Robert Adams - Champion of the Last Battle

“Whitetip, the prairiecat, left New Kuhmbuhluhnburk well before our own departure and has been scouting out our line-of-march, with orders to mindspeak me from afar only in the event of his discovery of an ambush site, ready-manned and awaiting our column.

“When it became clear that King Mahrtuhn intended to halt and camp here for the night, I farspoke Whitetip and sent him on across the stream to try to find trace of the Skohshuns and possibly determine their distance from us. That he did, and more. He brought the report to Rahksahnah whilst I was still at the royal pavilion, this night.

“By Whitetip’s witness, these Skohshuns are about as demented or, at the least, as strategically unschooled as the royal personage we now serve. They have gone into camp a good hour or more of marching time from yonder ford, and although they too have thrown out a few pickets, they are clearly not preparing emplacements for engines with which to harass those making use of the ford, have not even occupied the crest of the ridge that lies between the ford and their camp and, indeed, have a campsite every bit as ill defended as is this one.”

Vahk Soormehlyuhn, the bald, gray-bearded elder of the two Ahrmehnee, asked, “How many of them are there, Dook Bili?”

The broad, thick shoulders of the young thoheeks rose then fell in a shrug. “Intelligent as are the prairiecats, Lieutenant Vahk, numbers larger than a bare score or so have ever been beyond their calculation abilities. But he did say that their camp covered two hillocks on either side of a vale through which the road runs and in which he thinks they mean to take their stand on the morrow and so force a battle. Lacking cavalry as they do, that would be the sensible thing—to run their flanks up the slopes on either side. That’s what I’d do in their circumstances, anyway. Either that or form my pikes up into a porcupine ... but of course the ever-present danger to the porcupine formation is that it is damned hard to maintain that formation should it be necessary to move forward, backward or sideways for any reason, most especially over the type of terrain we’ll be fighting on.

“There is one thing that might be to our advantage or just as easily to our bloody disadvantage, considering that battles seldom go as you plan them. Whitetip noted that a stream, a smaller tributary of this one beside which we are camped, flows southward smack down the middle of that vale, with the road paralleling it.

“Now, if it flows sufficiently shallow, if the bottom be firm and even and if these Skohshuns are proved not astute enough to have blocked the way with felled trees or boulders or suchlike, it just might be the key to more easily breaching their hedge. Those poor pikemen would have more than enough to do merely keeping their balance on cold-numbed feet and slippery rocks, while handling twoscore or more pounds of hardwood and steel against the big targets presented by horsemen, but if they are suddenly assaulted by fleet, nimble, hard-to-close-with opponents engaging in a new and unorthodox maneuver ... ?

“Of course, my folk, this is but idle and probably hopeless speculation, for no seasoned commander who is not either addled or senile is going to put good men in so exposed—obviously exposed—a position without giving them the cover of an abattis. Therefore, I think we had best anticipate attacking on the levelest stretch of ground we can espy, which will likely mean up the road to their lines. And because the road clearly offers an ideal avenue for a cavalry charge, no doubt the hedge will be thickest thereabouts, too.

“So look you for a brisk engagement, a hard fight and a good possibility of heavy losses despite our training, our heavier armor and the body shields.”

Captain Fil Tyluh spoke as Bili paused to take a draft from a jack of ale.

“I have no doubt that we can break the hedge, Duke Bili, for a brief time, anyway—it’s all been done many times ere this, up north, in the Middle Kingdoms. But there are just too few of us, even before battle casualties, to improve upon the breach or even to hold our initial gains. Can we be sure, certain sure, that this King Mahrtuhn will charge with his three battles- to consolidate that for which we will have fought so hard?”

Bili shook his shaven head brusquely. “In one word, Fil, no; no, we cannot. As ever—at least since we have known him—King Mahrtuhn will ride when and where his honor drives him ... and his heir will be beside him.

“However, I have the sworn word of Prince Byruhn that he will definitely bring his own battle to support us whenever we have clearly weakened or breached the pike hedge.”

Tyluh slammed fist to callused palm. “But, Duke Bili, that’s not enough! His grace, Prince Byruhn, commands the smallest, most ill-armed and -mounted battle of the three, dammit. Even adding our numbers—or what numbers we might by then have still on their feet—to his, there still will be insufficient strength to roll up the exposed flanks fast enough so they can’t reclose, likely trapping us all behind their line in the process, to be slain at their leisure.”

Bili clenched his two big hands together, snapping the knuckles with loud cracks which punctuated his words. “Yes, Fil, I know; I, too, have thought it through, and all that you say is only too true. That’s precisely why I’ve come to at least one decision.

“That decision is this, and all of you hear me well: We will do what we have said we would do. That is, we will perform our function or all die in the attempt. But when once that section of the hedge is broken and in temporary confusion, our horse holders are to bring all of the mounts as near as possible and we will withdraw, remount and retire; that’s if none of the battles come to reinforce us.

“However, in the event that Prince Byruhn brings his battle alone, we still will withdraw, but we will allow his attack to screen our withdrawal. The only circumstance in which we will not withdraw will be if all three battles come to consolidate the victory, in which case we will remount, but then return to the fight a-horse.

“Do all of you fully comprehend all that I’ve just said? If so, I’ll now take on questions or objections.”

Atop the crest of the ridge nearest to the larger stream, in the driest spot he had found—beneath a rock overhang and but bare yards from a Skohshun watchpost—the prairiecat Whitetip observed the enemy camp occupying the tops of the two hills on the other side of the vale. His keen hearing, however, did the yeoman share of his “observation,” for his was not the long-distance vision of a hound, though he could see better in dim light than hound or horse or man.

He could, for instance, see the forms of the large body of men working in and about the small, swift stream at a point just past the narrowest part of the smaller vale that separated the hills and entered the larger vale at a right angle. He could not see well enough, however, to be certain just what the men were doing. His ears told him of vast splashings in the water, groans and gasps of effort, cursing and occasional shouts in tones of command.

The camps themselves seemed quiet, with most of the host sunk in sleep, after having fed heavily on roasted meat and grain porridge. Now and then, here and there, a horse stamped or whickered, oxen lowed or small rocks shifted under the feet of pacing sentries. With a single exception, all that was visible of the hilltop camps through the dark and the misty rain was the dim and flaring glows of the torches that marked out the camp perimeters.

The exception was at the center of the westernmost camp to Whitetip’s left. There, the environs of several large tents blazed inside and out with the light of torches and lamps and battle lanterns. The figures of men, tiny with the distance, scuttled hither and yon like beetles over a fresh cowpat. Whitetip could dimly discern the rattling and clinkings of their weapons and armor and spurs, the creaking of their leather goods as they moved; but the distance was just too great to strain out speech from all the other noises.