Robert Adams - Trumpets of War

In his retinue, Thoheeks Sitheeros had brought along skilled master weaponsmiths, along with their specialized tools and a goodly amount of semi-worked metal, and these were quickly put to work to properly outfit the army, allowing the long-overworked local smiths to get some sleep and then return to more mundane tasks for the nonmilitary populace of the duchy.

A year after the capitulation of what was by then left of Zastros’ host in Karaleenos saw a council of twenty thoheeksee ruling a bit over two thirds of the onetime Kingdom of the southern Ehleenoee, all but the very largest of the bandit and outlaw bands extirpated within the lands under Council’s sway, roads being re-laid, towns and villages here and there being rebuilt by their new occupants, crops ripening in reclaimed fields, the ferocious packs of wild dogs mostly eradicated and the cattle rounded up and fattening in reclaimed pasture-lands.

There had been much work for the army, often bloody work—fights, real battles, interdictions and sieges, forcible evictions of squatters and unconfirmed claimants to disputed holdings. But as the army of the Council was now the largest and best equipped still extant in all the land, they had as yet to see a defeat. The most distressing lack was that of a real, first-rate strahteegos or overall commander for this army.

Aside from that troubling matter, however, it was beginning to appear that the efforts of Grahvos and the rest would see their desperate gamble actually succeed.

Captain of Elephants Gil Djohnz did not care much or think much of the title that Tomos and the rest had hung upon him, but with no arguments affecting them, he had had to just learn to live with it. He routinely and deliberately ignored officers’ calls, and when a runner was sent to summon him, he would brusquely snap that taking proper care of elephants was a full-time job and that, in consequence, he lacked the time or the inclination to sit around a table, guzzle wine or brandy, gossip and listen to some blowhard announce the latest set of asinine pronouncements dreamed up in the feather-stuffed heads of soft-headed captains of desks, up in the citadel of Mehseepolis.

Of a day, he was summoned to Sub-strahteegos Tomos Gonsalos’ new office inthe but recently completed headquarters building. Once he was there, in working clothes devoid of any indication of rank and powerfully redolent of the elephant lines, Tomos greeted him warmly, seated him and, with his own hands, poured him a large mug of fresh, frothy milk—still warm from the cow and yellowish with rich butterfat—then went back to his own chair and goblet of spiced, watered wine.

Gil tasted then drained off the mug gratefully, wiped off his lips with a soiled, sweaty sleeve, refilled the mug from the pitcher, cut himself a hefty chunk of cheese from the small wheel on the officer’s desk, then settled back into the chair, smiling.

“Tomos, you should’ve been Kindred. You don’t look like a damned Ehleenee and most times you don’t think like one, either. No real Ehleenee would’ve ever thought of calling me over here for fresh milk and sharp cheese, not ever, for no reason.”

He chuckled. “Not that I don’t know damned good and well you’ve got you a damned good reason for doing it; it’s that sly, devious Ehleenee part of you coming to the surface.

“So, my sharp-eared friend, what’s the reason?”

Tomos squirmed in his chair, then said, “All of you Horseclansmen exercise a disconcerting bluntness that is often difficult for us more effete, civilized Ehleenoee to bear. We’ll get to my reasons in a bit, but first, how is our fourth elephant coming along?”

Gil smiled. “Growing like a weed; he’s already near to my waist at his withers. And he keeps young Bert Vawn hopping trying to keep up with him, too.”

“Has he decided on a name he likes yet? We need one for army records,” said Tomos.

The captain just shook his head. “The little scut changes his mind every other day, it seems. Over on the lines, we just call him Tulip’s Son . . . when we aren’t calling him Bert’s Brat or some less complimentary things. He needs to learn discipline, that one.”

Tomos looked down into his goblet for a moment then, swirling the purplish liquid about. When he looked up, he said, “Gil, my friend, armies need and must have discipline, too, in order to function, to even exist. Soldiers are not required to like the orders and routines of army life, but they are required to live their lives by those very routines and to never fail in following those orders; to not follow orders, to break routines, these are crimes in any army, crimes known under the general heading of insubordination, and they are and must be dealt with most harshly, lest discipline break down completely and an ordered army become only a mob. Rulers establish armies so as to have a force upon which they can depend to maintain peace and order within their realms, and a trained, tightly disciplined army can always be depended upon by those who raised it and maintain it. A mob, on the other hand, cannot be depended upon to do anything or to be anything other than an ever-constant danger.

“Now, in order for a stringent discipline to work properly and smoothly, it is important that the lower-ranking members of an army be constantly made aware that all those of higher rankings are also bound by the strictures of army discipline and routines and orders. Any soldier, of whatever rank, who makes it clear by his attitudes or actions that he considers himself to be above playing the old army game by the ancient rules immediately becomes a weak, rusting link in the chain that binds the army together; moreover, that rust is very contagious to other links, so it cannot and will not be allowed to remain and spread, it must be eradicated, no matter what the cost.”

Pausing for a moment, the overall commander of the Confederation force lifted his goblet and took a draught of the spiced wine before looking Gil dead in the eye and saying, “You, friend Gil, are such a weak link in my army, and thereinlies a problem that seems almost insoluble. Were I to send you away, back to Kehnooryos Ehlahs, as I have been advised to do by members of my staff, then I most probably would be well advised to send the elephant Sunshine with you, for I seriously doubt that she would be good for anything here without you.

“On the other hand, however, Gil, I—and we, the army, the staff, the command structure and the Council of Thoheeksee—cannot any longer afford to abide your flagrant insubordination, for although loss of you and thereby Sunshine would weaken our army, loss of discipline would weaken it far worse.”

Now become aware of what Tomos was getting at, of why he had sent for the captain of elephants this day, Gil was on the verge of making a reply, but the commander held up a hand, palm outward. “No, I know exactly what you mean to say, Gil. You did not and do not want to be made an officer. Why, Gil, I never could’ve imagined that a man of the pure water that I know you to be could be guilty of such a form of stubborn and arrogant selfishness.”

Gil spluttered, his face darkening with anger, his hand unconsciously seeking the hilt of the dirk he was not just then wearing.

Tomos ignored the appearance and movements of his subordinate and spoke on. “Gil, I hold a county near as large as a duchy, two cities, seven towns and a fine hall. I’ve not seen my lands or my family save for all too brief snatches in six years, yet when my overlord’s new overlord—High Lord Milo Morai—placed the weight of this command upon me and ordered me to march it down here for who knows how long, I did so with as good grace as I could muster and with a smiling face, for it would’ve been most insubordinate to have behaved otherwise to one of my superiors in both civil and military rank, don’t you see.