Prince of Wrath (66 page)

Astiras smiled. It was his destiny, he felt it. Now he was to take on a true enemy, a recognised enemy. An enemy that the rest of the world knew and respected. Now he would see whether Kastania still had teeth or was the finished force everyone else believed.

___

Amne lay exhausted. The birth hadn’t been an easy one and it had lasted all night and most of the morning. There had been a moment when the physician had feared the baby might die, but ultimately the princess had delivered a healthily crying new-born girl just as midday approached.

Now she lay in her bed, sore, tired, relieved. A tall glass of spring water stood by the bedside and she had drunk most of it. She was too exhausted to say much, and was inclined to do even less. The baby was snuggled into her right side and crook of her arm and was fast asleep, sleeping off the trauma of a long birth and emergence into a cold, noisy world where strange giant beings smacked her and then thrust her onto a soft surface. At least a feeding place had been provided, and they had wrapped her in something to keep her warmer which smelt nice.

“Congratulations, ma’am,” Lalaas smiled from the bedside, and you, sire,” he bowed to Elas who was standing on the other side, peering with an unreadable expression at his wife and daughter. “I won’t stay too long as I’m sure you wish to be left alone, and my duties are not to be neglected.”

Elas nodded briefly. “We thank you, Captain. You may announce that Princess Amne and myself are the proud parents of a new daughter, her name is Kola.”

“Kola. Nice name,” Lalaas nodded. He briefly eyed the sleeping child. Two daughters to the Koros dynasty. He wondered if Astiras would be pleased or not; he would probably have preferred a boy, especially seeing that Jorqel and Sannia had a daughter. Still, Kola looked healthy enough and so everyone ought to be happy. Too many mothers and babies died in child birth. The palace would have the patter of tiny feet once again. He bowed again and left.

“I’m very proud of you, Amne,” Elas said. “A beautiful daughter.”

Amne’s lips twitched into a tired smile. The pain had been nothing like she had ever experienced before, and hoped she would never have to again. Sannia had been right; her latest letter, which had arrived ten days previously, spoke of the experience but also promised of a feeling of satisfaction and pride after it was all over. Amne felt satisfied true enough, satisfied the whole ordeal was done with, but pride? How did she feel towards the small, warm lump pressed against her? Did she love Kola? Would Kola love her? How would Elas behave towards each of them? She hoped Elas would show Kola more feeling than he generally did towards her. “Thank you, Elas,” she whispered. “A daughter to make you a proud father. She’ll be the most loved child in the empire.”

Elas said nothing but looked again at the two. “You must be exhausted, Amne. I do not wish to keep you from a well-earned sleep. Do you wish Kola to be placed in her cot?”

Amne shook her head slowly. “Don’t want to disturb her.” She glanced over to the corner where her two handmaidens sat. “We’ll be watched over well.”

“Hmm, yes, of course. I shall leave you in that case, but I shall be right back should you need me. She is really very small, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but she’ll grow soon enough,” Amne said, and watched Elas as he departed. She sighed and shut her eyes. She needed to recover her strength.

Elas went to his office and called Lalaas to join him. The captain stood to attention before the prince, waiting. “Captain, can I have your assurance that Amne had not been with anyone around nine months ago?”

Lalaas shook his head. He knew Elas was concerned the child was not his, given Amne’s ready habit of having an affair. The only man he thought had been with her was Vosgaris, but he had been in Zofela for a long enough time – except Amne had visited him once. Was it too early at that time? “The only time she has been away from my notice was when she visited Zofela. She was escorted by the KIMM there and back. I’m sure that she followed protocol when she was in Bragal, sire.”

“Very well, Captain, then I shall take your word for it. What are the people saying?”

“Sire?”

Elas looked irritably at Lalaas. It had been a tiring and emotive period, waiting for the birth. “About the birth – about the war. About everything. I need to know the mood of the people, Captain. I intend showing my daughter from the balcony to the populace, but if they are speaking badly about my wife or the regime then I may reconsider.”

“Nothing bad, sire. They are excited about the birth. People in the city feel left out of things, to be honest. What with the Court moving to Bragal and Prince Jorqel beating you and Amne to the first birth, they badly need some good news. The war has frightened people, and they wonder whether our armies can hold back the Venn. All we’ve known recently are defeats. Perhaps a rousing speech in support of the emperor and his forces in Bragal? People work better when happy, and we need more supplies for our army in Bragal now they will have to fight.”

“Hmmm, I think you may be correct, Captain. Good, I’m pleased you have an intellect; I would hate to have to rely on mindless sycophants. I value your insight and comments, much more so than my advisors or so-called advisors. I get nothing fresh or innovative from them; it is so difficult having to constantly think up any new directive.”

Lalaas said nothing. He was what he was, and would not be a courtier. To him it was as much the fault of the ruler if people only said what they thought pleased those in charge.

Elas allowed Lalaas to continue with his duties. The captain went to his own offices to study the latest reports from his contacts in the streets of Kastan. Now that an official spying centre had been set up, in a brand new building towards the dock quarter, more information was coming in. Much of this information concerned rumours and hearsay, and Lalaas had to decide what was pure fiction and what may have some truth in it. Refugees were arriving from Tobralus, bringing with them tales of woe about the Tybar imposing a brutal regime, burning temples, executing priests, enslaving families of prominent Kastanians. The usual inflammatory tales, almost all with exaggerations, but it wasn’t in doubt that Taboz had been taken and was now part of the Tybar realm.

Another former imperial province had fallen. What the Tybar intended to do now was the big question. The stories brought to him via the brothels and beggars who acted as his ears and eyes in the back streets spoke of many soldiers, both mounted and on foot, nearly all of whom were armed with a bow, who filled the sky with their missiles and blocked out the sun. Soldiers standing before them melted away, either into piles of the fallen or fleeing the field. It seemed a classic Tybar tactic. How Kastania was to confront this when they finally went to war with them was a matter for the emperor to determine.

The ongoing development of the mounted archers was one improvement, but they were too inexperienced to face the hardened and veteran Tybar units who, undoubtedly, had learned to ride before they could walk. Kastania’s KIMM and LIMM units would be outshot and out-ridden in a confrontation.

The other worrying piece of news was that Taboz’s Balq Sea fleet had been seized by the Tybar and even now were forcing captive sailors into service on their behalf, chaining the luckless prisoners to their ships and installing a small commanding group of Tybar to take charge of each vessel. They could, feasibly, challenge the seas with what they had now. He had to bring that to the attention of Prince Elas. Admirals Fostan and Drakan would have to watch the Balq Sea from now on as well.

Lalaas sighed. War with Venn, Tybar expanding their realm. Kastania was beginning to see the squeeze on either side. He hoped Astiras would keep up his run of victories outside Zofela.

The line of men standing outside the dismantled walls of Zofela were silent. Above them the flags and pennants of Kastania, Bragal, Zofela and the Koros fluttered in the early autumn breeze. The sky was sullen, brooding, looking down on the men facing one another as if with disapproval.

The Kastanian army stood a hundred paces from the castle gateway in three groups. At the front stood the infantry, the militia in the centre and the Bragal levies on either flank. The three groups of archers formed the second echelon, with the imperial archers in the centre, the Bakran archers to their left and the assorted Bragalese to their other side. Finally at the rear was Astiras and his bodyguard.

Three hundred paces distant were the Venn. Their single company of archers stood in front, then came the two of spearmen. At the rear were the cavalry, a mass of armoured equinemen, ready to smash the impudent Kastanians.

Watching from the walkways and arrow slits in the castle were the people and ruling class of Zofela. Vosgaris and his palace guard stood in groups blocking the gaps in between the piles of stones, but they were pitifully thin and it was no doubt that should the Venn destroy the Army of the East then they would sweep the palace guard aside. Vosgaris had already informed his men to retreat to the castle if the battle went against the emperor; they would fight to the death for the empress and her family.

Isbel stood silent and nervous before one arrow slit. Argan was staring out of the next one, transfixed. Mr. Sen, Alenna and the administrative corps had the others. Istan was sulking in his room, not wishing to see the ‘stupid’ fight, on the grounds he had been asked whether he wished to or not. He was doubly piqued that nobody had made a fuss this time round and were ignoring him.

Astiras rode out with Teduskis by his side. He surveyed the Venn army for a moment, then turned to face his polyglot army. “Men of the empire,” he said, “you are here today fighting for your homes, your loved ones. You may be here fighting alongside people who until a short while ago were your enemies.” He saw one or two heads turn to look at the other units. “But now we are all united against a common foe, a foe who despises all of us equally, and is determined to destroy each of our identities and cultures. We Kastanians have already showed you of Bragal and the Bakran Mountains that we do not intend to destroy your identities. We intend building an empire out of all of our respective strengths. Over there stand a people who want to kill us all, and your families and children. Do I not speak the truth? Did not your own people, brave warriors of Bragal, tell you first hand of the burning of the villages? Therefore today I do not need to tell you of fighting for an ideal, or a flag, or an emperor. Today, you know, all of you, Kastanian, Bragalese or Bakranian, that you fight so that your friends, families and descendants should live. Today will be the first battle of many, but this battle is the most important – for today we here, we eight hundred, shall show Venn, Mazag and all the world that to invade our lands is to invite disaster and death upon them!”

The soldiers raised their weapons and cheered. Astiras then pointed behind the soldiers and all turned to look. There was the overseer of the slaves standing by the gatehouse with a burning brazier. As they looked he dropped a sheaf of parchments and papers into it and the flames rose higher. “See, your records as slaves have been destroyed. You no longer are recorded as having been enslaved by me,” he said to the Bragalese levies.

The two companies of levies cheered again. Landwaster was living up to his word. Astiras glanced over his left shoulder. “In a few moments you will see another army approaching from that direction. They will be our Mazag allies, and in between us we will crush these fools standing before us. Now stand ready and wait for my command.” He looked at Teduskis. “Let’s go talk to the fools. The longer we wait the better; my message should have reached General Vanist by now and they’ll be on their way.”

The two slowly walked towards the Venn lines, arrayed at the bottom of the gentle slope that ran from the gatehouse to the edge of the woodland that lay before the base of the rises that marked the edge of the valley. They halted halfway between the two forces and Teduskis raised a white cloth on his lance, signifying a parley.

Alcazui grunted. He had been waiting for such a move. Such was the norm prior to the shedding of blood. Honour and tradition demanded it. He gestured to his aide-de-camp, a light-eyed muscular lieutenant, picked for his ability to speak Kastanian. The two moved through the lines of spearmen and the archers, and approached the two waiting men. Alcazui, dressed in his chainmail with a red surcoat with the coat of arms of Venn emblazoned across it, noted the heavy armour worn by the two Kastanians. Better than anything he or his cavalry had.

They halted ten paces away. The equines tossed their heads and snorted. “So,” Astiras said, surprising both with his fluent if rather old-style Talian, “we have come to this. You have made a great error in invading my lands.”

“You speak Talian well,” Alcazui said.

“The benefits of a noble education. We study the classic language of our past,” Astiras said, “even if it is no longer spoken in our lands. I ask one last time for you to turn about and return to your lands and bother us no more. We did not ask for this.”

Alcazui raised one arm in apology. “Alas, I am but a humble servant of my lord the Duke, who has decreed that your lands are his and therefore to be taken accordingly. I cannot go against the word of my liege, as I’m sure you understand.”

Astiras grunted. “Then you condemn yourself and your outnumbered army to an ignominious defeat. You may be interested to know that even as we speak the Mazag are marching towards us from your left flank. They will be here shortly. If I were you I’d get out of here while you can.”

Alcazui swung his head in alarm. Nothing stirred to the left – the west. The road was empty. “You jest,” he said, returning his attention to Astiras. “I implore you to surrender, thus avoiding your men a painful experience at the hands of my cavalry. I note you have a larger army but to my experience eye they are untrained levies, and will be food and drink to my equinemen. You send them all to their deaths cheaply. Your walls are dismantled, your defences are gone. What is there to stop my men from sacking the town once you have been swept aside? In the name of Sonos, I beg you to show pity on your peasant army.”

Astiras chuckled. “Well then, Talian canine, try your best. Use your much vaunted cavalry on my men. They shall be slaughtered to a man. We have nothing more to say.” He wheeled and Teduskis followed. As they walked their steeds back, Astiras nodded to the imperial right. “That’s where they’ll come. It’s the open flank. We’ll shift position to support the Bragalese levies and militia.”

Teduskis nodded, tossing away the white cloth. “We use the archers now?”

“Yes, get the battle going. I’m bored with standing around like a virgin outside a brothel.”

Teduskis laughed. “Very good sire, I’ll give the command.”

They returned to the rest of the heavy bodyguard and the flags were grasped and raised. The signal to start the battle was given, and the imperial archers, armed with the feared Taboz bow, stepped up to the line of spearmen and raised their bows. The Venn archers, standing in front of their army, suddenly found shafts landing amongst them. Men began screaming and falling.

“Mother, it’s started!” Argan shouted unnecessarily. “They’re killing the Venn archers!”

“Hush, Argan,” Isbel said, horror-struck but unable to tear herself away from the sight. She’d never seen warfare before and the sudden brutal death of the enemy was like a splash of freezing cold water to her senses. “I can see it myself.”

“And there are flags coming from the woodlands!” the prince shouted again excitedly. “It’s Mazag!”

Astiras was nudged by Teduskis who indicated the appearance of the Mazag flags on the ridge near the woodlands to the west. Vanist had concealed his men there out of sight of the Venn scouts. Now the battle had begun he was marching his men to aid his allies. He knew his liege would not have looked kindly upon him for starting a war against Venn, but now the Kastanians and Venn were going at one another he felt quite free to intervene.

Alcazui also saw the flags. “Damn it!” he exclaimed. “We must attack now before they get here! Cavalry! Charge!” he raised his sword and urged the two hundred and forty men to pass through the spearmen. As he did so, he leaned towards his infantry captain. “Swing left and block the Mazag from getting to us.”

The captain saluted and began to wheel his men round. They were outnumbered but they would do as they were commanded. The Venn archers scattered, disrupted by the shafts falling amongst themselves, and so the Venn cavalry were now presented with a clear run to the Kastanian lines.

Astiras gripped his reins tightly. “Archers pull back. Infantry, brace for impact!” This would be the moment, the vital part of the battle. If his men could stand up to the killing charge of the Venn cavalry, they had a chance. “Do not flee. Cavalry love fleeing infantry. Your only chance is to stand and fight like men. I will be here with you, now brace!”

They looked at the mass of charging Venn cavalry, heavy equines with an armoured knight astride them, lances pointing at the terrified infantry, standing in five ranks. The first two ranks knelt, their spear butts in the ground, the points of their weapons thrust forward, hoping to impale the charging beasts on them. It looked like the right and centre of the Kastanian lines were going to be hit.

“Their infantry aren’t coming,” Teduskis pointed out. “They’re going to face the Mazag!”

“Then if we see this lot off, we’re laughing,” Astiras said, dragging out his sword. “Captain Sepan! Stand fast!”

Sepan, standing in between the two companies of Kastanian militia spearmen, raised his fist in acknowledgement. There was no time to talk or look around; the Venn were almost upon them. Soldiers shut their eyes, prayed to their gods and set themselves as best they could as the thundering sound of hundreds of hoofs intensified, along with the snorting of the equines, the clinking of buckles and the roaring of the knights as they bore down on the static lines of the enemy.

With a gut-wrenching crash, the cavalry hit, smashing aside the front rank and ploughing into the second. Lances snapped and either went flying up into the air or skewered luckless spearmen or levies. Equines went down, screaming in pain. Their riders were spilled to the ground with teeth-jarring force. Men were hurled into their enemies, sending bodies flying backwards, arms and legs flailing. The second line was pressed back into the third, men rolling to their feet as fast as they could. As the Kastanian line recoiled and stretched, the Venn cavalry turned and tore itself free from the stunned infantry.

Argan stared in wonder at the scene. He was directly behind the Kastanian army and the height of four men above it, and had a spectacular view of the melee. “They’re using cavalry on spears, Mr. Sen!” he exclaimed. “That’s silly!”

Mr. Sen nodded. “Indeed, young Prince, well noted, but I think the Venn commander has no option; look at how he is being trapped in between two forces. If he does not break our lines, he has lost, so he is desperate.”

Astiras roared at the top of his voice. The Venn commander was urging his men to withdraw, regroup, and come at them again. The Mazag army was bearing down on the Venn left flank, their spearmen at the front, weapons pointed forward, and the space to manoeuver was getting cramped. “Up, up, all of you!” he shouted to the struggling spearmen. “Those of you wounded to the rear, now! Ranks four and five step forward, and brace!”

The Bragalese militia archers couldn’t contain themselves and let loose a volley of arrows that showered the reforming cavalry, cutting down half a dozen of them, but Alcazui had got his force turned and they were now lining up for another charge. He pointed to the Kastanian right and the charge began, the clods of earth being thrown up by so many equines.

Astiras signalled for his Bragal levies on the left to swing in to support the damaged centre, then could do no more than keep his eye on how the battle was going. The second charge did not have the impact of the first, but the knights were now all using their swords, and they struck the Kastanian lines from the middle to the right, knocking into the infantry, trying to cut them up into small pockets so they could be butchered at will. Alcazui and his unit swept through the levies on the right and into the Bragalese militia behind them, hacking and slicing their way forward.

The Kastanian militia struggled with the other two squadrons of Venn knights who beat at them frantically, knowing they must break through or all would be lost. As the levies on the left moved over, they mobbed the knights on the Venn right and a desperate melee developed. With a height advantage the Venn slashed down and down again, beating at the upraised shields of the desperate men on foot. It was all the imperial soldiers could do to stop being cut to pieces. Men crawled away from the madness, trailing blood and torn flesh, crying out for help. Astiras waved some watching people by the gates to aid them, then noticed that the left hand militia unit was giving too much ground.

“Teduskis, how goes the Mazag front?”

“They are closing on the Venn spears, sire.”

“Very good. To me. We take on their right.” Astiras pointed his sword at the Venn squadron trying to slash its way through the imperial unit just to his left, the archers edging away in fear. “Stand aside!” Astiras commanded, and led his sixty-two men forward at a walk. There would be no charge, for it would kill his own men as well as the enemy. He was not concerned for he and his men were well armoured and were more than a match for the Venn knights.