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Sparhawk stood watching the boy as he returned to the festivities under the canopy. It was obviously time to start being a little careful around Talen. He was dangerously intelligent, and a slip of the tongue might give away things that were supposed to be kept private. The discussion had raised an issue, however. Sparhawk went back to the group gathered on the hilltop and took Berit aside. ‘Go tell the knights that if those people out there decide to wait until after dark to attack, I’ll take care of giving us light to work by. If we all try to do it at the same time, we might confuse things.’
Berit nodded.
Sparhawk considered it further. ‘And I’ll go talk with Kring and Engessa,’ he added. ‘We don’t want the Atans and the Peloi going into a panic if the sky suddenly lights up along about midnight tonight.’
‘Is that what you’re going to do?’ Berit asked.
‘It usually works out about the best in cases like this. One big light’s easier to control than several hundred little ones – and it disrupts the enemy’s concentration a lot more.’
Berit grinned. ‘It would be a little startling to be creeping through the bushes and have the sun come back up again, wouldn’t it?’
‘A lot of battles have been averted by lighting up the night, Berit, and a battle averted is sometimes even better than one you win.’
‘I’ll remember that, Sparhawk.’
The afternoon wore on, and the party on the hilltop became a little strained. There were only so many things to laugh at, and only so many jokes to tell. The warriors around the base of the hill either spent their time attending to equipment or pretending to sleep.
Sparhawk met with the others about mid-afternoon out near the road.
‘If they don’t know by now that we aren’t going any farther today, they aren’t very bright,’ Kalten noted.
‘We do look a bit settled in, don’t we?’ Ulath agreed.
‘A suggestion, Sparhawk?’ Tynian offered.
‘Why do you always say that?’
‘Habit, I suppose. I was taught to be polite to my elders. Even the best of spells isn’t going to give us the same kind of light we’ll have before the sun goes down. We know they’re out there, we’re in position and we’re rested. Why don’t we push things a bit? If we can force them to attack now, we can fight them in daylight.’
‘How are you going to make somebody attack when he doesn’t want to?’ Patriarch Emban asked.
‘We start making obvious preparations, your Grace,’ Tynian replied. ‘It’s logical to start on the field fortifications about now anyway. Let’s put up the palisade around the foot of the hill, and start digging ditches.’
‘And cutting trees,’ Ulath added. ‘We could clear away some avenues leading out into the woods and pile all the tree trunks up where they’ll hinder anybody trying to come through the forest. If they’re going to attack, let’s make them attack across open ground.’
It took a surprisingly short time. The logs for the fence around the base of the hill were already sharpened and stacked in neat piles where they were handy. Digging them in was an easy matter. The birch trees in the forest were all no more than ten inches thick at the base, and they fell quickly to the axes of the warriors and were dragged into the surrounding forest to form large, jumbled piles which would be virtually impossible to penetrate, even for men on foot.
Sparhawk and the others went back up to the hilltop to survey their preparations. ‘Why don’t they attack us now, before we’re ready?’ Emban tensely asked the knights.
‘Because it takes time to organise an attack, your Grace,’ Bevier explained. ‘The scouts have to run back and tell the generals what we’re doing; the generals have to sneak through the woods to have a look for themselves; and then they all have to get together and argue about what they’re going to do. They were planning an ambush. They aren’t really ready to attack fortified positions. The business of adjusting one’s thinking to a different tactical situation is what takes the longest.’
‘How long?’
‘It depends entirely on the personality of the man in charge. If his mind was really set on an ambush, it could take him as long as a week.’
‘He’s dead then, Bevier-Knight,’ Engessa told the Cyrinic tersely. ‘As soon as we saw the warriors in the woods I dispatched a dozen of my people to the garrison at Sarsos. If our enemy takes more than two days to make up his mind, he’ll have five thousand Atans climbing his back.’
‘Sound thinking, Atan Engessa,’ Tynian approved. He pondered it. ‘A thought, Sparhawk. If our friend out there gets all caught up in indecision, we can just continue to strengthen our defences around this hill – ditches, sharpened stakes, the usual encumbrances. Each improvement we add will make him think things over that much longer – which will give us time to add more fortifications, which will make him think all the more. If we can keep him thinking for two days, the Atans from Sarsos will come up behind him and wipe out his force before he ever gets around to using it.’
‘Good point,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Let’s get to it.’
‘I thought that being a military person just involved banging on people with axes and swords,’ Emban conceded.
‘There’s a lot of that involved too, your Grace,’ Ulath smiled, ‘but it doesn’t hurt to outsmart your enemy a little too.’ He looked at Bevier. ‘Engines?’ he asked.
Bevier blinked. Ulath’s cryptic questions always took him by surprise for some reason.
‘As long as we have some time on our hands, we could erect some catapults on the hilltop. Attacking through a rain of boulders is always sort of distracting. Getting hit on the head with a fifty pound rock always seems to break a man’s concentration for some reason. If we’re going to set up for a siege, we might as well do it right.’ He looked around at them. ‘I still don’t like sieges though,’ he added. ‘I want everybody to understand that.’
The warriors set to work, and the ladies and the young men attending them renewed their festivities, although their hilarity was even more forced now.
Sparhawk and Kalten were re-enforcing the breastworks atop the hill. Since his wife and daughter were going to be inside those fortifications, their strength was a matter of more than passing interest to the prince consort.
The party under the pavilion had begun to show gaps, and Stragen was increasingly obliged to fill them with his lute.
‘He’s going to wear out his fingers,’ Kalten grunted, lifting another large rock into place.
‘Stragen enjoys attention,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘He’ll keep playing until the blood runs out from under his fingernails if there’s anybody around to listen.’
Stragen’s lute took up a very old air, and he began to sing again. Sparhawk didn’t really have much of an ear for music, but he had to admit that the Thalesian thief had a beautiful voice.
And then Baroness Melidere joined in. Her voice was a rich contralto that blended smoothly with Stragen’s baritone. Their duet was perfectly balanced, smooth and rich with the dark tones of their deeper voices. Sparhawk smiled to himself. The baroness was continuing her campaign. Once Aphrael had alerted him to the blonde girl’s designs on Stragen, Sparhawk could see dozens of artful little ploys she was using to keep her intended victim’s attention. He almost felt sorry for Stragen, but he concluded that Melidere would be good for him. The pair concluded their duet to loud applause. Sparhawk glanced toward the pavilion and saw Melidere lay one lingering hand almost caressingly on Stragen’s wrist. Sparhawk knew just how potent those accidental-seeming contacts were. Lillas had explained it to him once, and Lillas had been the world’s champion seductress – as probably half the men in Jiroch could have sworn to.
Then Stragen turned to another traditional air, and a new voice lifted in song. Kalten dropped the rock he had been lifting. It fell onto his foot, but he did not even wince. The voice was that of an angel, high, sweet, and as clear as glass. It soared effortlessly toward the upper reaches of the soprano range. It was a lyric voice, uncontaminated by the subtle variations of the coloratura, and it seemed as untaught as bird-song.
It was Ehlana’s maid, Alean. The doe-eyed girl, always so quiet and unassuming, stood in the centre of the Pavilion, her face luminous as she sang.
Sparhawk heard Kalten snuffle, and he was astonished to see great tears streaming down his friend’s face as the blond Pandion wept unashamed.
Perhaps his recent conversation with the Child Goddess had alerted Sparhawk to the potentials of intuition, and he suddenly knew, without knowing exactly how he knew, that two campaigns were in progress – and, moreover, that the one being waged by Baroness Melidere was the more overt and blatant. He carefully concealed a smile behind his hand.
‘Lord, that girl’s got a beautiful voice!’ Kalten said in stunned admiration as Alean concluded her song. ‘God!’ he said then, doubling over to clutch at the foot he had unwittingly injured five minutes earlier.
The work progressed until sunset, and then the combined army pulled back behind the reinforced palisade and waited. Sir Bevier and his Cyrinic Knights retired to the hilltop, where they completed the construction of their catapults. Then they amused themselves by lobbing large rocks into the forest seemingly at random.
‘What are they shooting at, Sparhawk?’ Ehlana asked after supper.
‘The trees,’ he shrugged.
‘The trees aren’t threatening us.’
‘No, but there are probably people hiding among them. The boulders falling out of the sky should make them a little jumpy.’ He smiled. ‘Actually, Bevier’s men are testing the range of the engines, dear. If our friends in the forest decide to attack down those avenues we’ve provided for them, Bevier wants to know exactly when to start shooting.’
There’s a great deal more involved in being a soldier than just keeping your equipment clean, isn’t there?’
‘I’m glad you appreciate that, my Queen.’
‘Shall we go to bed then?’
‘Sorry, Ehlana,’ he replied, ‘but I won’t be sleeping tonight. If our friend out there makes up his mind and attacks, there are some things I’ll have to do rather quickly.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Danae?’
‘She and Talen are over there watching Bevier’s people throw rocks at the trees.’
‘I’ll go get her. You’ll probably want to keep her close to you tonight.’ He crossed the basin to where Bevier was directing the activities of his knights. ‘Bed-time,’ he told his daughter, lifting her into his arms.
She pouted a little at that, but raised no other objections. When Sparhawk was about half-way back to his wife’s tent, he slowed. ‘How much of a stickler are you for formality, Aphrael?’ he asked.
‘A few genuflections are nice, father,’ she replied, ‘but I can live without them – in an emergency.’
‘Good. If the attack comes tonight, we’re going to need some light to see them by.’
‘How much light?’
‘Sort of noonish would be good.’
‘I can’t do that, Sparhawk. Do you have any idea of how much trouble I’d get into if I made the sun rise when it wasn’t supposed to?’
‘I wasn’t really suggesting that. I just want enough light so that people can’t sneak up on us through the shadows. The spell’s a fairly long one with a lot of formalities involved and many, many specifics. I may be a little pressed for time, so would you be terribly offended if I just asked you for light and left the details up to you?’
‘It’s highly irregular, Sparhawk,’ she chided him primly.
I know, but just this once maybe?’
‘Oh, I guess so, but let’s not make a habit of it. I do have a reputation to maintain, after all.’
‘I love you,’ he laughed.
‘Oh, if that’s the case, it’s perfectly all right then. We can bend all sorts of rules for people who really love us. Just ask for light, Sparhawk. I’ll see to it that you get lots and lots of light.’
The attack came shortly before midnight. It began with a rain of arrows lofting in out of the darkness, followed quickly by attacks on the Atan pickets. That last proved to be what might best be described as a tactical blunder. The Atans were the finest foot-soldiers in the world, and they welcomed hand-to-hand combat.
Sparhawk could not clearly see the attacking force from his vantage-point on the hilltop, but he firmly controlled his curiosity and held off on illuminating the battlefield until such time as the opposing force was more fully engaged. As they had anticipated, their enemies used the cover of these first probing moves to attack the log-jams designed to impede their progress through the belts of trees set off by Sir Ulath’s avenues radiating out from the base of the hill like the spokes of a huge wheel. As it turned out, Bevier’s Cyrinics had not been lobbing rocks out into the forest entirely for the fun of it. They had rather precisely pin-pointed the range of those jumbles of fallen trees with their catapults, and they hurled basketfuls of fist-sized rocks into the air to rain down on the men attempting to tear down the barricades or to widen the narrow gaps which had been deliberately left to permit the Peloi to ride out in search of entertainment. A two-pound rock falling out of the sky will not crush a man, but it will break his bones, and after ten minutes or so, the men out in the woods withdrew.
‘I confess it to you, Sparhawk-Knight,’ Engessa said gravely, ‘I had thought your elaborate preparations a bit silly. Atans do not fight so. Your approach does have certain advantages, though.’
‘Our societies are different, Atan Engessa. Your people live and fight in the wilderness where enemies are encountered singly or in small groups. Our wilderness has been tamed, so our enemies come at us in large numbers. We build forts to live in, and over the centuries we’ve devised many means to defend those forts.’
‘When will you make the light come?’
‘At a time when it’s most inconvenient for our enemy. I want him to commit a large part of his force and to have them fully engaged before I sweep away the darkness. He won’t expect that, and it takes time to get orders through to men who are already fighting. We should be able to eliminate a sizeable part of his army before he can pull them back. Defensive warfare has certain advantages if you make the proper preparations.’
‘Ulath-Knight does not like it.’
‘Ulath doesn’t have the patience for it. Bevier’s the expert on defence. He’d be perfectly willing to wait for ten years if need be for the enemy to come to him on his terms.’
‘What will the enemy do next? We Atans are not accustomed to interrupted fights.’
‘He’ll draw back and shoot arrows at us while he thinks things over. Then he’ll probably try a direct assault down one of those avenues.’
‘Why only one? Why not attack from all directions at once?’
‘Because he doesn’t know how much we can hurt him yet. He’ll have to find that out first. He’ll learn in time, but it’s going to cost him a great deal to get his education. After we’ve killed about half of his soldiers, he’ll do one of two things. He’ll either go away, or he’ll throw everything he’s got at us from all sides at once.’
‘And then?’
‘Then we’ll kill the rest of his soldiers and be on our way,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Assuming that everything goes the way we’ve planned, of course.’
At two hundred paces and with only starlight to see by, the figures were hardly more than shadows. They marched out into the centre of one of Ulath’s corridors and halted while others filed out to join them and to form up into a kind of massed formation.
‘I can’t believe that!’ Kalten exclaimed, gaping at the shadowy soldiers at the end of the corridor.
‘Is something wrong, Sir Kalten?’ Emban’s voice was a little shrill.
‘Not in the least, your Grace,’ Kalten replied gaily. ‘It’s just that we’re dealing with an idiot.’ He turned his head slightly. ‘Bevier,’ he called, ‘he’s forming up his troops on the road to march them into place.’
‘You’re not serious!’
‘May all of my toenails fall out if I’m not.’
Bevier barked a number of commands, and his knights swung the catapults around to bring them to bear on the unseen avenue leading toward the road. ‘Give the word, Sparhawk,’ the young Cyrinic called.
‘We’re going on down now,’ Sparhawk called back. ‘You can start as soon as we reach the bottom. We’ll wait so that you can pound them for a while, and then we’ll charge. We’d take it as a kindness if you’d stop about then.’
Bevier grinned at him.
‘Look after my wife while I’m gone.’
‘Naturally.’
Sparhawk and the other warriors began to climb down the hill. ‘I’ll break my men into two groups, friend Sparhawk,’ Kring said. ‘We’ll circle around and come up onto the road about a half mile behind them on either side. We’ll wait for your signal there.’
‘Don’t kill all of them.’ Engessa cautioned. ‘My Atans grow sulky if there’s fighting and they aren’t allowed to participate.’
They reached the bottom of the hill, and Bevier’s catapults began to thud, launching large rocks this time. There were sounds from off in the direction of the road indicating that the Cyrinic Knights had found the proper range.
‘Luck, Sparhawk,’ Kring said tersely and melted off into the shadows.
‘Be careful, Sir Knights,’ Khalad cautioned them. ‘Those tree-stumps out there are dangerous in the dark.’
‘It won’t be dark when we charge, Khalad,’ Sparhawk assured him. ‘I’ve made some arrangements.’
Engessa slipped quietly through an opening in the palisade to join his warriors out in the forest.
‘Is it just my imagination, or does it seem to the rest of you that we’re dealing with someone who’s not really very sophisticated?’ Tynian said. ‘He doesn’t seem to have any conception of modern warfare or modern technology.’
‘I think the word you’re groping for is “stupid”, Tynian,’ Kalten chuckled.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Tynian frowned. ‘It was too dark for me to make out very much from the hilltop, but it looked almost as if he were forming up his troops into a phalanx. Nobody’s done that in the west for over a thousand years.’
