Warrior King, page 25
“As they should be. Now, enough of this introspection. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“I’m here seeking your opinion on military matters.”
“Your plan is solid. What, in particular, is it you have doubts concerning?”
“Am I right to split the army into three?”
“Only time can determine if that was the best strategy, but I believe it will succeed. The enemy won’t be expecting an attack while it gathers troops, and though the plan relies on coordinating three divisions, it has the advantage of never having been tried before. Thus, the Cunars should have no effective counter to it.”
“Yes,” said Ludwig, “but can we reproduce the loss they suffered at the Battle of the Wilderness? As far as I’m aware, it’s the only time the Cunars have been defeated.”
“That’s a more difficult question to answer. The Therengians had Orcs screening their flanks, and a significant number of mages.”
“The Elves have mages.”
“So I’ve been informed,” said Charlaine, “although I cannot comment as to the effectiveness of the magic they wield. As for the last advantage, we have no great beasts to counter their Temple Knights.”
“True, but we have Temple Knights of our own, thanks to you.”
“While we did outfight the Cunars at Silver Vale, our later encounter proved less successful, resulting in the loss of almost two entire companies. Given the numbers we’ve heard concerning this new army of theirs, I would expect a similar result.”
“So you’re predicting disaster?”
“Not at all. As you’ve already indicated, the strategy here is to wear them down, rather than destroy them straight away. We are, in essence, running up to them, slapping them in the face, then riding away.”
“Do you think they’ll take the bait and pursue?”
“Anything’s possible, but I think it unlikely. For all their flaws, the Temple Knights of Saint Cunar are highly disciplined. An attack of this nature will, however, force them to maintain garrisons at the crossing points to avoid possible raids, thus reducing the number of men they can commit to a future campaign.”
“While we try to keep our own casualties at a minimum.”
“Agreed,” said Charlaine. “What can you tell me about the Elves, from a military point of view?”
“At the Battle of Eisen, they fielded some three hundred warriors.”
“Of what type?”
“They were split evenly between foot, horse, and bow. Speaking of bows, they proved quite deadly.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with them. We had some at the Battle of the Brinwald, along with their foot, and they were most effective.”
“How many men did you command?” asked Ludwig.
“Taking the Elves into consideration, close to sixteen hundred, of which three hundred and fifty were Temple Knights, which includes our brother knights of Saint Mathew, who held our northern flank when all seemed lost. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Cyn’s division would boost our numbers by a significant margin. Perhaps we’d be better off waiting until she arrives?”
“We haven’t the time,” replied Charlaine. “The cold weather is fast approaching, and the last thing we want is to be marching in the snow. We need to hit the enemy hard, then let winter force them to wait. With a little luck, their auxiliaries will abandon the effort, thereby lessening their numbers.”
“That only works if the Elves can destroy their stores.”
“You’re having doubts.”
“I am.”
“May I ask why? It’s a good strategy, and the warriors under your command have faith in you. What gives you pause?”
“I’ve seen my share of battles, but none with the stakes so high. If I mess this up, the entire kingdom will be crushed.”
“If we fail, Hadenfeld will endure, just not under your stewardship.”
“True, but you and I both know the stakes here. A weakened Hadenfeld is an invitation for the Halvarian Empire to invade, and next time it won’t be a border kingdom, not with the Holy Army under their control.”
“It sounds so strange,” said Charlaine, “hearing it out loud like that.”
“But it’s true.”
“Yes, unfortunately, it is. To that end, we must preserve what forces we can to meet the inevitable reach of Halvaria.”
“Any idea when that might be?”
“We know the empire learns from its mistakes. We defeated them in Arnsfeld, but I imagine it took some time for the details to reach the Halvarian capital. If they’re anything like the fighting orders, they’d scrape together every report they could find and analyze them in great detail to prevent a recurrence.”
“And to what do you ascribe your victory over them?” asked Ludwig.
“We were able to lure a portion of their forces away by manning a keep that ran alongside the road to the capital, forcing them to deploy an entire cohort to siege it. A good thing, too, for had they been at the Brinwald, we would surely have lost.”
“We have no keep near the border.”
“True,” countered Charlaine, “but if this raid works, it will have the same effect on the Cunars, drawing numbers away from their offensive. We must acknowledge we are already fighting the empire; they’ve simply cloaked their true identity in the raiments of the Church.”
“And how long do you suppose it’ll be before their legions cross back into the Petty Kingdoms?”
“Two years, perhaps three?”
“That soon?”
“Soon?” she replied. “The Brinwald was four years ago; the legions of Halvaria will be eager to avenge their defeat. Have you any idea of how many warriors make up a legion?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
“At full strength, they number twenty-four hundred, divided into four cohorts of six hundred, each a balance of horse, foot, and bow. In the past, the empire typically unleashed a single legion to conquer an enemy, but I fear those days have come to an end.”
“Why is that?” asked Ludwig.
“In a word, reputation. Although once considered unbeatable, their superiority has now been brought into question. They’ll be eager to re-establish themselves as the legendary warriors who’ve conquered more realms than any other kingdom in the history of the Continent. If I were them, I’d throw everything I had at the Petty Kingdoms.”
“Everything, being?”
“Multiple legions, two or three at least, perhaps even more.”
“Let’s hope your prophecy proves false,” said Ludwig, “but you make a compelling argument. If they attack again, I think we’re agreed they won’t settle for a border kingdom; they’ll come after all of us.”
“The sheer scale of such an endeavour staggers the mind,” said Charlaine. “You’re well-versed in the politics of the Petty Kingdoms: how many men could they assemble against such an invasion?”
“Were it only a matter of numbers, more than enough, but uniting the kingdoms would prove an impossible task. Each ruler would insist on commanding their own troops, and then who’d oversee the battles? Tell me this, did any neighbouring realm send aid to Arnsfeld when the need arose?”
“No. None at all.”
“I suspect the same will happen when that final invasion comes. The empire will pick off the Petty Kingdoms one by one, thanks to petty jealousies and indifference to the fates of our neighbours. The only realm with a sizable army these days is Erlingen, and they’d be hard-pressed to fight off a single legion, let alone two.”
“There is hope,” said Charlaine. “We must have faith that other kingdoms will unite under the banner of self-preservation.”
“A fine dream,” said Ludwig, “but it would take an extraordinary individual to bring together traditional enemies, even to save their lands.”
“Then we must set an example. Hadenfeld used to field a powerful army. If I recall my training, before Otto’s time, we were considered the strongest army in all the Petty Kingdoms.”
“Sadly, that’s no longer true. Oh, the men we have are fine soldiers, but we can’t raise the numbers we used to. Two civil wars saw to that.”
“Then we need to develop superior tactics.”
“And how, precisely, do we do that?”
“By learning as we go. At the Brinwald, there was little finesse to their attack. They held their cavalry in reserve and sent a mass of men towards our line in an attempt to overwhelm us.”
“Do you think the Cunars will use the same strategy now that they’re under the empire’s thumb?”
“I doubt it. For all their bravado, the Holy Army is at the mercy of their auxiliaries. Cavalry often proves the decisive edge in battle, but without foot and bow, they’ll do a poor job of holding conquered lands. I assume your foot employs spears?”
“Most do,” replied Ludwig. “Why?”
“I had a lot of time to read when I was at the Antonine. Amongst the books I digested was a recent translation of The Campaigns of Aeldred.”
“He was the Therengian who defeated the Thalamites.”
“He did, even though his men fought on foot. Do you know why?”
“No, but I’ve a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“He taught them to use a formation known as the fist of spears. The warriors formed a rough circle with their spears pointed outward and the butts of their weapons planted firmly in the ground. It is written that horses feared the formation and refused to close the distance.”
“An excellent idea,” said Ludwig. “Please excuse me. I must ride to Sigwulf and instruct his men to practice that tactic!”
25
The March North
Autumn 1107 SR
The column stretched on as far as the eye could see, with Ludwig and Sigwulf leading, both staring north towards Zwieken. Their cavalry had already scouted the area, reporting nothing of note across the river, yet they still sent men up and downstream to ensure it remained safe.
“I sense no sign of a trap,” said Sigwulf. “At this rate, the entire division will be across before nightfall.”
“You’ve talked to the men regarding Seiburg?”
“Yes. They’re to treat the villagers with proper respect, or we’ll risk Konrad’s army breathing down our necks.”
“And if they encounter soldiers from Zowenbruch?”
“Then they are to notify us immediately, although I must admit I don’t know why.”
“It falls on our shoulders to convince them to stand aside.”
Sigwulf stared at him. “You really believe they’ll stand down?”
“Given the likely disparity in numbers, I think they’ll do just that. Unless you feel a small village garrison would be willing to fight hundreds of men?”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
A rider approached from the north, and Ludwig recognized him as he drew closer.
“Sire,” Captain Gustavo called out. “Our scouts are standing by at the bridge.”
“Dare I ask why they’ve yet to cross?”
“There are men standing guard on the other side.” The captain drew closer, then turned round to ride beside his king. “No more than a dozen, but they appear intent on preventing a crossing.”
Sigwulf chuckled. “It appears the men of Zowenbruch have some guts after all.”
Ludwig spurred on his horse. “Come along, Captain. You and I need to have a little chat with these folks.”
Gustavo, briefly surprised by the sudden increase in speed, soon caught up. “Are you certain that’s wise, Majesty? One arrow and you could be killed.”
“Were there archers at the bridge?”
“No, not that I could see.”
“Then it appears the danger isn’t as great as you fear.”
“Couldn’t you send them a message instead?”
“I could,” replied Ludwig, “but what kind of a king would I be if I placed every burden on the shoulders of someone else?”
“Even at the risk of personal injury?”
“Would I not be risking the same for someone I sent in my place?”
“I suppose so.”
“Now, come along. I’m curious to learn who’s leading this contingent.”
They rode into Zwieken, passing by a tavern where people had gathered to watch the proceedings. The bridge was visible from their vantage point, as were the men on the other side. They’d cobbled together a makeshift barricade, consisting of barrels and crates, behind which they held their position. One individual amongst them stood out, as he wore mail, along with a kettle helm that did nothing to hide his thick, bushy moustache.
Ludwig dismounted, handing the reins to one of the scouts who secured his side of the border. Gustavo followed his example, and then both stepped onto the bridge.
“Stop right there!” came the command.
“I am Ludwig Altenburg, King of Hadenfeld,” he announced. “I seek to parley. Who’s in charge here?”
“I am,” the moustached man replied. “The name’s Eimar.”
“We mean you no harm.”
“Yet you come with armed men.”
“My quarrel is not with the people of Zowenbruch,” said Ludwig. “It is with those who would oppress my people.”
“I have no quarrel with you, either, Majesty, but I will do my duty and protect this village from the ravages of war.”
“If that’s true, then you’d best stand aside. Behind me march hundreds of warriors, but I would prefer not to loose them on the poor people of Seiburg.”
“So you expect me to stand aside and let you march past to attack the capital?”
“We are not marching to Kurslingen—we’re marching to the Holy Army gathering at Esthafen.”
“How do I know this isn’t a ruse to get us to abandon our post?”
Ludwig stepped closer, keeping his hands well away from his sword. “If you think I’m a threat to the realm you hold so dear, then strike me down.”
Eimar pushed aside a barrel and stepped out, drawing his sword. Ludwig remained calm as the man advanced, the tip of his weapon held out in front of him, finally coming to rest on Ludwig’s breastplate.
“I could kill you in an instant,” the soldier proclaimed.
“Then why don’t you?”
Eimar lowered his sword. “I consider myself devout, but these days, the Church is preaching nothing but hatred. Were I in your shoes, I suppose I might do the same thing.” He leaned to one side, peering behind Ludwig. “Hundreds of men, you say? You’ll need a lot more than that if you aim to take on those Temple Knights.”
“You’re not the first one to tell me that, and I doubt you’ll be the last, but I shall take my chances.”
“Why?”
“Why?” replied Ludwig. “Because I have no choice. Were your kingdom threatened by the Church, would you sit back and wait for the invasion, or do all in your power to destroy their ability to wage war?”
Eimar nodded. “I’ll let you pass, Majesty, but only if you promise me you’ll spare Seiburg.”
“I give you my word.”
“Move aside, lads,” the man bellowed. “His Royal Majesty has chosen not to fight today.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
“I’m no sergeant.”
“Truly?” said Ludwig. “You had the courage to stand up to a king. Were you in my army, I’d insist you be promoted. I shall remember you, Master Eimar, and wish you well.”
The warrior bowed his head. “You honour me, sire. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to removing the barricade.” He returned to his post, berating his men for not moving fast enough.
“That was neatly done,” said Gustavo. “For a moment there, I feared he might actually kill you.”
“He values the people of this village too much to risk a reprisal.”
“You only spoke to him for but a moment.”
“What can I say? I’m a good judge of character.” Ludwig returned to Hadenfeld’s side of the bridge. “I have a job for you. I’m going to give you some coins to spend at whatever passes for the local tavern. Buy some rounds, assure the folks here that we mean them no harm, but above all, ensure our people behave. The last thing we need is ill will behind us as we march towards the Cunars.”
“Understood, sire.”
* * *
The border crossing continued throughout the day. Under any other circumstances, it would’ve taken no time at all to cross six hundred fifty men, but the bridge was in disrepair, and Ludwig didn’t want to risk damaging it further. Instead, he sent them across in small groups, no more than twenty at a time, interspersed with the supply wagons. Ludwig watched it all from the Seiburg side of the river.
Sigwulf crossed at midday, riding over to assume a position beside his king. “That bridge is a death trap.”
“I agree,” replied Ludwig. “Perhaps, when this war is over, we can convince King Konrad to allow us to make repairs?”
“Repairs? The wood is so rotten, you’d need a whole new bridge.”
“Then I shall make that a priority once we’ve given the Holy Army a good thrashing.” Ludwig went silent.
Sigwulf shifted in his saddle. “Something wrong?”
“How deep would you say the water is here?”
“Deep enough to require a bridge. Why? Surely you’re not suggesting we use boats to cross?”
“No, but it occurs to me that the weight of heavily armoured Temple Knights might prove a bit too much for that bridge, particularly if we took pains to weaken it further.”
“We still need it to retreat,” said Sigwulf.
“I wasn’t suggesting we do it right now, merely that we have someone take a look and determine if it’s even possible. The next time we pass through here, we’ll be heading home, possibly with an army in pursuit. If that comes to pass, we’ll have little time for such considerations.”
“A clever idea, but who do we have with knowledge of such things?”
“Ask around,” said Ludwig. “You might be surprised. These men must’ve done something before they became soldiers.”
“Not necessarily; ever heard of a career soldier?”
