Part 2 (1/2)
Troop Guide Bikaner told me this most likely meant the men were araiding. ”That'll be th' happiest explanation, though,” he said.
As we went deeper into the pa.s.s, crawling along, I saw, on the highest crag above me, a bit of movement that might have been someone watching. Then came a mirror-flash, as some- [ one signaled our presence to others, deeper in the pa.s.s. i A mile or so farther on, we came on another human presence. Bodies, half-rotten, were scattered in a draw that led up from the trail. They were black, dead more than a few days, and decaying.
One of my men dismounted, and ran to the corpses. As he did, kites fluttered up, skrawking at their meal being disturbed. He reported they were hillmen, and all were naked, stripped I bare. He'd seen an arrow shaft protruding from one's ribs, andknew by the markings it came from a hillman's bow.
”I reckoned,” Troop Guide Bikaner said, ”back there if th' village men were out just raidin', that was the best that could be. This”-and his hands swept across the tiny battleground- ”means worse. Feudin' at least. Just as likely buildin' themselves up for war.”
”Against whom?” I asked.
”Anybody,”Bikanersaid. ”Mebbe th' folks in Sayana that .
they despise for bein' weaklings who give up on th' hills. Mayhap south, into Maisir.
”But most likely north. Into Urey. Been a few years since they struck at us, an' th' thought of how rich it's got since they raided's got to be makin' 'em lick their lips, thinkin' of th' sweets t' be had.”
He was most likely right-I'd heard in the Lancers' mess it had been almost five years since there'd been a good plague or a better war, which was when promotions fell like leaves in a windstorm. It would make a grand preamble for such a war if the Men of the Hills could parade a high-ranking Numantian head on a lance.
Captain Mellet's sergeants were shouting, and I saw pickets running down from the latest hill they'd outposted, and other warrants were calling for their squad to be ready to mount the next ridge and we were ready for our next round of leap-the-frog.
It was completely intolerable. The day was growing late; the sun was already in the center of the heavens.
Very well,I thought. Iwas put in command of this force. Therefore I shall command it. It was increasingly obvious that I was, if not intended, then surely expected, to fail. I would always rather fail doingsomething than waiting or doing nothing.
I rode to the wagon Captain Mellet was in.
”Captain, I wish you to take charge of this train, including the cavalry's wagons and spare mounts.”
The man took a minute to think, then nodded acceptance.
”Very well, Legate a Cimabue. But you?”
”The cavalry will ride on, without stopping, until we find the resident-general.”
”But Legate...” and he looked about, saw he could be overheard, and jumped from his seat and hurried to my horse. ”Legate, that's against standing orders. No unit moves without its support, except in battle or on patrol.”
”Afy orders, sir,” and I put finality into my tones, ”were to escort the resident-general throughSulem Pa.s.sto his new post in Sayana. Those are the orders-theonly orders I propose to follow.”
I didn't wait for his response, but shouted forBikaner.Fill canteens from the water barrels on the wagons, each trooper draw one pound of dry rations-beef jerked with mountain berries-and we would ride. Ten minutes later we clattered off, at the trot, down the trail.
I sent two riders ahead, with orders to stay within eyesight of the troop, to wait short of any possible ambuscade until we drew almost to it, and then to ride through at the gallop. I changed these scouts every half hour.
This was a deadly risk, but I thought it had a chance of succeeding. First, because we were moving faster than the hillmen could, even though they had the fleetness of mountain antelope afoot, and also becauseno one traveled through the Border States in this manner.
I wished we had infantry in support, since sending cavalry through broken terrain without keen eyes afoot to spot a spearman lying in wait is waiting to be destroyed. I had even dreamed of a way to move them faster either to have them ride behind us, and dismount when we made contact; or even hanging onto our stirrups, which I'd done as a lad when there were five of us and only one horse. Hard on horses, hard on men- but I thought it could work. This later became one of the emperor's most prized tactics to surprise the enemy. But I had not time to explain it to Captain Mellet nor to train his troops in the method.
We moved until it was too dark to see, then made a cold camp, lighting no fires, and keeping half the men on watch.
I slept not at all, and when I could distinguish my hand in front of my face ordered the men up and on.
Two hours after sunrise, we heard the screams of dying horses, the shouts of men fighting for their lives.
I found later that Laish Tenedos had kept his party moving from first to last light, hurrying to get through Sulem Pa.s.sto offer the least temptation to the Men of the Hills, not believing*in the storied safe-conduct pa.s.s. This day, they'd set out at dawn, and had reached the plateau where theSulem Riverthat came from Sayana curved and left the pa.s.s.
They'd seen no enemies, been hara.s.sed by no hidden bowmen. They thought that a good sign, none of the party having any experience in these mountains, whereas a Lancer would have taken the greatest alarm, knowing some terrible and vast trap was being laid ahead.
I heard the noise, just as the two men on point galloped back and reported fighting-they thought it was the party we sought, because there were elephants down-at the ford.
I was about to shout for the attack, just as the books say foolish cavalrymen do whenever they hear the clang of swords, but caught myself, remembering there might well be flankers ready, and we could hurtle straight into another trap- this one prepared for rescuers.
I told Lance Major Wace to ready the troop for battle and, with Troop Guide Bikaner, rode forward a ways, then dismounted and went on foot until we could see the valley in front. We flattened and considered the scene.
From this moment until the end of the battle, I shall describe the action as clearly as I can, since this, the Meeting Between Damastes a Cimabue and the Young Seer Tenedos, at the Battle of Sulem Pa.s.s, is one of the best-known scenes in Numantia's recent history, familiar in paintings, songs, tales, and murals and presented in a manner either foolishly romantic, absurd, or so filled with Great Portent it should be a religious ceremony. Only our final stand, years later on the blood-soaked field of Cambiaso, is more widely portrayed.
Let us start with the facts of the battle. There were perhaps Men of the Hills on one side, and less than Numan-tians on the other. This was fairly large for a fight in theBorderStates, but hardly the horizon-to-horizon clash I'veseen it painted as.
I saw no anxious G.o.ds overhanging the battlefield, nor demons fighting on either side. Nor had there been any magical emissaries imploring me to hurry and save the emperor-to-be.
*Finally I saw no grand sorcerous figure standing in the ruins hurling thunderbolts as if he had become a manifestation of Saionji herself.
What I saw was a desolate, desertlike valley, the ground dotted with scrub brush and, every now and then, a scraggling j plot of worked ground that might have been called a farm. ThefSulem Rivercurled through this valley, and the road crossed it at a ford.
Here was where the ambush had been sprung. Two ele- ; phants lay dead just on the other side of the ford, and there; were Numantians crouched behind their corpses, using them for shelter. There were four carts, one on the far sh.o.r.e, one overturned in midstream, and two others on the bank closer to me. Two other elephants were kneeling beside those carts, their handlers trying to keep them calm.
There were bodies of horses, oxen, and men scattered j around the wreck of the caravan. But there were still Numantians alive, still fighting.
I I looked for the enemy, and finally saw some hillmen, well camouflaged in their sandy robes behind rocks on the far sh.o.r.e. Downstream, I saw another party of tribesmen wading the river, about to encircle Tenedos's men.
”Not bad, sir,” Troop Guide Bikaner said. ”Th' hillmen waited til th' seer's party was fordin', at th' time of most confusion, when ever'body's worried about the horses breakin' free, and waterin' th' oxen, an'
then they hit 'em hard. 'Course, if I were handlin' the ambush I would've hit 'em short of th' river, an' let those that survived th' first clash go mad smellin' but never tastin' water.” He looked on, and tsked. ”I'm afeared those aren't th' finest hillmen I've seen. I see no sign they've got anything in th' way of a reserve, either.”
”Very good, Troop Guide, and I'm sure you have a grand future as a dacoit,” I said briskly. ”One column detached, put Lance Major Wace in charge of that, to deal with those people crossing the river.
The rest of us will take the main body at the charge. Straight down the road at the trot, at the walk across the river, which doesn't look more than hock-high, then charge in arrow formation at the horn. Go through them... there,” I went on, pointing, ”sweep back and mop them up. Pay no mind to the resident-general's party-I don't want them to slow us.”
Troop Guide Bikaner made no response. I turned.
”You're sure those're are all th' orders you wish t' give, sir?” he asked, face blank.
I'll wager I reddened, but I didn't snap at him, so the madness of battle had not yet taken me. ”What am I missing?”
”Look close, sir. There's magic on th' field.”