The Blood-stained Belt (22 page)

To extract more
information, our men knocked blindfolded the fellow and knocked him
around a bit, making a game of it by forming a circle and shoving
him in all directions so that he never knew who would push him next
or in which direction he would stumble. Then, when he dropped to
the ground sniveling and exhausted, we threatened to torture him if
he didn't tell us everything that he knew. At that, he sobbed and
clung to Sharma's legs so tightly that he had to be prised loose
and dragged away while Sharma looked at him in distaste. To get him
to talk some more, some of our men held him down, pulled up his
tunic, and pressed a knife against his genitals. Although he
writhed, wailed, and screamed, even in the extreme of his terror he
could only repeat what he had already said.

It was clear
that he had nothing more to offer so I decided to let him go.
However, Sharma pointed out that the man should be prevented from
carrying information to the Dornite army, just in case that was in
his mind. When we killed his donkey, the man cried out and kneeled
down next to the dead beast weeping and rocking up and down so that
his head hit the ground with a soft thud with each forward
movement. At that point, Sharma had second thoughts and wanted to
kill the fellow but I couldn't see the sense in it. Truly, I had
had enough of slaughtering pathetic creatures. It brought back such
unpleasant memories that I could have imitated the fellow by
knocking my own head against the ground if only that would have
cleared my mind of the images that beset it. Of course, I didn't
say that to Sharma. Instead, I told him that killing a helpless
civilian would demoralise our men. Sharma muttered 'Maybe you're
right', and ordered two of our men to get rid of the fellow. They
lashed him to one of our spare horses and rode off with him with
orders to release him somewhere to the south at a considerable
distance from the highway. As he disappeared into the mist with his
escort, he was bent forward over the horse's neck, shoulders
hunched, like a condemned man going to his death. Probably he was
too frightened to understand that we were giving him his
freedom.

At midday we
split up. Sharma’s section went south of the highway and my section
went north. It was a miserable afternoon. The wind gusted off the
escarpment, rain battered us in sharp squalls and the ground was
cold and sodden. Nothing moved on the highway. It was as if the
world had been cleared of life and only our detachment was remained
to trudge over its dreary surface.

In the early
evening, I rode over and joined Sharma.

I said, ‘We’re
wasting our time. The Dornites aren’t bringing up supplies
today.’

Sharma nodded.
‘They probably have everything that they need for the moment.’

We huddled
together, cold and wet, considering the situation. Sharma said,
‘They probably took enough with them to last for a few days. After
that, they’ll bring up fresh supplies and live off the land at the
same time.’

‘If our army
doesn’t stop them.’

Sharma said
grimly, ‘Yes, if our army doesn’t stop them.’ He stamped his feet
vigorously and cursed. ‘By Zabrazal, this is miserable! No action,
and freezing weather on top of it.’

I said, 'We’re
wasting our time. We need to find the Dornites or link up with our
own forces.’

Sharma
muttered, ‘I can tell you where the Dornites are – somewhere up
there.’ He pointed towards the pass and the escarpment.

‘Well, then,
let’s go and find them. We’re not doing any good, hanging around
here.’

We spent a
miserable night in the open, sheltering under trees and bushes,
huddled together. Early next morning we moved eastwards, parallel
with the highway. It was slow going, keeping an eye on the road,
sending out scouts, waiting for their reports, and then moving
forward cautiously over the rough, sodden ground. Finally, at
mid-afternoon, one of our scouts reported that he thought that he
had located the Dornite army. Sharma and I rode forward to
investigate and just before sunset we found the enemy camped in a
valley to the south of the highway.

We crept up to
the top of the ridge, cursing under our breaths as we elbowed
through mud and as the damp seeped into our clothes. Worming our
ways to the edge, we looked into the valley. Sharma gave a low
whistle. ‘It’s them all right.’

‘It’s a bigger
force than last time, I reckon.’

‘It sure looks
like it.’

As the light
faded, we studied the position. Sharma said, ‘They’re supremely
confident. They don’t even have scouts out on this side to cover
their rear.’

I replied
grimly, 'Based on their last performance, they have reason to be
confident.'

Sharma said,
'Let's hope that our commanders have come up with something new.
Our army won't survive another defeat like the last one.'

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN: THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM

What could we
do with only fifty men? There we were, unobserved, within striking
distance of the Dornite camp but unable to carry out a decisive
action. In my frustration, I imagined that I could stretch out my
hand, seize the whole camp, and crush it in my fist. After all,
what was it but a few thousand men? From our position on the ridge,
with the whole camp spread out beneath us in the valley, the camp
had the appearance of toy tents and toy soldiers. It seemed
incongruous that such a small force could stand between Keirine and
security.

However, even
as I fantasised about removing the whole Dornite army with one
sweep of my hand, I recognised that these few thousand men and what
they represented had already changed the shape of Keirine.
Somewhere in front of the Dornites, lying across their line of
advance, there was a king with an army -- the first king and army
that Keirine ever had. Without the threat of the Dornites, Keirine
would have continued with its old, timeworn practices as a tribal
federation with part-time militias. Now things had changed forever,
for better or for worse.

We lay there
shivering and damp for about an hour while night fell and the
Dornites lit fires and prepared their meals. Pairs of guards were
posted all around the camp. As we peered into the valley and
considered various possibilities, I suddenly had an idea. I nudged
Sharma and whispered, ‘The supply wagons!’

Sharma said,
‘That’s a possibility!’

The wagons were
standing together on the southern side of the camp with their
contents covered by oilskins. I said, ‘The contents will be dry. If
we can get fire into the wagons, under the oilskins –‘

That’s what we
did. At about midnight, our men took out the three pairs of guards
nearest to the wagons. After that, it was easy to lift smouldering
logs from the nearest fire, put them into the wagons, and then
retire quietly. The outcome was satisfactory. Although the Dornites
managed to extinguish the blazes in some of the wagons, about
twenty burned out completely. In addition, there was an unexpected
bonus when containers of oil exploded, setting fire to a number of
tents.

We retired
southwards, leaving scouts to observe the camp. While our men
sheltered under rock overhangs, Sharma and I planned our next move.
It was clear that we only had two options -- either to try to
disrupt the Dornite supply lines, if there was anything to disrupt,
or to link up with our army. What to do? We sat in glum silence for
a while, hugging our knees to protect ourselves from the cold.
After a while, Sharma said, 'I wish I knew what the Dornites were
going to do next.'

I nodded. It
was going to be a waiting game. I said, ‘We don’t know exactly
where our army is except that they’re somewhere up ahead. We might
as well stay here and exploit any opening that the Dornites give
us.’

Sharma grunted
in agreement.

Just after
sunrise, our scouts reported that the Dornites were moving forward
in battle order. I wanted to get going immediately but Sharma put a
restraining hand on my arm, saying, 'Hold it, Jina. Not so
fast.'

'Hold it? Why?
You don't want to hang around here, do you?'

Sharma replied
quietly, 'How many men do we have?'

'You know the
answer -- fifty-two, counting us.'

'Fifty-two men
aren't going to make much difference.'

'Maybe not.
But, damn it, we can't just hang around here. We have to do
something useful.'

Sharma said,
'Then let's use our men to the best advantage.'

'How?'

'Let's not
commit ourselves too early. We'll wait for an opportunity to hit
the Dornites when we can have maximum effect.'

Within an hour,
our force was positioned behind a ridge above the battlefield.
Sharma and I went forward and looked down from a position where the
Dornite army was directly below us and our army was about one
thousand paces to our right, already moving forward at walking
pace. The Dornites responded by moving their chariots into the
centre of their line while their cavalry took up a position in the
rear.

Sharma
whispered, 'The ground is so wet it's practically a swamp. Their
cavalry and chariots aren't going to move easily in these
conditions.'

'What about us?
We're also mounted.'

Sharma nodded
thoughtfully. He pulled at an ear and said, 'We'd better stick to
the hillsides. That way we'll be more mobile.'

As I watched
the scene below, my mouth went dry and my stomach muscles
tightened. I muttered, 'This waiting and watching is worse than
actually being there.'

Sharma grunted
in agreement. Lying shoulder to shoulder with him, I could feel
that he was quivering like a great cat that has stalked its prey
and now waits for just the right opportunity, the moment of its
victim's greatest weakness, to pounce. I glanced at him. His tongue
was flickering over his lips and the flecks in his eyes were
gleaming as he gazed intently at the scene below. He gave the
impression that he was on the point of leaping over the ridge to
pounce on the prey below with one ferocious lunge. I put an arm
around his shoulders and whispered, 'Hold steady, Sharma.'

He looked at me
with veiled eyes. Then he blinked as if he was refocusing on
matters nearer to hand, shook his head vigorously, and muttered,
'No problem! I'm all right.'

I held him
firmly across his shoulders while the tension eased out of him and
the quivering subsided. After about a minute, he looked at me and
muttered, 'I just want to get at them – that's all.'

Our army
continued to advance. About six hundred paces separated them from
the Dornites. Then it was five hundred. Then it was four hundred.
Through gritted teeth, Sharma said, 'What the hell are they doing?
They're just advancing in line abreast. The Dornites will find a
weak point in the line and that will be the end of them, just like
the last time.'

I could only
nod in agreement and grit my teeth. It was like watching a dramatic
performance based on a well-known myth in which everyone in the
audience knows the tragic outcome but can't do anything to change
the course of events. What made it worse for me was the knowledge
that my brother, Abozi, was down there somewhere and could well be
a victim of the same ham-headed tactics that led to disaster at the
first battle of Gandonda.

Suddenly,
shouted commands reached our ears through the heavy air. Sharma
gripped my arm and asked in excitement, 'Do you see that?'

I saw it, too.
The unit in the centre re-formed into a square formation and lances
swung into the air. During their advance, the men had trailed the
lances behind them and we hadn't been able to see them. Now, in an
instant, the unit bristled with sharp-pointed menace.

Sharma said,
'By Zabrazal, they're going to form a wall!'

I didn’t reply.
The scene below transfixed me. It was if the script of a well known
drama had changed abruptly in mid-act. In an instant, the plot was
wide open and unpredictable. What had been discussed between Sharma
and me on the heights above Asjolorm, sketched roughly in the dust,
now became a three-dimensional scene enacted by live players.

The square
moved forward at a slow walk while the wings advanced slightly
ahead of it. Now there was confusion in the Dornite army. Officers
scuttled around behind the ranks and the cavalry withdrew by about
one hundred paces. After another series of commands, their centre
opened to let the chariots through.

Sharma gripped
my arm and said in elation, 'The chariots! They're playing into our
hands!'

I muttered in
tense excitement, ‘We’ve got them this time!’

The chariots
moved sluggishly in the mud, trying to look for an opening while
the square moved onto them at an inexorable pace. It was a disaster
for the Dornites. The long lances skewered the horses and the
drivers who tried to turn their vehicles to flee but were either
held by the mud or collided with other chariots. Skirmishers from
our flanks moved in to finish off any Dornites who didn't flee back
to their own ranks. It was a slaughter.

The square
moved forward at the same pace, opening to bypass the derelict
chariots and the dead and wounded horses, and then closed ranks
again as it approached the Dornite army. The men on the flanks
withdrew to the rear of the square, which opened to allow them to
enter. Once again, a solid monolith advanced on the Dornite
ranks.

I whispered,
'We should be down there, man. There's work to do.'

Sharma licked
his lips and shook his head, saying, 'Not yet, my friend, not yet.
Our time will come.' He glanced behind us and said, 'But it's time
for our men to prepare for action.' With his eyes fixed on the
battlefield, Sharma muttered, 'Tell them to keep out of sight. When
we hit the Dornites, we're going to hit them hard.'

I got to my
feet, turned to go, and then on a sudden thought said, 'Perhaps we
should ask Zabrazal to bless our venture.'