The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (37 page)

The
next day, Yozef never spoke with Culich to get a hint about why he was there.
He wondered if it was simply one of those “all hands on deck” things, and he
was now one of the “hands” because he was part of the family. He caught only
brief glimpses of Breda. Most of the time he waited with the other Abersford
men, which included sleeping on the ground both nights—whether by intent for
him to be among the men or because the Keelans forgot about him now being part
of the family, he didn’t know.

When
they left Caernford, Yozef admitted it was an impressive sight. The road to
Moreland only fit three horses abreast or one wagon, so the column stretched more
than a mile. Yozef and his two caretakers were part of a group of about fifty attached
to the hetman—personal guards, advisors, senior commanders, and the head
medicant and theophist from St. Tomo’s.

As
far as he could tell, the closest to organization of the men was that groups of
50 to 100 had a leader whom Yozef hoped knew what he was doing. Other than that,
it resembled a mob. They took all day to reach the Moreland border. By then,
they had met up with another 600 Keelanders, 400 Gwillamese, and 600 Mittackese.
The 2,200 heavily armed horsemen, 500 extra mounts, and 90 to 100 wagons of
supplies and support personnel, such as medicants and cooks, were out of an
epic, one Yozef would have preferred to watch in a theater, rather than be a
part of.

Carnigan
didn’t help by commenting that some of the wagons containing grain for the
horses would carry the dead and the wounded back to Keelan once the wagons were
empty.

Moreland
City

How
far the complete force stretched was not apparent until, from one crest, Yozef
looked back and could see the column disappear into the distance over another
hill two miles away. When they bivouacked for the evening, the column divided
itself into groups of about two hundred and set up temporary camps for staking
the horses, eating, and sleeping on the ground or in tents, using the
Caedellium version of ponchos made of water-repellant animal hide. The next
morning, they were up at the first hint of light to be fed and on the road by
the time Yozef could identify the face next to him.

As
they crossed the Keelan/Moreland border, Yozef noticed piles of fresh horse
dung already flattened by the first fifty horses. He suddenly had a feeling of wonder
imagining what it must be like at the end of the column, where the accumulated
shit of 3,000 horses carpeted the roadbed. He almost insanely giggled, hoping
the local farmers took advantage of the unexpected plethora of fertilizer.

When
they were within twenty miles of the Moreland capital, the land flattened and
the column spread out into the adjacent fields. One advantage was that traffic
in the other directions could use the flanking areas, instead of waiting for
the Tri-Clan column to pass. That reverse traffic consisted of wagons loaded
with belongings, Yozef assumed fleeing for some hoped-for safety elsewhere, and
single riders on lathered horses—probably messengers going who knew where with
whatever messages. Every hour or so, a messenger or a small group of riders
would stop at the Keelan hetman’s grouping and race back where they’d come
from.

He
knew they’d arrived when they came upon the first encampments of other clans.
Carnigan and Denes explained which ones. First Hewell, then Adris and Orosz.
Four riders, two of whom carried green flags with red Xs, stopped at the head
of the column and spoke with Culich, who in turn spoke with aides. The flagmen
directed them to a bivouac area set aside for the Tri-Clans, within sight of
Moreland City’s walls. It took an hour for the entire column to move into their
area and most of another hour to set up an encampment in the same groupings as
on the road. Horses were watered and fed on grain they’d brought from Keelan.
Men were fed hot stew of some undetermined meat and loaves of the usual dark
bread. Yozef was surprised at how fast cooking fires were set up and already-cooked
stew heated to boiling. By then it was dark, and all were told to sleep, the
implication being that tomorrow might see a battle. A few simple tents
appeared, although most of the men would sleep again on the ground that night.

It
was not quite light enough to read the next morning when Denes came and said
Culich wanted Yozef to accompany them to a hetman conference being held in a
large farmhouse a mile from the city and approximately in the middle of the
encampments.

“Nine
clans came,” said Denes. “Hetman Keelan is surprised so many. I hope it’s
enough to turn back the Narthani.”

Forty-eight
men were crowded into the room: ten hetmen, plus other clan members. Yozef did
a quick count, as he and Denes stood along a back wall. The hetmen sat in
chairs around a rectangular table in the center of the room. One of the
occupied chairs was larger than the other nine.

Five’ll
get me ten he’s the Moreland hetman
.
Denes had said he was a jerk.

He
looked it: arrogant eyes, a shorter-than-average trimmed beard that contrasted
with a pompadour-like head of gray hair, and enough jewelry and embroidery on
his cloak to remind Yozef of a strutting peacock. 

Mr.
Pompadour rose to his feet, surveyed the room as if he were doing an
inspection, and spoke. “First of all, Moreland wishes to thank all of you for
answering our invitation to help drive Narthani from Moreland lands.”

Now
I
know
he’s a jerk. And stupid. It’s like he’s doing all the others a favor by
allowing
them to fight for him.

The
hetmen whose faces Yozef could see remained expressionless. Yozef suspected
they all knew the Moreland hetman and weren’t surprised by the opening remark.
They wasted the next half hour with the same meaningless blather Yozef had seen
in meetings on Earth, each hetman introducing himself, although everyone
obviously knew the others, thanking Moreland for its hospitality, swearing
death to all Narthani, boasting about what they would do to these evil
invaders, blah, blah, blah. Yozef wished he could leave and come back when they
were through posturing.

It
was Culich who got them down to business.

“Gynfor,
please give us the current situation. Exactly where are the Narthani and what
are they doing?”

The
Moreland hetman frowned, and Yozef wondered whether it was because Culich used
his first name or because he had more posturing to do before getting down to real
business.

“They
are encamped southwest of here.” He motioned to another Morelander. “Caedem,
open up the map.” A dark-haired young man with a Van Dyke beard pulled a folded
sheet of paper out of a satchel and opened it onto the table.

Denes
whispered to Yozef, “That’s Caedem Moreland, younger son of the hetman. Sitting
next to him is Owain Moreland, the hetman’s older son
.
”

Yozef
thought the younger son looked normal. The older brother had some of the same
in-your-face arrogance of the father, although, instead of the big hairdo, his
brown hair was lank and disorderly.

When
the map was laid out, the Moreland hetman pointed with a finger to Moreland
City. The map covered approximately twenty miles on all sides of the city.
“Here’s Moreland City, and the Narthani bastards are right now camped six miles
southwest. We’re right here . . .” He moved his finger to an arc between the
city and the Narthani army, closer to the city.

“That
close?” asked one of the younger hetmen, a sharp-eyed balding man with a trim
beard. “How fast have they been moving? They could be on us early tomorrow
morning!”

“That’s
Welman Stent, hetman of Clan Stent,” Denes whispered.

Moreland
hesitated, then leaned on the map with his right hand while answering Stent. “I
think they are having second thoughts now that they see the clans coming to
help us drive them back. They haven’t moved the last two days.”

“Haven’t
moved!” exclaimed the youngest of the hetman, a man of his early twenties.

“Lordum
Hewell, Clan Hewell,” Denes said quietly.

Moreland
ignored Hewell, a slight not to be missed, which raised a flush on Hewell’s
face when Moreland continued.

“They
reached their current position three days ago, encamped, and haven’t moved
since. I think our only decision is whether we give them more time to withdraw
or attack them immediately. I offer the first alternative only to show I am
open to discussion. My belief is we attack and destroy them. Now that most of
their men are out in the open, it is our chance to end the Narthani threat,
once and for all.”

Yozef
could see from the hetmen’s expressions that none were as enthusiastic as
Moreland for a battle with the Narthani.

One
of the more elderly hetman, a short man in his late fifties or early sixties
with an unkempt long gray beard and medium-length gray hair swept back, raised
a hand to signal he wished to speak, which he did without waiting for Moreland
to acknowledge him.

“I
thought your first messages said that they crossed into Moreland five days ago.
Have they been stopping like this other places?”

“No,
they continued until their current location,” replied Moreland.

“That
means they were only traveling about six to eight miles a day, even before they
stopped. That doesn’t make sense. An invader would want to keep pushing to
retain surprise and overwhelm Moreland before help from other clans arrived.”

“Again,”
said Moreland, “they’re afraid of getting too committed.”

“Maybe,”
said a hefty hetman in his middle thirties with shoulder-length brown hair and a
full, neatly trimmed beard, “but this feels bad. As if they have something
planned.”

“Even
if they do,” another hetman spoke up, “we still have to decide what we’re going
to do. I agree with caution, but if Hetman Moreland is correct, this may be, as
he says, our best chance to rid Caedellium of them.”

A
tall, lean hetman with salt-and-pepper hair spoke for the first time. “Hetman
Moreland, I’ve heard rumors that most of their men are on foot. Is this true?”

“Teresz
Bultecki,” Denes murmured. “One of the northern clans. He’s one of the more
reasonable hetmen from the north. Some of the others have been as much trouble
as the Narthani, though not for some years, since the conclaves have stopped
most raids and fighting between clans.”

A
chorus of exclamations and sighs swept through the room: “On foot!”

“Are
they insane? We’ll ride them down!”

“Is
that true?”

“No
horses at all?”

“We
should attack at once!”

Moreland
finally called them all to settle down with a snide expression. “That is one
reason I’m so confident. And yes, there’s some truth to the rumor, although it’s
not completely accurate. As far as we can estimate, they have two to three
thousand horsemen and another five to six thousand on foot.”

“That
would explain how slow they’ve been,” said Stent.

“Not
completely,” cautioned Hewell. “Even on foot, they should have covered more
than six miles a day. And that certainly doesn’t explain sitting where they are
the last two days.”

Yozef
leaned into Denes’s ear. “Good infantry can cover twenty-five miles a day, even
over broken country.”

Denes
whispered back, “What’s
infantry
?”

Yozef
had unconsciously used the English word. He couldn’t think of a comparable
Caedellium one.

“Men
fighting on foot. Like our dragoons, except without horses at all.”

“I
can see fighting on foot with towns or forts and, of course, where horses can’t
go. Why are the Narthani not mounted? Could they not have enough horses?”

Yozef
shook his head, while thinking,
Oh shit. I keep forgetting the Caedelli have
no history of army maneuvering or the capabilities of infantry
.

Stent
voiced Denes’s question to Yozef. “Maybe they don’t have enough horses to mount
all their men?”

“Unlikely,”
said Culich. “Within the three provinces they control, there are more than
enough horses. No, this is deliberate and agrees with reports we’re gotten from
escaped slaves. The Narthani have many of their fighters on foot and clustered
together in groups of hundreds.”

Yozef
was mumbling and cursing to himself—at least, he thought it was to himself.

Denes
nudged him. “What is it, Yozef? What’re you thinking?”

Denes
didn’t wait for an answer and made his way to Culich’s chair, leaned over, and
whispered in an ear.

Culich’s
expression didn’t change, nor did he look in Yozef’s direction, but he spoke
over the general hubbub. “Hetman Moreland, the Narthani horsemen we’ve seen
were armed with muskets, swords, and lances, and I understand the Narthani
coastal raiders are armed in the same, except for shorter spears. Can you tell
us if these Narthani on foot are armed in the same fashion?”

“Some
of the footmen have muskets. The odd thing is that others have spears much
longer than we’ve seen before. There’s no way they can throw such long spears
any distance or fight with them, so it’s a puzzle.”