Chapter 5: Siege

They brought Claire's father into their quarters, putting him on his bed. Then the doctor spent a few minutes with Claire explaining what was needful, and told her to be particularly on watch for any fever, and to call him at once if there was one. In any case, he would return before dinner to show her how to dress the wound. Her father grumped at the attention, but after a bit fell asleep.

Claire read sitting next to his bed, periodically feeling his forehead. He stayed cool and clammy; he was in shock, the doctor told her. That wasn't a good thing, but better by far than a fever. In mid-afternoon Colonel Randall and Captain Taylor knocked and let themselves in. They saw that her father was still sleeping and made to leave at once. Captain Taylor added, though, "I've a private outside. He'll help out."

"I can manage," Claire said confidently.

"No doubt. However, perhaps the colonel would be more comfortable with a private helping with the bedpan for the next few days, rather than you."

It was on the tip of Claire's tongue to say that she herself produced the same sort of things as her father, but realized it wouldn't be ladylike to admit to it. And her father was very stuffy about such things, anyway. So she accepted with as much good grace as she could muster.

That evening, a dozen officers appeared, the most senior in Fort South, and Colonel Randall held a staff meeting in her father's bedroom. Claire fetched and served drinks for the various men, eavesdropping shamelessly.

"I am going to appoint you to command the Citadel, Colonel Story," Colonel Randall told her father, "until you can get around better. We've got some of the dependents there now; the rest will go in first thing tomorrow. We're already getting a few random bowshots inside the walls. We're working on suppressing that, but I don't think we'll be able to stop it completely -- at least until we know a little more about what we face."

Her father nodded, and one of the other officers asked about relief. Colonel Randall gestured at Captain Taylor. "Not good. Colonel Danna won't be expected back for three months. They probably won't worry for two more months beyond that. More likely, someone else will notice something going on out here. Except the reason raw troops were sent out was that King Hadrian has doubled his border garrisons, and is rumored to be planning on a fall campaign to reverse his losses from last year."

Colonel Randall surveyed the room. "Our problem is severe, very severe. The King of Man isn't likely to further reinforce Fort South with Hadrian on the prowl. South serves to protect the southern caravans; it's been more than a year since the last one has been seen. The Harn have stopped them.

"Most likely what will happen is that they will send messengers to tell us to evacuate. The Kingdom could ill afford to give up Fort South, but losing five thousand soldiers would hurt far, far worse.

"Except, we know those messengers aren't going to get through. Probably by mid-summer they will realize the situation we are in.

"And they won't be able to do a thing about it. This fall, when the rains start in the North, then they'll be able to free up some troops. Perhaps they will have a general call up; I imagine so. In which case, by late fall they should be able to send a strong enough force to relieve us. Perhaps by mid-November."

The room was silent and Colonel Randall spoke clearly. "If everything goes very well, perhaps help will arrive in mid-October. If things go wrong ... perhaps not until after the winter solstice."

The colonel gestured at her father. "Colonel Story will command the Citadel for the time being. All dependents will be there before tomorrow noon and will stay there until further notice. There's not enough room for all of the supplies and all of the people. Captain Taylor tells me that quite a few of the new men were miners from the Lake District. Starting tomorrow, they will work to dig a basement to the Citadel; we'll pile the dirt up as an additional wall, about twenty yards from the Citadel.

"Captain Hammer will command the walls. You're a brevet Major, Captain Hammer.

"Captain Taylor will command a strike force, our interior reserve. His command will consist of his two companies of Corean archers, plus two of the regular mounted companies and two companies of the new draft."

One of the new lieutenants spoke up. "Why are you giving such a command to a sergeant? What about chain of command and date of rank?"

Claire thought Colonel Randall was going to explode; certainly for a minute he looked dangerous.

"Lieutenant, when I give an order, you will obey. If you have questions about how to carry out that order, you are requested and required to ask. Why, however, is not now, nor will it ever be a reason to ask a question."

"Colonel, I don't understand..." the lieutenant continued.

Colonel Randall made a chopping motion with his hand. "Lieutenant, did you enjoy your breakfast this morning? Men were dying so you could eat it in peace, Lieutenant! Never again, Lieutenant! So long as you remain at this post, or until I order otherwise, sir, you may not eat from the time of the evening meal until lunch the next day!

"Reflect, Lieutenant, each time you miss a meal, how much more useful employment you would have found this morning, standing on the walls, watching the battle, rather than enjoying breakfast. And now, sir, if you open your mouth again, I will order you out, alone, to the site of this morning's action to count the Harn dead."

There was silence in the room, no one looked at the lieutenant, who'd turned pasty white.

The colonel turned to the rest of them, and continued as if he'd never been interrupted.

"Most men will be patrolling the walls. At least for the time being that is all we're going to be able to do. Rations, after today, will be reduced to 60%, except for the youngest children. That will give us enough to reach the end of the year. Hopefully, before then, we'll know more about the situation and can make judgments."

"What about Colonel Danna?" another of the younger officers asked.

"Would you like to serve under him?" the colonel snapped back instantly.

"No, don't answer; that wasn't a proper question. But, it's one you should ask yourself. Just don't do it aloud.

"We lost nearly seventy-five men today, another hundred or so were wounded. If Captain Taylor's Coreans hadn't been in position, we'd have lost everyone out there."

"We nearly lost everyone, period," her father reported. "It was touch and go. If I hadn't seen movement a half minute before their signal, I don't think even the Coreans could have saved us."

He looked around the men in the room. "They'd dug small pits in the desert, covered themselves with cloth, and covered them with sand. It must have been done last night. They had to know we were coming today. That's an uncomfortable thought: someone in Fort South must have told them that we were coming."

The colonel looked long and hard at her father. "There is something in what you say." He reflected another moment, then his eyes lit on the young Corean. "Captain, you will investigate this. Report to me only, in private."

"Sir!" The Corean didn't look happy.

"Miss Story!" Claire eyes snapped back to the colonel. Never in her worst nightmares had she thought she would be addressed in this meeting. Curious, she had hung back, staying silent, listening, but never expecting to be included.

"Normally the leadership of the dependents falls upon the commanding officer's wife. I have none. Failing that the duty would normally go to the next most senior colonel's wife. You are not that, either. There are a whole gaggle of wives of other field grade officers. Not meaning to disparage anyone in particular, some of these women are better than others. Others are worse. Some of the officers here would agree to my characterization, even if they dare not make the slightest sign that they agree." There were a number of officers who looked uncomfortable.

"Miss Story, you are a competent, level-headed young woman. I would like you to attempt, as diplomatically as you can, using your father's authority only as a last resort, to see if you can handle the relations between the command staff and the dependents. It would be folly for you to attempt to order the matrons of Fort South, but perhaps suggestions, politely framed, will suffice. It would relieve your father and me from a burden that could prove distracting."