Maniakes stared across the Tib, a discontented expression on his face. The river ran strongly toward the north, blocking his way across it, blocking his way toward Mashiz. Beside him, Ypsilantes also looked unhappy. The engineer's earlier confidence now seemed misplaced. «The spring floods are strong and long this year,» he remarked.
«So they are,» Maniakes said. «It is as Phos wills.» Even as he spoke the words, he wondered why the good god would prevent Makuran from being chastised for all its people had done to Videssos and to Phos himself. Maybe the Makuraner God held some sway here, after all. Or maybe the God was in league with Skotos against the lord with the great and good mind.
Across the Tib, parties of Makuraner foot soldiers looked to be readying a warm reception for the Videssians. Back out of sight, back behind the imperial army, that infantry force Maniakes had evaded was still dogging his heels. Their general didn't have all the resources Abivard had enjoyed the year before, but he was making the most of what he did have.
He was on Ypsilantes' mind, too. The chief engineer said, «We haven't the time to sit down in one place and work out what all it will take to cross the river with it running the way it is. If we do sit down, we'll have a battle on our hands sooner than we'd like.»
«Yes.» Maniakes fixed him with a sour stare. «I thought you said you could come up with any number of expedients for getting over the Tib.»
«For one thing, your Majesty, like I say, I didn't figure it'd be running so high,» Ypsilantes replied with some dignity. «And, for another, I did expect more time to work. An army that's digging a canal to divert the Tib can't leave off and start fighting again at a moment's notice.»
«If you spoke so plain to Sharbaraz, he'd probably thank you by tearing out your tongue,» Maniakes said. «Sometimes what's true matters more than what sounds good at the moment, though. I try to remember that.»
«I know you do, your Majesty,» Ypsilantes answered. «That's why the only people who need fear you are the ones who have done wrong.»
«You're kinder than I deserve,» Maniakes said, «and, if you want to see how kindly I can be, find us a way to get over the Tib no matter how it's running.»
«I'll do everything I can,» the engineer said. «Right now, though. I haven't got any good ideas.»
«They have the bridges of boats that usually run across the river.» Maniakes pointed to the far bank of the Tib. «We won't see any of them. How do we substitute without using those palm trees you hate so much? How do we make sure we don't have to use the natives' horrible boats made of skins?»
«Common sense is plenty to make sure we don't want those boats,» Ypsilantes said. He looked unhappy again, now at the world rather than at Maniakes in particular. «What's left, then?» the Avtokrator asked. «We need boats of some sort or another, your Majesty,» Ypsilantes replied. «If we can't get anything better, those hide monstrosities will have to do. We need timber. If we can't get anything better, that will have to come from date palms. And if we have to use all those things I wish we didn't, we'll also need more time to get a bridge ready than we would otherwise.»
«What about using the timbers from the stone-throwers and dart-throwers as pieces of the bridge?» Maniakes said.
Ypsilantes shook his head. «We'll need at least some of those engines. When we get within a bowshot of the western bank of the Tib, we'll have to drive back the Makuraner archers so we can extend the bridge all the way out to the end.»
«You know best.» Maniakes took on some of the engineer's jaundiced approach to the topic. «I wish you hadn't told me we'll need more time than we might if we had better materials around here.» He held up a hasty hand. «No, I'm not blaming you. But I don't want to fight those Makuraner foot soldiers slogging after us somewhere back there, not if I can help it.» He turned back toward the east.
«I understand that, your Majesty,» Ypsilantes said. «I'll do everything I can to push the work ahead.» He rubbed his chin. «What I really worry about is Abivard coming out of whatever bushes he's using to hide himself and hitting us a lick when it hurts the most.»
«I'd be lying if I said that thought hadn't also occurred to me.» Maniakes looked east again. «I wish I knew where he was. Even if he were someplace where I couldn't do anything about him– the same way I can't do anything about the Kubratoi—knowing what he might be able to do to me would take a good-sized weight off my mind.»
«That's it, your Majesty,» Ypsilantes agreed. «You can't fight a campaign looking over your shoulder every hour of the day and night, waiting for him to pop up like a hand puppet in a show. Or rather, you can, but you'd be a lot better off if you didn't have to.»
«We'd be better off if a lot of things were different,» Maniakes said. «But they're not, so we're going to have to deal with them as they are.»
«That's so, too, your Majesty,» Ypsilantes said, sounding as if he wished he could engineer the unfortunate condition right out of existence.
Maniakes sent men up and down the length of the Tib and the major canals nearby. They came back with a few boats of various sorts—fewer than he and Ypsilantes had hoped. The Avtokrator also set men to work chopping down date palms so they could use the rather stringy timber they got from them.
That outraged the inhabitants of the Land of the Thousand Cities more than anything else he had done up till then: more even than his having burned a good many of those cities. The farmers fought the lumbering parties as best they could, and began ambushing Videssian soldiers whenever they caught a few away from the main mass of men.
In the pavilion she shared with Maniakes, Lysia held up a jar of date wine, saying, «You'd think the local peasants would thank us for getting rid of the trees that let them make thick, sweet slop like this.»
«Yes, I know,» Maniakes said. «I first drank date wine when I was helping my father put Sharbaraz back on the throne. As far as I can see, the only people who like it are those who know no better.»
«That's what I think of it, too,» Lysia said. «But—»
«Yes, but,» Maniakes agreed. «The locals are bushwhacking us, and some of my men have taken to massacring them whenever they get the chance.» He sighed. «They do something, we pay them back, they do something worse—where does it end?»
Lysia didn't answer, perhaps because the answer was obvious: it ended with the two of them close by the Tib, with their gazes set on Mashiz beyond the river. Eventually, one side hit the other such a blow that it could not respond. That put an end to the fighting– for a generation, sometimes even two.
«Once we break into Mashiz,» Maniakes said, «the Makuraners won't be able to stay in the field against us.» He'd been saying that ever since he'd first conceived of the notion of bypassing the Videssian westlands and taking the war straight to the heart of the realm of the King of Kings. He still believed it. Before long, he hoped to find out whether he was right.
Thinking along with him as she often did, Lysia asked, «How soon can we cross the Tib and make for the capital?»
«A few more days, Ypsilantes tells me,» Maniakes answered. «The squabbles with the peasants have slowed things up, but we finally have enough boats and almost enough timber. Get a little more wood, cut it to the right lengths, and then over the river we go.»
Lysia looked westward. «And then it will be over.» She did not speak in tones of blithe confidence. One way or the other, her words suggested. Maniakes did not try to reprove or correct her. After all the misfortunes he had watched as they befell Videssos, how could he? One way or the other was what he felt, too. Nothing was certain till it happened.
As if to prove that, one of his guards called from outside the tent: «Your Majesty, a scout is here with news.»
«I'll come,» he said, and did.
The scout had already dismounted. He started to perform a proskynesis, but Maniakes, impatient to hear what he had to say, waved for him not to bother prostrating himself. The scout did salute, then said, «Your Majesty, I hate to tell you this, but all those foot sold
iers we bypassed back near Qostabash are about to catch up with us again.»
«Oh, a pestilence!» Maniakes burst out, and spent the next couple of minutes swearing with an inventiveness that left the scout pop-eyed. The Avtokrator did not care. He'd spent more time as soldier than as sovereign and had learned how to vent his spleen.
Gradually, he calmed. He and Ypsilantes had known this might happen. Now it had. They would have to make the best of it. The scout watched him. After a moment, the fellow nodded and chuckled once or twice. «Your Majesty, I think there's going to be some Makuraner infantry out there—» He pointed east. «—sorry they were ever born.»
«By the good god, I hope so.» Maniakes stared east, off toward that approaching force of infantry. «You saw only foot soldiers toe?» he demanded of the scout. «None of the Makuraners' boiler boys?»
«No, your Majesty, none to speak of,» the scout answered. «They have a few horsemen with 'em, scouts and messengers and such, but I didn't see a sign of their heavy cavalry. If they'd been there, I'd have spotted 'em, too. You'd best believe that—those bastards can really fight, and I want to know when they're around.»
«So do I,» Maniakes said in abstracted tones, and then, more to himself than to the man who'd brought the unwelcome news, «To the ice with you, Abivard; where have you gone and hidden?» But even that was not the relevant question: when would Abivard emerge from hiding, and how much trouble would he cause once he did?
The Avtokrator nodded to the scout, dismissing him, then sent one of his guards after Ypsilantes. When the chief engineer arrived, Maniakes told him in a few words what had happened. Ypsilantes heard him out before loosing a long sigh. «Well, your Majesty, they never told us this business was going to be easy, now did they?»
«I'm afraid they didn't—whoever they are,» Maniakes agreed. «Can we protect all the timber we've cut and the boats we've collected while we're fighting these cursed foot soldiers?»
«We'd better,» Ypsilantes said bluntly, which made the Avtokrator glad to have him along. He continued, «Aye, I expect we can. The Makuraner infantry moving on us won't come close to that stuff, not unless somebody really pisses in the stew pot. And if those odds and sods across the river have the nerve to try to sneak over here to this side and tear things up while most of us are busy, I'll be the most surprised man in the Land of the Thousand Cities.» Maniakes corrected him: «The second most surprised man.»
Ypsilantes thought that one through, blinked like a frog swallowing a fly, and barked out a couple of syllables' worth of laughter. «I'll make sure it doesn't happen, your Majesty. Count on me.»
«I will,» Maniakes said. «I do.» He waved Ypsilantes away, then started shouting orders, preparing his force to meet the Makuraners. He had more respect for the foe's foot than he'd brought to their first clashes a couple of years before; they had rapidly turned into real soldiers. He looked around the camp, where his own men were starting to stir. He smiled. They were better warriors than they had been a couple of years before, too.
The red-lion banner of Makuran flapped lazily in a light breeze. The enemy standard-bearer was an enormous man with shoulders like a bull's. Maniakes was glad to see him used for ornamental purposes rather than as a true fighter. Every little edge helped.
The Avtokrator looked out over the battle line advancing behind the standard-bearer. The Makuraner general disposed of more men than he did. Since the fight was infantry against cavalry, that mattered less than it would have had he been facing Abivard and the field army. It did not leave him delighted with the world, even so.
Most of the foot soldiers in the enemy army were not, strictly speaking, Makuraners, but rather men from the Thousand Cities. They were shorter and stockier and a little swarthier than the boiler boys from the high plateau to the west, with hair so black it shone with blue highlights, often worn in a neat bun resting on the nape of the neck. Their chief weapon was the bow; they carried knives and clubs for fighting at close quarters. Some of them wore helmets: businesslike iron pots, or sometimes leather caps strengthened with iron bands. Past that, the only armor they bore was their wicker shields.
They could fight. Maniakes had seen that. They hadn't done much fighting in the years before the Videssians had plunged into the Land of the Thousand Cities, but, as he'd thought a little while before, they'd learned their trade since. That was partly Abivard's fault—or to his credit, if you looked at things from the Makuraner point of view. It was also partly Maniakes' fault. By fighting a series of battles against the local infantry, he'd given them a course in how to go about fighting Videssians. Some of them had learned better than he would have wished.
He nodded to Rhegorios, who sat his horse beside Maniakes and Antelope, and pointed out toward the enemy infantry. «See– they're laying down some sort of barricade to keep us from charging home against them. Thornbushes, maybe, or something like that»
«We aren't planning on charging in among them right away anyhow, though,» his cousin answered. «That kind of barrier would do more against Makuraner heavy cavalry, the kind that closes on you with the lance, than it does against our horse-archers.»
«It'll be a nuisance for our men, too,» Maniakes said, «and they're liable to pull the barricade away if they see a good place to come charging right out at us. In the fights last fall, as we were pulling back toward Lyssaion, their infantry was as aggressive as any general could want.»
«Of course, they were working alongside cavalry of their own then,» Rhegorios said. «They won't be so tough without the boiler boys here.»
Mention of the Makuraner heavy cavalry was plenty to make Maniakes look north and then south, wondering still where Abivard was and how and when he might appear. When the Videssian army was locked in combat with the local infantry seemed a good bet.
«You'll get the right wing,» Maniakes told his cousin when Abivard once more failed to materialize. «I won't give you any detailed orders about what to do with it, but you can move faster than foot soldiers. If you can flank them out of their position, that would be a good thing to do.»
«Easier if they weren't cutting more canals,» Rhegorios observed. «But I will try—you know that.»
«Everything would be easier if they didn't make it harder,» Maniakes said, which drew a nod and a laugh from his cousin. He went on, «Keep scouts out wide on your flank, too. Abivard's lurking out there somewhere.»
«Maybe he's fallen into that Void where the Makuraners are always consigning people they don't like,» Rhegorios said. «But that would be too much to hope for, wouldn't it? Aye, I'll watch for him. And you, cousin, you keep a good watch on your other flank, too.»
«I'll watch as carefully as a Makuraner noble checking his women's quarters to make sure nobody sneaks in.» The Avtokrator slapped Rhegorios on his mailed back. «Now, let's see what kind of dance we'll have with all these lovely people, shall we?»
«They've come a long way. We wouldn't want to disappoint them.» Rhegorios looked thoughtful. «We've come a long way, too.»
«So we have,» Maniakes said. «We wouldn't want to disappoint us, either.»
Rhegorios rode off to take charge of his wing of the army. The Makuraners were leaving the choice of when and how to begin the battle to the imperials. Under most circumstances, Maniakes would also have had the option of whether to begin the battle at all, as his horsemen were more mobile than the infantry opposing them. But, having almost completed his preparations for fording the Tib, he could not abandon the timber and boats without losing them and abandoning his plans as well. Unwilling to do that, Maniakes knew he had to fight here.
He watched Rhegorios and his division ride out for the flanking maneuver they might or might not prove able to bring off. Wanting to keep his center strong, he sent a smaller force off to the left. He warned Immodios, who was commanding it, to keep an eye out for Abivard.
«I'll do that, your Majesty,» the officer answered. «If he does show up, we'll stop him cold, I promise you.»
«Go
od man,» Maniakes said. If Abivard showed up with a good-sized force of boiler boys, Immodios wasn't going to stop him. The Avtokrator knew that. He hoped Immodios did, too. With luck, though, the horsemen on the left would slow down a cavalry attack from the flank enough to give the center some hope of dealing with it.
Horns brayed out orders for the advance. As the Videssians drew near, their opponents shouted curses at them in the Makuraner tongue and in the harsher, more guttural language of the Thousand Cities. «Ignore those vicious calumnies, whatever they may mean,» a blue-robed priest of Phos declared. «Go forth to victory and glory, defending the true and holy faith of Phos with all the weapons of war. Go forth, and may the lord with the great and good mind shine down upon you and light your way forward.»
A few men cheered. More—those who had already heard a lot of priests' homilies and seen a lot of battles won or lost or drawn– savored the rhetoric without letting it carry them away. Phos would do as he pleased, they would do as they pleased, and eventually the fight would have a winner.
The first arrows began flying soon thereafter. Whoever commanded the Makuraner army had a fine grasp of logistics, because the foot soldiers from the Land of the Thousand Cities shot and shot and shot, showing not the slightest sign that they were likely to run out of the shafts anytime soon. Such a barrage bespoke endless slow-trundling wagons filled with endless bundles of arrows. Seeing their flight was like watching a great swarm of locusts taking off from one field to descend in another.
The Videssians shot back. They were less well supplied with missiles than their foes. On the other hand, when one of their shafts struck a soldier from the Makuraner army, it usually wounded. The reverse was not true, their chain mail holding many arrows at bay. «Get in among them and they're ours!» Maniakes shouted, urging his men forward despite the swarm of enemy arrows.
But getting in among the soldiers from the Makuraner army Was anything but easy. The soldiers they had stationed immediately behind their thornbush barricades sent arrows flying out as far as they could. The second line of men from the Thousand Cities lobbed shafts high over the heads of the first line, so that those arrows came down on anyone who had reached the barricade and was trying to tear it away. All in all, it was like going forward in a rain of iron-tipped wood.
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