Chapter 18

“The Prince has signaled the advance,” the noble shouted from his stallion, the early morning mist swirling around him. “Why haven’t you mounted?”

“We’re in no hurry,” I commented, rising from the log my family was sitting on, taking a last bite of my tasty venison. “We’re keeping an eye on Princess Wyrd.”

“Listen here, when the army commander says something you will do it! The Black Prince said I am in charge of the Rear Guard. Obviously, that includes your men. Get going!” The young noble snapped. Not waiting for a reply, he spurred his horse away from our campsite, trotting towards the carriages. The regiments were already marching north, out of the meadow onto the road, following the Black Prince and the nobles riding with him on their stallions.

I looked at Julie and Zetia, and then the satellite imagery again. “Give it half an hour and the Amarian scouts will run into the Raider’s march column on the road. The slavers broke camp long before dawn, so I’d say they’ve been on the road a couple of hours.”

“Enough time to get their blood going and open their lungs after a long night of snoring,” Zetia commented. “The sun might burn off this mist by the time we run into them.” Zetia looked behind us, commenting. “All the tents are packed and our animals are ready to go.”

I noticed Julie surveying the regimental encampment with her experienced eyes. Tendrils of smoke were still rising from their dying campfires, and the incessant cries of gulls filled the air above us.

“The Princess has just mounted a white mare. Look, the Royal archers have formed up too,” she said.

“Good enough for me. Mount up!” I bellowed to Sergeant Scratch who was inspecting our men by the mules. He repeated my orders and added a couple of curses to motivate the Wolves. I wiped my hands, and then clipped on my PDA, while hurrying to our animals.

After we mounted and formed up into two columns, Julie leaned over her mule. “What are you going to do about the Prince’s man?”

“Ignore him,” I said.

“Thought so,” Julie answered, and then we shared a smile. Around us light clouds hid the sun and pine-clad hills blocked the sea breeze.

Soon we caught up with the rear of the Princess’s escorts and settled down to a comfortable pace behind them. Not much later, we came out of the hills into an area that was sandy with lots of wind-swept dunes. The road was built on high ground, and as the slope descended toward the water on our right, rolling mounds of sand created a desolate looking landscape. The sandy ground had patches of thistles and ferns with occasional clumps of purplish wildflowers. To the left of the road, the terrain was flatter with a couple of small hills that ran before a ridge line, which protected the forest beyond from any fierce seaward storms. I noticed the mist had lifted from this area.

For the most part, we rode, lost in our own contemplations as the land flattened out more. We had crossed a babbling brook that watered a few gnarled trees when horns along the column signaled an alert. Our silent mood changed into excitement.

Julie stared into the clouds. “We made our choice. I am glad to be here with you, but it’s time to pay the price.”

“There will be death and destruction, but not ours,” I reassured her.

“No, not ours,” she agreed, unsnapping her holster.

Zetia must have overhead us; from behind she chanted, “Lord Wolf!”

All our Wolves copied her. “Lord Wolf, Lord Wolf!”

Julie grinned at me, looking pleased with Zetia’s words. I couldn’t help but grin back at her, and then I spurred my mule forward to close the distance to the Princess’s escort. Eventually, Julie and I caught up to Princess Wyrd.

“Let’s hope your brother is sensible and sets up our line abreast a hillock,” I greeted her.

“This being his first battle, you might want to tell him that,” Princess Wyrd replied, comfortably riding with the rhythm of her horse’s movement. Her men-at-arms didn’t look happy I’d ridden so close to her. Each of them wore a form-fitting chainmail shirt that showed off their masculine physique and were riding with a hand on their sword’s hilt; were I to have missed that aggressive display, their protective eyes were marking me with a predator’s threat. They were true warriors that took their responsibilities seriously.

“Sorry, that won’t work. I am currently not in your brother’s good graces,” I commented.

“Yes, I heard about you cutting up one of his prized mercenaries. Was that really necessary?” she asked, displacing some hair that was in her eyes with a sweep of her hand.

“The man cast a serious insult against Lord Wolf and his troops, and your brother pushed him further by placing a large wager on the outcome of a friendly duel,” Julie commented, coming to my defense.

“I heard that too,” she commented. “However, I don’t like duels over a man’s honor.”

“Thankfully, Von was compassionate and ended it quickly with little damage,” Julie added, laughing.

Princess Wyrd looked partly amused while looking down at us on our mules; she kicked her horse and sped past us. Her entire escort galloped ahead, leaving us in their dust.

“She really doesn’t like duels,” I said.

“I don’t know,” Julie responded with a twinkle in her eyes. “I don’t think she will mind having an intelligent and able man around during this battle.”

Impulsively, I kicked my mule and spurred it on, trying to keep the distance between Princess Wyrd and the Wolves from growing too great. To the Prince’s credit he did form his battle line on a slight rise. It was more of a hump in the road than a mound or hill, but he had no real alternative. It wouldn’t have done us any good to retreat to the brook we had crossed, since it was only three steps wide; however, if we had fallen back to the line of hills closer to our campground we’d had a true high ground advantage. Although, I couldn’t see the Prince’s ego letting him fall back. “Nevertheless, at least he had the sense to keep the carriages well back from the battle lines,” I thought.

The mercenaries were deployed on the right flank near the bay, which was their anchor. No one was getting around them without going into the water. On the left of the mercenary company’s line was the 3^rd regiment, which was similarly deployed in line; but since they had more men than the mercenaries they held a company of men to their rear as a reserve. The 2^nd and 1^st regiment were on the other side of the King’s North Road, extending the battle line a full five rows deep. The sun glinting off their bronze armor and spear tips was an impressive sight.

The Black Prince’s command group sat on the road in a cluster, their horses dancing around in the excitement. The young nobles were all clearly animated, talking and pointing at the dust cloud ahead of us, which was the approaching enemy. The slavers began deploying into an attack line with a large patch of pine trees just behind them so they could hide their reserves from the Prince’s eyes. Also, sitting on a slightly elevated bit of ground to our far left, were more tall and mature pine trees that marked the edge of a forest. Otherwise, the land between us and our enemy was more or less a barren patch of ground with only a few ferns or shrubs.

However, I was worried about those pine trees that wrapped around our left flank and the animal trails that led through them to the more elevated ground. Given time, the Raiders could move men into the trees to flank us, and if the start of the battle was delayed, they could use the dry gulch, which cut behind our left flank to hide men; the deeply eroded gully was like a snake slithering out of the forest on our far left. The question was how cocky their commander was and how eager for battle. Our opponents were beyond archery range, but if either side decided to charge, it wouldn’t take long before we crossed swords.

Count Vee was with his lancer escort and the Black Prince. When Princess Wyrd joined the noble confab I took the Wolves over to talk with Captain Minetos, who was with his 1^st regiment.

“I don’t like the Princess so close to the front lines,” Captain Minetos said to one of his officers as we rode up. He stroked his horse.

“It does give the men courage,” his company commander answered.

Our arrival interrupted what Captain Minetos was about to say in response. Minetos turned his horse towards me. “Lord Solon,” he said, in greeting. “Lady Julie.”

“Captain,” Julie and I responded, almost at the same time. The Wolves stopped behind us, still in their column of pairs, with our pack animals trailing at a safe distance.

A pair of teens armed with hunting spears and nothing else, galloped over to us on lathered horses that had been well used.

“Uncle, they are spreading out to our left in the trees,” the young nephew jabbered.

“Hilliard, it’s Captain or Sir when we are under arms,” Captain Minetos corrected.

“Yes, Uncle ... Sir. Sorry, Sir,” the handsome teen answered, in a rapid fire manner.

Captain Minetos reached out and tossed the youth’s hair. “You have done a man’s job today, now ride home and inform your mother we have found the enemy.”

Both boys objected with agitated movements of their horse’s reins and body language that screamed teenage rebellion, but neither said a word. However, Captain Minetos didn’t react poorly. “Your horses are no longer useful. Look at them, haven’t you raised them? Do you intend to kill them?” He paused to let them consider his words. “I think not, walk them to the brook in the road. Water them there and rest them, and then do as I say. Your hunting spears are no use to us, except to kill the wounded. Is that the job you seek? You scouted for us at great personal risk. I am proud of both of you men.”

“As you say, Sir!” the other boy answered, looking pale from the thought of killing the wounded. “Let’s go.” He didn’t seem as eager to stay, which swayed Captain Minetos’s nephew. They dismounted and walked their horses towards the road, back the way we had come. Both of the boys praised their horses and promised them a good rest. The solemn looking warriors in the ranks cracked a smile at the departing lads. The whole encounter seemed to lighten their spirits.

“They are fine boys,” the company commander interjected. “They will have a tale to tell after this is all done.”

“I agree,” Julie added, pulling me out of a brief daydream about my teen years, flying the skies of Solon pretending to dogfight imaginary opponents. The excitement and desire to reach my manhood was returned to me in a flash of memory. “I wonder if the warriors are having similar memories?” I thought, turning to look over my shoulders at my own mounted men. Zetia was talking to her companion, and Scratch and Scout were whispering.

“Excuse me,” Captain Minetos announced. “I must review the men.” He saluted us while he rode off; we watched him gallop in front of his entire regiment. His action made me think about what I wanted to do with our men.

“Sergeant Scratch, have the men dismount. I want all of the mules sent back to the area where the Count left his carriage. Assign three men, you can include Scout,” I ordered.

Scout immediately objected. “Lord Solon, I’d like to stay this time.”

“Okay, Scout. I owe you the opportunity to stay if that is your preference,” I responded.

“Thank you, Sir,” he answered with a broad smile.

It took a few minutes for the Wolves to organize the mules, but the enemy didn’t move to advance on us. Julie and I left our bows on our mules since we had to stay aware of the broad scope of the battlefield. Julie encouraged Zetia to keep her bow, so she did. I noticed a number of the younger Amarian warriors gawking at us. It reminded me that Julie and I were still strangers in a strange land; we looked shorter than short to them.

By the time our animals were out of harm’s way, Captain Minetos returned. Surprisingly, Princess Wyrd rode over to us with her escort too. After a few pleasantries, she asked, “Lord Solon, you have some experience with fighting the Raiders. What do you think of our force’s arrangement?”

Captain Minetos looked uncomfortable at the question. We didn’t know each other too well, and I was sure he didn’t want me to say anything that would dishearten his men.

“Before I answer, tell me how a province hires its warriors,” I asked.

“The provincial men are called to serve a regiment for two years. They are paid a standard wage by the local regent,” Minetos interjected. “After that term they are free to do as they please. Of course, they keep their weapons and gear, since they are considered part of the local militia. In the past, I’ve never heard of a coastal city calling upon their militia men, except to help with storm damage, but it is common for a small village to need them.”

“Conscripted men?” Julie asked.

“Semi-professional. They are better than the once-a-month militia formations that the inner-provinces use,” Captain Minetos countered.

“The men serve their communities and families with honor. Our warriors are treated with respect and their service is a tradition among our people,” Princess Wyrd explained, and then pointed to her archers. “Some of the lads go on to join my father’s service. For example, these archers are former hunters from Heraldsburg.”

I understood the Amarian approach of using semi-professional warriors to protect their province’s countryside. To preserve his internal power the King had settled on accepting the occasional possibility of carnage from outside forces. He had deep resources that once mobilized, could deal with large-scale threats. The King’s theory was to centralize control of his best troops, limiting the likelihood of a successful internal rebellion. However, it appeared the royal warriors were mostly stationed in the northern part of the Kingdom, which had the most riches. To me it was a dishonorable moral decision, it kept the southern part of the continent short of protection.

In the south, the King positioned a small core of hardcore professionals in royal keeps and behind fortifications; and, he used lesser trained warriors with inferior equipment to police the bulk of the land. It was cost effective and it split the command of the forces in each region, protecting the King’s political power. However, while it might hobble any attempts by Princes and Princesses to usurp the King’s reign, it wasn’t practical for repelling large-scale incursions by the Caldavian Raiders. The King’s approach was fine when dealing with a few ships that raided coastal villages. The local manpower could hold its own against small time attacks; yet, the provincial regiments were ill-equipped to fight multiple war-bands that coalesced during a large incursion.

The Raiders were fierce fighters. They were individually tough, raised under a harsh life that relished fighting man-to-man to settle disagreements. Some of my loved ones had lived under their harsh care as slaves and I wept when reflecting on the suffering, poverty and despair those women had suffered. Tact and charity were not a part of the Caldavian vocabulary. They were true barbarians and savages, measuring cruelty and feats of valor equally as the foundations of manhood. The engine of their ambition was a combination of factors: their elevation in rank from their deeds, the adrenaline rush of combat, and the satisfaction of acquiring wealth and women.

“With the right leadership your men will fight hard for their homes,” Zetia commented, which pulled my drifting thoughts back to the conversation.

Captain Minetos smiled back at my lover, accepting the unspoken compliment.

I’d heard enough. “At this time, I can say I would have placed the 3^rd regiment against the coast and deployed the mercenaries next to Captain Minetos.”

“Why?” she asked, thoughtfully. Her bodyguards leaned forward in their saddles, taking an interest in my answer, but Captain Minetos kept a neutral face.

“It would boost the morale of the 3^rd to have the water on their flank as protection. The mercenaries are more experienced and they shouldn’t need that emotional lift; and I’d rather see your most experienced men either in reserve or on this open flank,” I explained. “Of course, each of your regiments is holding a company in reserve behind its lines. So, we will have to see how things turn out.”

“Thank you for the honest, if not reserved answer,” Princess Wyrd said.

“Ya, you’re going to need those reserves when the Raiders smash into your light infantry,” I thought.

“And where would you put the Royal Archers,” she persisted.

“Right here with Captain Minetos. His left flank is swinging open with no support. He is the end of the line and your battle line isn’t that long,” I commented. “His men don’t have any missile troops, so it would strengthen his position and firm up his men’s resolve.”

“So be it,” she said. “We will stay here.”

Captain Minetos protested. “You really should watch from the rear. Near your carriage?”

She laughed at her half-brother. “Always the protector, so unlike...” The Princess held the rest of her remark, but we all knew she was referring to the Black Prince.

“I think we will stay here too,” Julie commented, reading my mind. “Things smell worse the closer you get to the road.”

Zetia laughed and Scout snickered behind us at the disparaging remark about the Black Prince and his nobles. The rest of us acted like we didn’t know what Julie was talking about.

“I know I can’t talk you out of staying,” Captain Minetos added. “Please, stay close to your men-at-arms and Lord Solon’s men.”

“Of course, I promise to stay out of the way,” Princess Wyrd offered, but he didn’t seem to believe her.

Across the way, I saw various Raiders, probably their version of sergeants, pushing men into place in their lines or otherwise instructing them on what they wanted to happen. The Amarians had tight and organized lines, whereas the enemy formations looked pretty sloppy. A few of the enemy ran out and bent over, showing their asses. We could hear their men laughing at the offending men. After that there were weapons waving and shouts from the Raiders. They were armed with a collection of weapons, two-hand axes, swords, spears, crossbows.

“They are getting themselves worked up to attack,” I commented to no one in particular. “Look some of their banners are bouncing up and down now.”

“It must be some sort of signal,” Zetia commented.

“It’s only happening on the other side of the road,” Julie added. “In front of the Black Prince’s position. And look, Count Vee and his escort are falling back to the carriages. No surprise there...”

We all heard a galloping horse racing from somewhere behind us, so we shifted our attention to the newcomer. It was a young noble with his kite shield strapped to his back. He roughly hauled his mount to a stop by Captain Minetos. Briefly, the Black Prince’s aide surveyed our men. His self-important attitude radiated from his face, while he steadied his white stallion. It surprised me to see his expression tighten with a hint of anger or impatience when he finally looked at Princess Wyrd. The wind caught the noble’s peacock feather on his helmet and pushed it back.

“Princess, I ask you to quit the field and withdraw to the carriages. This is no place for a woman,” the aide said rather sternly in a formal tone. “Thus, says my master.”

Princess Wyrd scoffed at him, not even responding to the command. Annoyed, Captain Minetos maneuvered his horse close to the aide, eating up the aide’s personal space. The young noble backed his mount a step. Whatever retort the noble wanted to make seemed to die on his lips when one of the men-at-arms drew his sword and casually rested it on the front of his saddle. The aide understood the message, so he turned his horse to me. I looked up at him with little patience. Just because I was standing on the ground and he was on a horse didn’t add any power to his position.

“You sir, are to move your men to the road and support the mercenary company,” the aide declared.

I couldn’t help but laugh in his face. His command caught me by surprise, so much so a tear rolled out of one of my eyes. I wiped away the errant trickle of water.

“That is a no,” Julie explained to the increasingly flustered aide. The noble’s horse did a little dance as the young man lost his formality.

“When I give you a command in the Black Prince’s name, I expect it to be followed,” the noble shouted. “He commands this army.”

“Sorry, we’re not an official part of your army,” I insisted.

“We’re just visiting merchants,” Julie taunted. She looked every bit a warrior as I did.

The Black Prince’s aide threw up his hands in frustration, and then turned his horse away from us. He violently kicked his heels into the animal, which spurred the horse away. Once out of sword reach, the aide spat on the earth and raced back to his master.