James White - The First Protector

By the time they arrived the sky had lightened enough to show clearly the ground features around them, the line of men lying prone under the rim of the hill ahead and the horses, hungry after their long night ride, cropping contentedly on the patches of sparse grass further down the slope. Declan tethered his mount beside them while the other man pointed ahead toward one of the figures lying huddled under his cloak.

"That is Bashir," said Mareth quietly. "We will approach him from behind, the last few paces on our bellies so as not to show ourselves above the skyline to the enemy."

"Lead the way," Declan murmured.

Keeping flat against the rising ground they drew level with Bashir, who nodded to Declan and said, "I know that you have keen eyes, but most of the area is still shadowed. Take an instant's look, show as little of your head as possible, and tell me what you can see and what you think it means."

Declan did so, but when he lowered his head to the sand again he closed his eyes before he spoke, the better to fix the picture of what he had seen in his mind while he was describing it.

"There are two groups spread out and hiding in the rocks above the camel road," he said, "in an uneven line stretching east to west They are already in ambush positions, so during the night they must have sent a scout westward along the track and know that the caravan is due soon and are ready for it. The first and smaller group, numbering no more than fifteen to twenty men, is just below us and very close while the larger one, which has about twice the strength of the first is farther and strung out in an uneven line to the westward. In a depression behind the larger group are their animals, about four camels and horses whose number is uncertain because there may be more concealed behind those I could see…"

"You have good eyes," said Mareth softly.

Bashir nodded and said quickly, "What else did you see, and think?"

Declan hesitated. "The light was uncertain but it is strengthening," he said. "May I take another look?"

The other nodded impatiently, and when Declan lowered his head again Bashir said, "Well?"

"This may not be important," Declan replied, "but their camels are piled high and hung about with stores while their horses carry double saddles. It also seems to me that all of the enemy I can see are wearing broad belts and diagonal sashes with headgear of the same color which looks black in this light but may be dark green or red."

Beside him the silent Mareth seemed to grow even more quiet while Bashir cursed softly and said, "This is worse than I expected. They wear the markings of our enemy sheik's personal guard, men who have been born without pity or had it scourged out of them. The reason they make no attempt to cover their military dress is, of course, that they will slay everyone in the caravan without exception who might link them to the bloody massacre they intend."

He paused, looked at Declan very seriously and said, "If you do not wish to share the fate of your master, which is certain, you should ride at once to the caravanserai with the news of what has happened here so that my sheik will learn of this crime, and then go wherever you desire… But your body wriggles in silent argument. Speak it in words, brave and probably stupid though the words may be."

"My master has another servant," said Declan awkwardly, "who is little more than a child. I would not want to abandon them."

"Do as you wish," said Bashir impatiently. "Now I must engage the enemy… But I sense another argument coming from you. What is it?"

"I am a stranger here," said Declan carefully, "and although I bear the prince's swords, I should not presume to give you advice. But I think there might be a small chance of us winning this battle."

Mareth was nearly strangling himself in an effort to laugh silently while Bashir's voice was scornful as he said, "Are you about to suggest some wild, Hibernian tactic that will triple our strength? You do presume, Declan, but give your advice. It is my decision whether or not I take it."

"Of course," said Declan. He raised his head for an instant to look down on the closest enemy position, then he went on quickly, "Am I right in thinking that the enemy is so confident of holding the element of surprise that they haven't bothered to post any outlying lookouts? If that is so then we are in an ideal position to make the surprise attack you plan. But I think the surprise would be more effective if we waited until the sun has risen a little above the horizon and is behind us and dazzling the eyes of the men below.

"Waiting would give us three advantages," he went on, unable to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. "The imminent arrival of the caravan should attract all of the enemy's attention to the leading camels in the train, and the trouble developing here on their eastern flank would not be clearly seen because of the low sun. That will make them uncertain, especially if you choose the same moment to attack their main body from the rear. While these things are happening, and to further confuse the enemy, later I would like two of your horsemen to ride with me from the front to the rear of the caravan. On that first pass we would not stop to fight. Instead we would ride like the wind, shouting loudly to the camel drivers as we went by that more help was coming. That would not be strictly true but it would further confuse the enemy…"

"It would be a barefaced lie," said Bashir, his teeth showing brightly in a face that was still gray with the growing light of dawn, "but an allowable stratagem in times of war. You have more advice?"

"Yes," said Declan, looking at Mareth, "for the bowmen."

"Go on," said Bashir.

Declan's eyes were on Mareth as he said, "The group below us are all lying prone, most of them with their backs to us as they watch for the caravan. They will make easy targets. At my signal, have your bowmen rise from cover and take careful aim, for the sun will be in the enemies' eyes and there will be plenty of time to aim and shoot the first flight of arrows as one and making each one of them find its mark. They will then advance down the slope on the enemy shooting at will, but I suggest they stop and kneel to steady themselves because an arrow loosed by a running bowman rarely finds its mark. By this time the survivors of the group will have organized themselves and will be shooting back, but they will still be dazzled by the sun behind you and will squint and hesitate while taking aim. When an enemy bowman has drawn back his bowstring and is about to loose an arrow, drop flat so as to give him the smallest possible target, the top of your head and shoulders, at which to aim and, hopefully, miss. When he is nocking another arrow, either shoot back at him or advance closer. Soon you will be too close for an exchange of arrows and you will use your swords to press home the attack. While you are doing this, I shall be drawing some of their attention with a flanking attack to further unsettle them. My horse is fast enough to make me a difficult target.

"But remember," he went on, "your men must remain calm and level-headed at all times. There must be no death or glory charges, no stupid heroics, and no heaps of brave, dead soldiers. We have a saying before battle that nobody lives forever, but in this case I want your men to try. This may not be your customary manner of warfare, but we are seriously outnumbered and must therefore fight in this cowardly fashion. Do you understand?"

Before the other could reply, Bashir said, "Declan, your advice is good and I'm taking it, all of it. Mareth, instruct your men accordingly and do not attack until Declan gives the word. When I see you go into action we also will attack. I have orders of my own to give…"

Bashir was moving down the slope toward the horses and Mareth was crawling with instructions toward the closest of his bowmen.