Robert Adams - Madman's Army

As almost all of the once extensive olive orchards had been destroyed by the roving combatants during the long years of revolt and counterrevolt and minor skirmishings and settlements of personal vendettas by the nobility, the bread they bought—fresh and hot from village ovens—was perforce topped with slathers of new-churned butter or savory, oniony goose grease. Most vineyards had met the same sad fates as the olive groves, so they bought and drank barley beer, ciders of apple and pear, fermented juices of peach and apricot, honey meads or ales flavored with wild herbs.

The land was good and under the hands of caring man was once more producing the riches it had for all of the centuries that had preceded the awful two decades so recently past. Herds and flocks once more grazed upon the meadows and leas and uplands. Fields of green, immature grains rippled to soft breezes that also set rows of tall maize arustle.

Small boys came running to roadsides to watch the lines of riders all ajingle on their tall chargers, the pennons fluttering at the sparkling steel tips of the long, polished lances of ashwood, sunbeams flashing from plumed helmets, cuirasses and hilts of sabers and dirks. Their elders might still feel the urge to hurriedly gather up small valuables and then run to hide in the woods, but these children had not in their short lifetimes learned to equate soldiers and riders of Council’s army with death and destruction, with lootings, rapine and burnings. The passage of the small column of lancers was, to the young, simply a welcome break in their own, endless, wearisome war fought with sticks and stones against the vermin—insect, animal and avian—that haunted the fields of melons, squashes, aubergines and cabbages.

In one domain that did not yet have a full-time resident lord to hunt out the larger, more dangerous beasts, Sitheeros, Bralos, Lieutenant Pülos and a few carefully picked lancers exchanged their troop horses for hunters and spent the best part of two days in the destruction of a sounder of feral swine which had been despoiling the country around and about, then spent another two days at helping the farm-villagers butcher and cook and eat the rich, fresh pork, it being a very rare treat in summer for their hosts.

In another domain, Thoheeks Sitheeros earned great and universal admiration when he rode his blooded hunter in at the gallop and, with his long, heavy Pitzburk sword, hamstrung a ferocious wild bull, so that lancers could finish it off in far less danger to man or horse. Everyone gorged that night on fresh, spicy, spit-broiled beef, a bit tough and stringy, but still satisfying with black bread, brown ale, sweet maize and boiled cabbage.

When he had wiped the grease and sauce from his lips and beard, then swallowed a good half -leetrah of the fine country ale, Bralos remarked to his noble dining companion, “My lord, that was indeed a beautiful piece of work you did out there today, and I will for long remember it and tell of it. But, please, my lord, you must think of me if not yourself and not so risk your life. Has my lord any idea just how much trouble it would cause me if I had to deliver back his ashes to Council at Mehseepolis?”

Sitheeros chuckled. “Not half the trouble you’re going to be in with me, here and now, if you don’t cut out that disgustingly formal military manner of speaking and address me as I have advised you to address me, Bralos.

“As regards the bull, well, chances are that had it been any one of a hundred or so other bulls, I’d’ve just sat back with the rest of the party and tried to hold him where he was until someone had got back with that crossbow, or at least some dogs. But, hell, man, you know how hunting is. I just knew that I could do it with that particular beast, for all that it’s been a good twenty years or more since last I did anything similar on a hunt. I just knew that I could cripple him without serious injury to either me or my horse.

“Don’t you worry about me taking insane risks, Bralos, for I mean to make old bones. My days of active warring are over and done. I intend to die at the age of one hundred years or more, in a soft bed of overexertions with a young and willing doxie, not with a gutful of sharp steel or on the horns of some wild bull, thank you.”

On the next day’s march, Sitheeros remarked, “You know, Bralos, this ride has been a tonic for me in more than one way, but I also think that it has given me an idea for killing several birds with but a single stone. No army can be allowed to just sit in camp, drilling ceaselessly and doing make-work chores, without suffering for it; any man who has commanded knows that. But neither is the army or Council or our people to be properly served by marching that army hither and yon to no real purpose or with the announced purpose of picking fights along the borders, as old Pahvlos did and tried to do.

“Yes, light and medium cavalry can be put to good use chasing stray bands of outlaw bandit raiders, but what of infantry, eh? Due to their survival necessity to move fast, bandits are always mounted, and even our light foot would play merry hell trying to catch them were any featherbrained senior officer to order them to it. So, must it be the fate of all our foot to sit and vegetate between drilling and endlessly repolishing unused weapons? No, there is better work for them and for the good folk of our Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee , I think.

“As of the time that we two left Mehseepolis, all save one of the thoheekseeahnee had thoheeksee and all of the border marches had an opokomees , but as we have seen on this march, right many of these interior lands are totally lacking minor nobility— komeesee and vahrohnoee —and the common people are working the land without the help or the supervision of any resident lord, given what little aid or advice as they do receive by agents of the thoheeks when they ride through each year to collect taxes or to gather men for seasonal work on river levees and other civic projects of a local nature.

“Moreover, many of these lands are quite likely to stay devoid of petty lords until such a time as there is more hard money about for purchase of the titles and holdings of extinct houses, for no one can expect a thoheeks who is himself often living on gruel and wild herbs and spring water between harvests to just give valuable assets away to the first promising landless nobleman-born who chances down the road; our world just does not work that way nor will it ever.

“Therefore, we have the current problem: willing, striving folk who could produce far more from lands that even now are showing traces of their old fruitful-ness did they but have steady, intelligent guidance and set goals toward which to labor, did they but have access to extra hands during those, seasons when they most are needful, did they but have men armed and trained to arms to keep large, baneful wild beasts in check, until these lands each have again their own resident lord with his family and retainers to do all these needful things for them. And this is where our idle soldiery comes into the scenario, Bralos. This is the plan that I mean to put to the High Lord of the Confederation on our ride back with him.”

“And what, my lor … ahh, Sitheeros,” said Bralos uneasily, “if this great ruler has other plans for our and now his army?”

Thoheeks Sitheeros just smiled. “My boy, we will just have to see how best to cross that stream when we are up on its banks.”

“From all that I have been told and the little that I have seen,” said the High Lord, “you have done a stupendous job in so short an amount of time, Thoheeksee. ”

Despite the best efforts of Grahvos, Mahvros, Bahos, Vikos and several others, they had been able to assemble only twenty-two of the thirty-three in Mehseepolis by the time Sitheeros and the escort came riding in from the east with the notable visitor and the new squadron of Horseclansmen.