Robert Adams - Swords of the Horseclans

During the months Milo’s heterogeneous army awaited Zastros, Thoheeks Greemos and Duke Djefree of Kuhmbuhluhn had become fast friends. Now, the new Confederation Strahteegos traced the twisting course of the river that bisected the eastern half of the duchy.

“I could wish, Djef, that the army could headquarter at Mahrtuhnzburk and force the enemy to come to us, rather than trying to hold the damned border north of here. You’re sure the invasion will come through that area we rode over, are you?”

Duke Djefree was as broad and as muscular as the Thoheeks, though nearly two hands shorter and twenty years older. Like most men who often wore both helm and beaver, his cheeks and chin were clean-shaven and his snow-white hair had been clipped within an inch of his scalp. Taking his pipe from between his strong, yellow teeth, he used its mouthpiece as a pointer.

“Oh, yes, Big Brother, if the allies follow the strategy that my spies at all three courts assure me will be followed, this is the only feasible route. They know that they must have all three of their armies combined to defeat mine and the troops they’re sure my overlord will loan me.”

Greemos’ saturnine face mirrored puzzlement “But how do they know your army will be there to meet them?”

The Duke shrugged his wide shoulders. “Because they know I know they’re coming in there; they have as many spies in my court as do I in theirs. That’s why we are met here alone tonight with My Lord Milo’s men for guards, rather than mine own.”

“But, good God, man!” Greemos expostulated explosively. “Think on it! They coulo! be deliberately misleading your agents in the hope that you will mass your forces there. Then they could cross the border directly north of either of your principal cities.”

Duke Djefree just shook his scarred head calmly. “Oh, no, Brother, they can only attack the old capital from the east. In order to get north of it, they would have to go through Tuhseemark, and Marquis Hwahruhn would never permit their passage, of course.”

“He’s a friend of yours, then, Djef?” probed Greemos. “Does he have enough troops to menace the enemy’s Bank?”

The Duke rocked back on his heels, laughing. “A friend? Hardly! He’d be overjoyed to hear of my demise, especially were it a slow and painful one.” Another laugh bubbled up, and he went on. “As for troops, the last I heard, he boasts all of five hundred pikemen, including his city and frontier guards; he retains a force of all of twenty dragoons, and his family and noble retainers probably number five-and-twenty more. Even were I willing to hire Jhim and his fifth-rate warband, I doubt me they could turn the flank of a muletrain.”

“Hell and damnation!” thundered Greemos. “Then what’s to prevent Duke Djai from walking right over them and attacking Kuhmbuhluhnburk from the north? A tenth of those three warbands could stamp less than six hundred men into the dust, by God!”

“Because he wouldn’t dare attack Tuhseemark, not unless the Marquis led troops out and attacked him first.” Duke Djefree smiled blandly. “Don’t you see, Greemos?”

“No, I do not!” snapped the Thoheeks. “God’s balls, Djef, you make less sense than my wife! Were I marching twenty thousand men against you, I’d come any damned way I pleased. I’d send five thousand men and my siege train through Tuhseemark, whether the Marquis liked it or not, and invest Kuhmbuhluhnburk. Then your army would have a grim choice: either meet my main army and take a chance of losing Kuhmbuhluhnburk, and then being taken in the rear by my detached force; or detach part of your smaller army to succor the city, thereby ensuring the defeat of your main force; or withdrawing your entire army toward Kuhmbuhluhnburk, with my army either snapping at your heels or marching on Haiguhsburk.”

“Your strategy is good, Big Brother, and I am certain that you would defeat an enemy you so opposed.” Duke Djefree spoke slowly, as if to a backward child. “But we may be assured that Duke Djai will not follow such a course. He cannot without the Marquis’ leave, and the Marquis will never grant it.”

A vein was quivering in Greemos’ forehead and his big fists were clenched. But when he would have spoken, Milo laid a hand on his arm.

“Greemos, you Ehleenoee just don’t understand these northerners. I’ll try to explain and Djef can correct me or bring up any fine points I miss.

“Greemos, within the last seven years you’ve proved yourself a genius of military strategy and tactics; but, your inborn abilities notwithstanding, you strongly dislike war and your aim is to get it over with as quickly as possible.”

“Well, doesn’t everyone want peace?” asked the new strahteegos.

Milo shook his heath “No, Greemos, not the Middle Kingdoms’ nobility. War and fighting have replaced both sport and religion in their lives.”

“In fact, Big Brother,” interjected the Duke, “war has become religion. The Cult of the Sword has displaced all of the older beliefs, save only worship of The Blue Lady, but she’s only worshipped by women, anyway.”

“Just so,” agreed Milo. “And, like any religion, it has innumerable rules and customs and usages, many of which appear idiotic to the uninitiated. But, Greemos, if you stand back and look deeper than the facade of mere custom, you’ll see that there are very good reasons for these rules and usages.”

“Your pardon, my lord,” said Greemos, “but what am I to look into?”

“Bear with me, Lord Strahteegos, bear with me,” Milo smilingly enjoined him. “Toward the end of their existence, the original three Middle Kingdoms were ruled by tyrannic despots, hated and feared by people and nobility alike. When the Great Earthquake and the chaos it and the floods engendered gave the lords and cities an opportunity for independence, they grasped it, lost it back briefly, then secured it for good and all. They …”

Milo paused, then turned to the Duke. “Djef, you’re an initiate of the Cult. Perhaps you can explain it somewhat better than can I. What I know is but hearsay.”

The Duke nodded brusquely. “As you wish, my lord. Look you, Greemos, what it boils down to is this: a smaller state may attack a larger, but a larger state may not attack a smaller except in retaliation for overt attack. D’you ken? A smaller state may enter into compact with one or more others of comparable size to attack a larger, which is just what is being done to me, but if they lose, then all of them are open to attack by the state they attacked. But should a larger state attack a smaller, unprovoked—and such hasn’t happened in Sword knows when—things will get rather sticky for him in rather short order. It may start even before he attacks, for when his intent is obvious all Sword Initiates are bound by Sword oath to desert him, which means most if not all of his Freefighters. If this fails to deter him, if his force contains enough non-initiates and oath-breakers for him to actually launch an attack against the smaller state, then he is certainly dead and his dynasty as well, probably. All surrounding states, large and small, will march against him and his lands and titles will be forfeited to the ruler he attacked. If he fails to die in battle, then he will be hauled before a tribunal of the Cult, who will decide the manner of his execution. Likewise, all other oath-breakers in his service. Non-initiates are not subject to Cult discipline.

“So, you see, Big Brother, Kuhmbuhluhnburk is quite safe, unless our army should be defeated, for Duke Djai is an Initiate and no fool.”

Duke Djai and his allies, Counts Hwahltuh of Getzburk and Mortuhn of Yorkburk, unsuspectingly marched their twenty-two thousand men directly into the jaws of Strahteegos Greemos’ carefully prepared a trap. The security measures had been stringent—a thing almost unheard of in Middle Kingdoms’ wars—the inevitable spies and double agents having been spoon-fed information to the effect that the Confederation had sent Kuhmbuhluhn about five thousand troops, mostly Ehleen infantry, a tenth of the Confederation’s standing army. Since this was the percentage usually loaned to a vassal state by an overlord, Duke Djai swallowed the tale.