard for a king I had never even seen. I can get these men to fight a thousand time
s harder knowing their king fights alongside them. You are a king of the people, from the people. You are us. Our hope, our dreams. You can prove that no matter your birth or happenstance, any man can be a king. You are the lowborn beacon of hope, my king. And most of the kingdom consists of the lowborn,” Terry proudly told him.
“Those are quite gracious words and I am humbled by them,” The Man responded. “It is truth, my king. May I tend to my men now?”
The Man said, “Why, I insist. Don’t forget to sign your contract tomorrow so payments can begin. Benroy will have someone contact you on the morrow, my good man.”
“Fare thee well, my king.” Terry went after the new recruits as The Man and Benroy walked around the outside of the castle. They found a couple of tree stumps on the side of the path and sat down for a moment.
Benroy said, “I took the liberty to see to the construction of siege weapons and river boats. They had production on ocean vessels in progress, mostly merchant, but we sent more men to help with war ships. I sent spies down the river to report back as to how big we can make boats without running adrift.”
The Man was impressed. He said, “Don’t forget the Frozen Forest hasn’t fully thawed yet. The tide will rise as the season goes on. I like that you take, uh, what’s the word?”
“I believe, initiative is what you’re looking for, your majesty,” Benroy helped. “Yes, thank you. What else have you done without my having to ask?” The Man asked.
“We have taken some of the hopeless men out of field training and sent them out to help with building for the effort. I have other men surveying the lands to make in-depth maps of some of the routes that lead to Falconhurst. We need to know exactly where the advantageous pieces of earth are, my king,” Benroy reported.
“Well done, Benroy. Have you ever heard of the position, Grand Duke of Donegal?”
“Yes, of course, your majesty,” Benroy quickly replied.
The Man enjoyed the sound of ‘your majesty’ and spoke, “When you attend the meeting today, you will do so as Grand Duke. We will need to rebuild the realm after we destroy it. You will control all the hand selected dukes and remain close to me. Who better than Benroy the Builder? You will have more gold than even you can count.”
Benroy got on one knee, “I am humbled, my king.” “Rise, rise and don’t ever kneel again when it’s only us. We are equals, yes we have our titles and roles, but I need you to succeed. Now, we must attend this council meeting,” The Man announced as the castle bell struck two.
As they walked, Benroy spoke, “I have men scouting the Blue Caps right now but they still look unbreachable, especially if the enemy is waiting on top of the passes or along the other side. The enemy can get information once we start to move and block any passage. I also took women designated to watch over the children and employed them in the kitchens. I then took the male cooks and reassigned them as builders. None seemed fit for battle, but they can mindlessly carry stone or run in the wheel.”
“We will always need men to simply die and slow down an opponent. Men will be sacrificed and it will be up to their Gods to sort them out,” he gruffly stated. The Man let his men practice any religion they wanted. Fights tended to break out in camp but he found soldiers fought harder for the Gods they had freely chosen, not ones forced upon them. The Man looked up ahead to see his men dragging an ebony-skinned woman along. Her arms and legs were bound with iron manacles.
“Your highness, this bitch…we found ‘er in Morningstar. She killed a dozen men ‘fore we captured her. We tried to kill ‘er but when we raised our swords to strike ‘er, they were frozen in air. She says she can only be killed by the king what commands her,” the guard said.
“It’s who commands her, and that who is me,” the Man corrected. “Fair enough, stay still then.” The Man with the Golden Sword drew his gleaming weapon and approached.
“I could help, you know,” she hinted. The Man paused for a moment. “How could you help me?”
“I have friends who help me and I could then help you,” she calmly stated. “What friends? I only see enemies that don’t take too kindly to a woman killing their brothers in arms,” he returned.
The Man felt a sudden gripping pressure on his neck. He frantically scratched and clawed at his throat but couldn’t feel anything or stop whatever it was. It felt like an invisible giant had grabbed hold of his neck and wouldn’t let go. The intensity of the stranglehold increased as he choked and fought for air. His face started to turn blue and his eyes reddened and bulged.
“My king,” Benroy hastily ran to assist The Man who felt like he was going to die, when the pressure was instantly released and sweet air found its way into his lungs once again.
He stared at the woman, who had a smirk on her face, and spoke through a bout of coughing, “How…how did you do that?”
“I told you I have friends. I borrowed hands. I can help you get across the Blue Cap mountains; that is the biggest problem, no?”
“How did you hear that?” the confused king demanded. “I borrowed ears. My friends are generous and plentiful with all the senses. I can borrow eyes to look around the mountains and find an opening.”
The Man stood, stupefied. The Crippler had tried to teach The Man magic but the results never panned out. It intrigued him to think that he could learn from someone else.
“Can you see the future?” he asked. “I can,” the woman quickly responded.
“See if I will sit the throne of Donegal,” he ordered. “I cannot.”
“Why?” The Man asked. “I need my ball to help me to see. Your men, if that’s what you call them, didn’t give me a chance to bring my belongings,” she smoothly replied.
The Man looked to the guards, “Do you remember where her place was located?”
“Yes, my king,” three of the five men answered. “Leave right now and bring all her belongings back immediately, and intact, or heads will roll,” The Man ordered.
“My king, meaning no disrespect…” One guard started until he felt the glare of cold blue eyes beating down on him and stopped. He just looked at The Man apologetically. “Leave now,” The Man commanded and the guards ran off.
“Benroy, free our new friend here,” he said. “No need,” said the prisoner who magically opened the wrist restraints and dropped them to the ground with her ankle shackles that she simply stepped out of.
“Benroy,” he said as he stared at the woman. “Yes, majesty,” his stunned colleague responded. The Man continued, “Show this woman to an appropriate room suited for an honored guest with full amenities, under one condition.” He turned to the prisoner, “Bend the knee and pledge fealty to your king,”
She quickly answered, “I will not. My knee bends for no man. My knee will never bend from force. My knee will bend and only bend when I deem you are worthy. I am a free woman, only a spirit in a body, and my spirit belongs to no man. Anyone can kill my body but nobody will ever kill my spirit. Would you bend a forced knee for the reigning king of Donegal? It is your duty after all. From what you have witnessed from me, you must realize that I could easily escape if I so wished. I can be of great help but I will bend a knee to the king of my choosing when the time is appropriate. I will not be forced into anything by someone I just met.”
For some reason she intrigued The Man with her spirit of challenge. He usually hated it when anyone, especially women, questioned his authority but this woman’s argument made sense. He knew she could also aid in the war effort. It also helped that The Man thought she looked amazing and loved the intoxicating smell she seemed to possess. He sniffed red rose buds with stems of long vanilla beans. He wanted to see more of this woman.
“We will sup together tonight. You will learn more about your future king,” he smiled.
“I should like that plenty,” she winked. “If there is anything you desire, be sure to ask,” The Man offered his guest.
“Alright, may I leave?” she joked. “Absolutely not, anything else?” he stared into her
green eyes.
“Until our supper,” she finished with a sexy look. “Benroy, tend to our guest and then meet me in the council room,” he ordered. “At once, my king.” Benroy led the released prisoner toward the castle.
They got about twenty feet away when The Man shouted, “I nearly forgot, what is your name?”
“Gamelda,” she yelled. “And I am The…” Gamelda cut in, “Man with the Golden Sword. I am aware of that but not your intentions for the kingdom,” she smiled and continued on with Benroy.
The Man waited in the windowless stone room for Benroy. Three whores waved giant fans to cool the room but the heat persisted. The fans were imported from Gama Traka by the former Duke. They took two hands to operate and were made of bamboo and black silk. The Grand Duke showed up and the meeting commenced. To The Man, this was the most boring aspect of being king. He liked to conquer, not worry about court and council. The Man wanted to be in total control of the military operations but cared little about the small quibbles and posturing for support that every king had to contend with.
The Crippler started, “I have sent representatives to the districts of Shadow Town, First Foot and Kings Reach to find a way to slay those damned Blue Caps. We will find out shortly if anyone is sympathetic to our cause. We must think about what promises we can fulfill to entice allegiance. We need to find a way to marry you off to a powerful family in exchange for military support and gold.”
The Man held an empty silver tankard in the air and the nude whore he employed as a cup bearer filled it to the top with red wine. He gave the woman a playful slap on the ass as she bounced her backside away. “Must we have whores at our meetings? They do anything for money. Someone could easily pay them to spy on us,” the Crippler warned.
Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2) Page 20
