Rebels of Gor (14 page)

Indeed, it was my hope that local peasantries, from which the draymen would be impressed, might eventually be recruited as allies.

There were, of course, given the wagons, a great many of them.

“Where are the Ashigaru archers?” asked Torgus.

“I do not know,” I said. In scouting the train I had discerned no archers, no guards.

“Why are these wagons not moving at night?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said. Of late, the supply wagons had begun to enter upon the roads only after the descent of Tor-tu-Gor.

Perhaps, I thought to myself, that there be conditions of maximum visibility.

“Bannerman,” said I to Ichiro, “approach our friends in the fields. Greet them. Assure them they are welcome to what we do not take.”

Ichiro complied with this request, and, in a few Ehn, returned.

“They do not respond,” he said.

They were still standing, not moving, in the fields.

“I do not understand,” said Torgus.

“Perhaps they are afraid,” I said.

Who could forget the heads further to the south, aligning the road.

“Perhaps,” said Torgus.

“I do not like it,” I said, looking about.

“Nor I,” said Torgus.

I climbed to the top of a wagon. I saw nothing.

Why had the peasants in the fields not responded to Ichiro?

This seemed anomalous.

Commonly we had little difficulty with local peasantries, from which draymen would be drawn. Indeed, we had often received pertinent intelligences from them. Several had proved invaluable in locating rice, in notifying us of supply trains, the times, the routes, the number of guards, and such. Indeed, I did not doubt but what many of the peasants watching from the fields were no more enamored of the policies and practices of Lord Yamada than the fellows who scouted and spied for us.

“Captain
san
,” said Ichiro.

“Bannerman?” I said.

“They did not speak,” said Ichiro.

“You indicated that,” I said.

“Why did they not speak?” he asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“Perhaps they would not speak as peasants,” he said.

“Did you see their hands?” I asked.

“Their hands,” he said, “were held in their sleeves.”

“That is a noble posture,” I said.

“Unlike peasants,” he said.

“Alert the men,” I said.

“Yes, Captain
san
,” he said.

Matters were as I had suspected; nonetheless, as rice was at stake, it seemed well to make sure.

I drew my blade and thrust down at the canvas which covered the contents of the wagon.

As I had feared the blade slipped through the canvas, encountered a layer of rice, supported by another canvas, stretched taut beneath the rice, and then met nothing.

I stood up, looking about, and resheathed the blade. I gave no sign of concern or agitation. There was a stirring amongst the men at the side, off from the road. Surely many had marked my action.

“Bannerman,” said I. “Sound ‘Saddles’ and ‘One-strap’.”

Hardly had the first notes rung out than we heard another sound, the war blast of the
horagai
, and blades in their dozens thrust up through the canvas of dozens of wagons, cutting and ripping, and, emerging from the shreds of rent canvas, were screaming, armed men, many of two swords. At the same time the draymen, whom we had taken as peasantry, uttering the cry “Yamada,” rushed toward the wagons, each bearing a dagger. Other covers on wagons were cast aside and archers stood revealed. From other wagons arose Ashigaru, armed with glaives.

The mighty wings of my tarn struck the air, and I saw one fellow stumble, his forearm over his eyes, lost in a sheet of driven dust, and I was aflight. All about me, and down the lines of the wagons, fore and aft, other tarns sprang into the air. I saw wielded glaives below me, and men looking up wildly, scattered amongst the wagons, and daggers were brandished in vain.

I looked back down.

“Cleverly done, great Yamada,” I thought. “But better to have had fewer wagons, and some guards in evidence.”

The men of two swords were looking up, angrily, their swords already sheathed or sashed.

The sun caught a hundred slivers of light as arrows fell back to earth.

“Bannerman,” I called. “Assembly and four-strap.”

I brought the cavalry down a pasang and a half from the road. This descent, I hoped, would be marked by the men of Yamada’s projected ambush, adding to their frustration. Should they approach we might easily be away before we were within the range of their arrows, let alone their blades, and should they be so unwise as to approach
en masse
the wagons would be behind them, abandoned, and vulnerable.

Following our landing I summoned Torgus and Lysander to me; when the cavalry had been at full force each would have commanded a Century, or Hundred.

“What losses?” I asked.

“None,” said Torgus. “None,” said Lysander.

“Lord Yamada,” I said, “is clever.”

“Deception,” said Lysander, “is the name of war.” Lysander, I was sure, though I had not pursued the matter, had once been of the scarlet. In his background, I suspected, was a woman, perhaps a slave, and perhaps murder.

“The bait,” said rough-spoken Torgus, “was too tempting.”

“I think so,” I said.

“Had we devoted ourselves hastily and uncritically to the wagons,” said Lysander, “I suspect there would have been few of us left.”

“True,” said Torgus.

“Men and mounts are accounted for,” said Lysander.

“Perhaps we shall not return immediately to the base,” I said.

“How so?” said Torgus.

“I do not think there is enough rice for us to linger about, hoping to secure it,” said Lysander, “and what there may be is heavily guarded.”

“I have something else in mind,” I said, “at least for now.”

“Speak,” said Torgus.

“It is my understanding,” I said, “that the major forces of General Yamada are committed to the siege.”

“That is our intelligence,” said Lysander.

“Which would mean,” I suggested, “the likely vulnerability of certain properties within his domain.”

“We are not sure of this,” said Torgus. “It seems likely, but it is hard to know. He may have large reserves at his disposal. What if he were to be challenged by a risen population?”

“There is little likelihood at present,” I said, “of a native challenge from within his domain.”

“No,” said Torgus. “Men tremble. Yamada rules by force and terror.”

“At the least indication of resistance,” said Lysander, “fearful reprisals would ensue.”

“Only those loyal to Yamada may carry weapons,” said Torgus, “his soldiers, his officers, his police.”

I nodded. One always disarms a populace before its enslavement.

“But others might come by arms,” said Lysander. “We have the road of the sky at our disposal, the darkness of night, the swiftness of tarns.”

“Beware,” said Torgus, “of delivering weapons to strangers. The peasantry may prove loyal to Yamada, if only through fear.”

“In any event,” I said, “as of now, as far as we know, the peasantry is without arms.”

“Very well,” said Lysander. “We shall discount them, as of now.”

“But we need not, do we, discount ourselves?” I said.

“Speak,” said Torgus.

“Are you content,” I asked, “that the operations of the cavalry should be limited largely to reconnaissance, to the securing of supplies, and such?”

“No,” said Torgus.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Lysander, warily.

“Perhaps something more has occurred to you, my friends,” I said.

“Raids, of course,” said Torgus. “We can strike muchly when and where we please. Yamada’s perimeters of defense are lengthy, and his reserves, if he does not fear the peasantry, may well be minimal and scattered.”

“It is my understanding,” said Lysander, “Lord Temmu has not authorized the use of the cavalry.”

“For such a purpose,” I said.

“Why not?” asked Lysander.

“Were that known,” I said, “much else would be clear.”

“We are then helpless,” said Lysander.

“Not at all,” I said.

“How so?” said Lysander.

“Rogue arms,” I said, “are not unprecedented in war.”

“I see,” he said.

In the chaos of war, beasts might come from afar to hunt amongst the ruins. Often bands of brigands, consortiums of irregulars, even bandits, roamed disputed, ill-defended landscapes.

“Consider this,” I said. “There is a war to be fought, and won.”

“Discipline,” said Lysander.

“Discipline,” I said, “is not an end in itself. It is a means. One does not expect well-ordered troops, properly disciplined, in the name of discipline, to march off cliffs or devour poison.”

“No,” said Lysander.

“A contrived discipline, designed by partisans to produce defeat,” I said, “is no discipline. It is to be denied. It is the betrayal of discipline. It is to be eschewed.”

“I am uneasy,” said Lysander.

“One must choose,” I said.

“There are risks,” said Lysander.

“There are always risks,” I said. “I propose we labor on behalf of the house of Temmu, but independent of the dais. Let us fight in its favor, advancing its interests, independent of its chain of command, as best we can.”

“This is disloyal,” said Lysander.

“No,” I said, “it is a greater loyalty.”

“The cavalry,” said Torgus, “would be, in effect, a free company.”

“Let it seem so,” I said, “at least to the enemy.”

“If I understand you aright,” said Lysander, “it would seem so to Lord Temmu, as well.”

“At least,” I said, “to those who have his ear, and sway his policy.”

“This is dangerous,” said Lysander.

“Less so,” I said, “than inaction, and a refusal to counter larger numbers.”

“You suggest raids,” said Torgus, with satisfaction.

“Particularly now,” I said.

“Why ‘particularly now’?” asked Lysander.

“We have already noted,” I said, “two things of interest, the likely inertia of a peasantry, which would allow limited defensive precautions on the part of Lord Yamada, and the lack of an authorization for raids, which I suspect is as well understood by General Yamada as by those who stand high in the house of Temmu.”

“Thus,” said Torgus, “raids will not be anticipated.”

“Not deep raids, not against his heartland,” I said.

“And thus,” said Lysander, “the likely paucity of an adequate defense.”

“Given a passive peasantry and an inactive, curbed, cavalry, not to be feared, he is likely to be prepared only for pilfering, or, say, isolated acts of brigandage.”

“There may be then,” said Lysander, “no adequate defense of various holdings of the enemy, let us say, perhaps, warehouses, granaries, castles, palaces, and barracks.”

“I would think not,” I said.

“Excellent,” said Torgus. “When should we strike? A day from now, two days, a week?”

“Yes,” said Lysander. “How soon?”

“Now,” I said.

“Now?” said Torgus.

“Consider this,” I said. “In the train, there were many wagons. Let us suppose one hundred, and let us suppose each was drawn by ten men.”

“Many by more,” said Torgus.

“But let us say there were a thousand.”

“Very well,” said Torgus.

“Those men, clearly,” I said, “were not of the peasantry.”

“No,” said Torgus.

“Now,” I said, “there were perhaps four or five archers, Ashigaru, warriors, or such in several of the wagons, let us say, in eighty of the wagons. That would give us something like four hundred more men.”

“Very well,” said Torgus.

“Let us then suppose,” I said, “that fourteen or fifteen hundred men were committed to the ambush, and that this would deplete an already restricted home guard, and that these men are far from Yamada’s major holdings, and are all afoot.”

“Yes,” said Torgus.

“I see,” said Lysander.

“Captain
san
,” said Ichiro. “Enemy contingents approach.”

“Are the wagons left unguarded?”

“Yes, Captain
san
,” said Ichiro.

“Excellent,” I said. “When the enemy is nearly within arrow range, eagerly near, ready to put arrows to the string, you may sound assembly and one-strap. We will then rise up, circle about, burn the wagons, and then fly south.”

“They will then hurry south, after us,” said Lysander.

“I do not think they will arrive in time to extinguish a thousand fires,” said Torgus.