— 8 —
The Star Lord Nelson rose before the True Sun was up, checked his star weapons, and walked into the center of his camp.
Critos was already there. The fire was well tended, and what meager fresh game the band had, already turned on a spit. A crew of haggard-looking, filthy women in rags and furs argued over the division of the food.
"Good morning, my lord!" Critos called.
"Critos," Nelson said, nodding in acknowledgment.
Then the meaning of what he had done hit Nelson, all at once. By Yatar and Christ! I must have been mad, he thought. These people need everything at once: food, shelter, clothing, training in basic hygiene, discipline, military training, religious guidance, a set of rules to live by, a goal to strive for. And they need it now. What in the hell am I going to do? I'm just a soldier. A soldier with a B.S. degree, true, but a soldier nonetheless. I'm not even an officer, for Yatar's sake!
And those are just the immediate problems. In the long run, what am I really going to do with these people? Nine men, two of them literate. Hardly an "army" to take south with me. Actually, more of a liability. How will I ever get any of the cities of the City States or the Sunlands to hire me when they learn some of my retainers are runaway slaves?
The squawling of a baby greeted the rising of the True Sun. The infant's cries were soon joined by the sobs of older children. Nelson glanced around the camp. Most of the children huddled in the lean-tos, looking scared and keeping silent. Where? . . .
There, away from the camp in the open woods. Four women were trying to comfort a cluster of crying children. Obviously they'd slept in the open all night without furs or blankets of any kind. And why weren't those women with the others, dividing up the food?
"Critos?"
"My lord?"
"Those women in the woods. Why don't they come and get food for themselves and their children?" Nelson didn't bother to ask why the hags at the fire haggled only over the scraps and droppings from the roasted meat: the choice pieces were left for the men.
"They are outcast, my lord."
"Why so?"
"Their men are dead. These are the women of the men who were slain in yesterday's . . . uh, they are the women of our recently fallen comrades." Critos turned his head in fear and embarrassment.
"Call in the sentries. Assemble all the men in the center of the camp in half an hour. Have those outcast women brought over here, now. See that all the food presently cooking is divided in equal portions, with a half portion for each child. Are there enough lean-tos for each woman and her children to have one to themselves?"
"Yes, my lord, but—"
"See that the lean-tos are so distributed. And don't worry, whatever the men say. I have reasons for my orders, and my orders are not to be questioned." Nelson turned on his heel and walked back to his own lean-to.
"Yes, my lord," he heard Critos reply, puzzlement in his voice.
These people have a long way to go. And I can't even be myself with them, Nelson thought. I have to be the Star Lord Nelson, who speaks to command, seldom to commiserate. I can never, never let them see me hesitant, doubting, troubled. Oh well. Guess I'm an officer now.
It took a ten-day to get them ready to reflect the form of society they might encounter in a small village. Critos, of course, was no problem; he had once had the manners of a man born to a middle station in life in a city republic. And the Roman runaway slave, Gaius Alba, proved trustworthy. At least the two of them could get some idea of what Nelson was trying to do.
The other men were a different matter. They didn't question Nelson's courage; they'd seen him fight. But they did question everything else, even if they didn't do it out loud after the first day.
Everything was a problem. The first day he needed two men to go to a village and procure food—the roads were too dangerous to send only one man, and even sending two was risky. He couldn't spare both Critos and Gaius, and he couldn't trust any of the others not to just take the food money, and join up with one of the countless other outlaw bands that infested the area. He finally sent Gaius and Doron. Doron's good behavior was secured by the fact that the brute could not believe the Star Lord Nelson would not be sneaking along behind him, watching him from a distance, ready to strike him down with his star weapons.
Sanitation was another problem. Nelson thanked all the gods of Earth and Tran more than once for the fact he still had his good old U.S. Army shovel. Teaching the men to dig latrines was a problem with only one shovel, but he managed. Teaching them why they should bother was another problem altogether.
Better shelter would have to wait for a short while, Nelson decided. In the meantime, he provided money for one new garment for every man, woman, and child, and additional large furs that could double as blankets and outer garment wrappings.
Weapons, too, were a problem. They had a collection of light bows, but their range was very short and their force puny; the arrows wouldn't penetrate good armor. They had only three swords and, of course, the flail. There were a few maces. Knives they had in abundance.
Nelson couldn't very well send them to buy weapons; that was something he'd have to do himself. And in the first days, he didn't dare leave the camp: there was always something demanding his attention, and without his personal presence the men would quickly revert to their old habits.
They were learning one new habit, though. They were learning obedience. It had been very, very rough that first day. Teaching them to march four abreast in two ranks with himself on one side and Critos on the other had taken more patience than Nelson thought he had. Of course, the men could see no reason at all for it. They were vicious, dirty fighters one-on-one, but the concept of any organized action other than an ambush, which quickly led to dirty one on one fighting, was beyond their comprehension. Nelson didn't know if the drill would be useful or not when it came to a fight, but it did teach them obedience.
In that first ten-day Star Lord Nelson also learned that to be an officer is to be a judge. At first there was constant bickering over who had stolen what from whom—not that anything they had was really worth stealing. Naturally, the concepts of property and honor meant little to men who had lived as bandits most of their adult lives. The problem vexed Nelson endlessly until he finally caught one man stealing red-handed.
The stern star lord had the man hung from a tree branch by his wrists and beaten within an inch of his life. He promulgated the law of the army: he who steals, dies. In this first case, he told them, he was granting mercy, because the man did not know the law. Then, in another firelight ceremony, he accepted the offender back into his service, formally "restored" the man's "honor," and ordered that the incident not be mentioned again.
Finally, he cleaned them up. Knives could be used to cut hair as well as throats, he told them. And for two days the men who labored to make the large wooden tub had no idea what its use was to be. Little did they dream until the morning of that third day that it would be filled with heated water in which they were expected to immerse themselves!
The reaction to bathing in warmed water was such that Nelson decided not to teach the men about cleaning wounds with boiling water. He did instruct Critos and Gaius in the technique, but with instructions not to use it until after their first fight.
The next problem Nelson faced was where to take this little band. There were, of course, many small villages in the lands of the City States, but each was claimed and ruled by one of those states. Someone would certainly recognize one or more of his men, and he doubted the governments would welcome them, given their background. Still, they couldn't spend the rest of the winter here in the woods. He didn't have enough money to support them forever, and he didn't want to turn them loose to rob; that would destroy the discipline he was instilling.
Finally, he decided to approach the priesthood of Yatar. He knew from experience in the North that the priests were well organized and respected by the secular powers. If his little band could get protection from the priesthood . . .
It took him three days away from the camp, a lot of talking, and most of the rest of his gold, but he finally secured pardons and the right to build additional structures by a small village. He also secured a promise of protection, but it was understood that this meant protection from the governing City State's own troops and nothing more. The gold was given as a donation to the Priests of Yatar to be used to fill the "caves" in preparation for the "Time."
Critos knocked smartly on the door of the Star Lord Nelson's wood hut. "My lord," he called, "a matter of some urgency requires your attention."
Nelson sighed. In the two ten-days it had taken to move to the village, secure a food supply, and build some crude log huts, there had been a never-ending series of matters of urgency.
"Enter," Nelson grumbled.
"My lord, there are people here who would join with us."
"What people, how many, what skills, and why?"
"They are bandits, my lord. There are thirty men, plus their women and children. Their skills are varied, but mainly murder. They have heard of our . . . new way, and wish to join with us."
Nelson stared at Critos, thunderstruck. Thirty men! That meant at least ninety more, all told, counting women and children. How can I possibly feed and shelter that many? he wondered. The gold's almost gone, and the city would never give permission for such a build-up of criminals near one of its villages. . . .
"Do they have any gold? Any money?"
"None, my lord."
"How have they heard of us?"
"I fear word has spread through the forests and the hills of the great changes wrought by the Star Lord Nelson in the band of Critos."
"Then there will be more coming to join us."
"Perhaps," Critos replied, grinning.
"Critos, if I thought you were behind this—"
Critos burst out laughing. "No, my lord. I am not. But it appears your mercy and generosity will be sorely strained in the days to come. This is but the first trickle of a mighty stream."
"Great. Set Corporal Doron over the men to begin drilling them. See to the feeding of their women and children, and begin planning with Gaius how on earth, er, Tran, we can shelter them. Explain the oath to them too."
"The Councilors of Kleistinos will now receive the Star Lord Nelson," the page announced formally.
Nelson stood, checked to be sure his uniform was unwrinkled, and swaggered through the large double wooden doors into the council hall. Three men in tunics of white with gold trim and cloaks of deep blue sat at one end of a long table. Behind them stood the Captain General of Kleistinos. The general wore his best armor for the occasion: a gleaming breast plate emblazoned with the golden ram of Kleistinos, a tall helmet sprouting blue and red plumes, and a ceremonial short sword with a gem-encrusted hilt.
The man at the head of the table stood when Nelson entered. "Star Lord Nelson. I am Meletos, Headman of the Council of Kleistinos. I pray you be seated. Will you take refreshment?"
The only chair not taken was one at the far end of the table from the other men, a good ten feet away from Meletos.
Nelson nodded sharply at Meletos. "I am the Star Lord Nelson. It is my pleasure to be your guest. Thank you for your offer of refreshment, but it would be best for us to share wine together after we have reached agreement on the issues which bring us together." Nelson pulled out the chair, but refused to sit until Meletos did. A little research into local customs had taught him that in a formal meeting, the one who sat last was considered the most important. He timed it so he sat down at the same instant as the Headman of the Council.
"Captain General Aggamon would put some questions to you on behalf of the Council," Meletos said.
Aggamon stepped forward, but before he could speak Nelson interrupted.
"If the Council has questions to ask the Star Lord Paul Nelson, let the Council put its questions. I have come to negotiate as a friend, not to be interrogated as an enemy or a prisoner."
Aggamon's thin face flushed with anger. His blue eyes blazed and his mouth twisted in an angry sneer. Meletos stared back at Nelson, not certain what to say. The two other Council members turned in their seats uncomfortably. Nelson knew he was gambling, running a bluff. But it's like Dad always said, he thought: If you're going to run a bluff, run it all the way until it's called.
"Friend Star Lord," Meletos replied after a lengthy silence, his voice smooth and mellow. "It has come to the attention of the Council that your settlement near our village of . . . ah, yes, our village of Piris, has, let us say, grown."
"It has, Headman. We take just pride in our accomplishment of feeding and sheltering those impoverished subjects who come to us. I accept the Council's thanks for providing law, order, food and shelter among so many who would otherwise roam Kleistinos' lands in wretched poverty and, let us be frank, lawlessness."
"Yes. Let us be frank, then. The Council does not recognize most of these impoverished as citizens and does not see why the Republic of Kleistinos should assume responsibility for their welfare."
"I have assumed responsibility for their welfare. The Republic of Kleistinos has graciously and wisely granted us use of a small parcel of land, a parcel worthless for any other purpose. No doubt the Council has perceived how Yatar has blessed the Republic as a sign of his approval of this generosity."
"Enough!" Aggamon snapped. "Star Lord, you have upwards of five hundred men on our territory, training in arms and supported by the credit of our merchants, which is granted out of fear. We demand to know your intentions. More to the point, we demand that you take this rabble and leave!"
"Captain General!" Meletos cautioned. "There is no need for such hostile language."
Nelson noticed the mildness of the rebuke. Aggamon spoke for the Council, no doubt of that.
"To leave is exactly what I intend."
The four men stared at Nelson, dumbstruck.
"However, I will need your assistance to do so."
"What manner of assistance?" Meletos finally asked.
"As your Captain General has noted, I can no longer support this group of people from my own resources. Nor can I abandon them. I am honor bound, by the most sacred oaths, to see to their care. Therefore, I will require an extension of credit for two ten-days' supply of grain, wine, and livestock for meat, six hundred horses, two hundred mules, and, oh yes, certain weapons that are to be made by your artisans, immediately, according to my design."
"Treachery and blackmail!" Aggamon exploded. "Let me cut him down now!" Aggamon's hand reached for his sword as he rushed forward. Nelson slipped his hand to his holster and loosened the Colt.
"Captain General! The Council gave most solemn assurance of safe passage to the Star Lord Nelson for purposes of this parley," Meletos said sharply.
Aggamon stopped, his hand trembling as it clutched his sword hilt.
"Star Lord Nelson," Meletos continued, "you do this Republic and its Council great dishonor to suppose we would submit to such blackmail from what is nothing more than a collection of bandits and murderers!" The old man was thundering now, his aged face turning red beneath his flowing salt-and-pepper mane. "You came to us for aid—quite cunningly, I might add—and you have abused our trust. Before I render the judgment of the Council, I give you one last chance to speak."
"I am surprised at your reaction. What I seek is no more than just recompense for the service I have already rendered this Republic. Are not the highways for miles around safe for travel? How many early spring caravans have been attacked within the boundaries of the Republic? How much revenue to the Republic, not to mention profit to her merchants, has been saved?
"Nor is this blackmail. What I ask would be a just reward for services I have already rendered you, but I do not even ask it as payment. I ask it as a loan, to be secured by the word of a star lord sworn before Yatar, Vothan, Hestia, and Christ. And in return for this loan, you are rid of these people, whom you do not want. Your highways are secured, and your profits fattened.
"Further, the amount is not that great. Have you not already agreed to pay the Star Lord Gengrich much more simply to guard one caravan headed south this spring?"
Meletos flinched, then smiled in appreciation of Nelson's thorough intelligence. No doubt these star lords are all in communication with one another, perhaps alliance, the old man thought. Even though they appeared to war . . .
"As for you, Captain General Aggamon," Nelson continued, "I fully understand your feelings. But there is no dishonor in what I ask. Your troops will be much better spent serving the Republic on the battlefield than dying trying to slaughter the poor, when the poor are backed by star weapons."
They marched the first day of spring. The Star Lord Nelson's host consisted of five hundred fighting men, with another 1500 women, children, and hangers-on. Their horses and pack mules were heavily laden with food, weapons, and the portable wooden catapults the star lord designed. The mass was well organized: fifty horse bowmen formed the advance guard, with one hundred pikemen behind them. Then came the pack animals, followed by the women and children, and finally the rest of the pikemen, archers, and cavalry in the rear.
"My lord, the army is assembled as you ordered."
Nelson looked at the teeming mass waiting, well-ordered, behind him. He couldn't suppress a smile at his accomplishment over the winter. Now I have an army to hire out, Nelson thought. I'm back in the soldiering business.
"Well done, Critos. We march on my order."
"Yes, lord. But, lord . . ."
"What is it, Critos?"
"My lord knows that Karinth has rejected your proposal to hire ourselves to their city."
"Yes."
"Then where do we march?"
"To Karinth, of course!"
No doubt word has spread of the Star Lord Nelson and his bandit army, Nelson thought. Given the treacherous politics of the City States and the Sunlands, many probably believe my force is actually in the pay of Kleistinos. Truth is, I'm damned glad and lucky to be gone from Kleistinos before Gengrich and company arrive. They'll certainly find out where I am, but I hope they'll be too busy to worry about me.
No surprise, though, that Karinth rejected my offer of merc service. They're still the best place to be. High enough up from the coast that they won't get flooded when that third star comes near. Have to show them, though. Have to show them we're an army, not just a bunch of rabble. My last message should draw them out. . . .
"My lord, my lord!"
"What is it, Critos? Enter, and report!"
Nelson rested in his tent while the army drilled and his officers attended to the myriad matters of the administration of his force. They had marched south for two ten-days, supplementing their rations by foraging and occasional forced purchases. Now they were waiting, although the army didn't know it, for an answer to Nelson's most recent communication with the Tyrant and Assembly of Karinth.
"My lord," Critos panted. "The Karinthians have sent an army after us."
"How many men, and where?"
"They marched yesterday! Our rider only now arrived with word from our spies. By now they are but a day's march from us."
Nelson had been certain his last insolent message would goad the proud Karinthians into a military response. Here it was. Now to find out if he'd overdone it.
"Send scouts—"
"Already done, my lord. Star Lord Nelson, do we fight them?"
"You bet. And if they have less than 4000 men, we'll beat them."
There were about 5000 of them, slightly more than Nelson had calculated there would be. The Karinthians were a proud people, but not overly militaristic, and terribly economy minded. They didn't usually field large forces. Nelson had expected a small force to deal with him, and he got one. It was just that the small force was a larger small force than he'd expected.
The star lord stood atop a small rise and viewed the enemy's deployment. "The opposing general, Hectris, knows his trade," Nelson remarked to Critos. "Rather than chasing after us, he's blocked the only decent road to Karinth at its narrowest point. No doubt he hopes to draw me into a foolhardy frontal attack."
The enemy's right, or east flank, rested on a bend in a broad river, near to flood stage from the spring rains and the melting of the snow in the western mountains. No way across that, Nelson noted. The enemy's left was secured by a large hill, on which he had posted slingers in skirmish order backed by swordsmen. Nelson didn't have enough troops to cover the center while mounting an uphill assault. Too bad, he thought. Cavalry with light troops . . . Oh well, no use wishing for the world.
The enemy's main body consisted of three pike blocks, or phalanxes, as the ancestors of the Karinthians would have called them. The enemy lacked large numbers, though, so his pikes were formed with more frontage than depth; each block was eighty men wide but only ten ranks deep. The three phalanxes sat in the center of the line, blocking the highway, with one forward and the two others echeloned on its flanks. The pikemen carried real pikes, eighteen-foot spears with iron tips. They were well-armored, too, and the front of each block had a solid shield wall. Not up to Macedonian standards, Nelson mused, but damned near impervious to frontal attack and to arcing archery fire: the men in the back ranks held their pikes extended from their shoulders, forming a sort of protective "roof" over the formation, while those in front planted theirs forward to ward off charging infantry or cavalry.
About eight hundred cavalry were massed on each side of the pikes. They were more lightly armored, and carried shorter, twelve-foot spears and swords. Interspersed between these larger formations were small bodies of foot archers, armed with a short bow. Behind all the enemy troops stood a rear line of three small troops of swordsmen. The entire front was screened by a skirmish line of slingers.
Certain that the enemy intended to give him time to deploy, Nelson pondered his options. The enemy's forces consist mainly of massed shock troops, the pikes, and the cavalry, he thought. Any advance by my forces could be countered easily by either the enemy cavalry or his pikes; after all, my entire army is only five hundred men!
The way to beat massed shock troops is with firepower. Unfortunately, one M‑16 won't do the trick, although the panic it'll cause might help. I'll have to break the pike blocks with the catapults. If the pikes break and run, the rest of his army will follow. Only his cavalry will be left, if they stand once the pikes are gone. They'll be vulnerable to archery fire and unable to break my own pikemen. I hope.
He ran a quick inventory of his own forces in his mind: two small troops of pike-armed infantry, 100 men each, 200 total; 100 light cavalry with only leather armor, twelve-foot spears, and shields; 150 archers, well-trained now, able to fire mounted or on foot.
Damn! No stakes—I didn't train them to use stakes, Nelson thought. Oh well, next campaign.
And the catapults. Designed for mobility, crewed by ten men each, capable of firing a twenty to forty pound stone out to a range of three hundred yards with reasonable accuracy.
The biggest problem of all is, I have to attack. The enemy can sit there for days; he can bring food out from the city. I have to win, and win fast, before my own food runs low and this "army" melts like snow in the sun. Or I have to goad Hectris into attacking me. . . .
Carefully, Nelson ordered his deployment.
Look at the two different deployments shown on the maps 1 and 2.
If Nelson chooses the deployment shown on Map 1, so to section 16.
If Nelson chooses the deployment shown on Map 2, go to section 17.