Madman's Army

Chapter VI

The cat-footed, silent servants presented basins of warm, sweet-scented water on which rose petals floated to each of Thoheeks Sitheeros’ guests as well as to their master himself, followed by soft, fluffy cotton towels. Others came in to take away the trays which held the foodstuffs, but when they made to bear away the dregs of the wine, the thoheeks spoke.

“Bring another decanter of that vintage. There’s still the end of a tale I’d hear.”

He turned, smiling, back to Captain-of-squadron Bralos and said, “Have you the time to indulge me, my boy?”

Bralos replied, “But … but I would’ve thought that, as a member of Council, you surely would’ve heard it all, long since, my lord.”

The thoheeks nodded. “Most assuredly, in several versions, too, but I’d hear yours as well, if I may.”

Bralos shrugged. “I am, of course, at my lord Thoheeks’ command.”

Thoheeks Sitheeros settled back in his chair, smiling. “Very well, now, how much rest was granted you after your whirlwind campaign in the foothills?”

Bralos laughed once, a harsh bark. “Three whole days, my lord, then orders came down through cavalry brigade headquarters that I and the other squadron captains should have our units ready for the road within two weeks. In the interim, all common soldiers were to be restricted to the environs of the camp, save only when on organized details without it. Lancers and light infantry were to regularly patrol the perimeter and enforce this promulgation to the extreme of bare steel, if necessary. Expressly forbidden to enter the camp precincts were women of any description or hawkers of wine, beer or cider, although this last was to not include any merchants or vintners supplying officers, of course.”

Upon announcement of this last enormity of senselessness, two of Bralos’ troop-lieutenants sought words with the captain upon behalf of married sergeants whose wives lived in the peripheries of the camp, and after hearing them out, Bralos called for a horse and rode over to Senior Captain Thoheeks Portos’ headquarters.

But seeing the brigade commander took much more waiting than was at all usual, and when at last he was ushered in and had stated his case, the harried-looking senior captain just shook his head, brusquely, and barked, “Dammit, Bralos, we have to do it because the Grand Strahteegos says we have to do it. If the old man truly considers you and yours to be mercenaries, however, you just might be able to get by with ignoring most of these insanities; Guhsz Hehluh intends to do just that and so, too, do all of the Horseclansmen, the artificiers and the eeahtrohsee, I understand.”

“And you, my lord Senior Captain Thoheeks?” asked Bralos. “Your heavy cavalry are as much on loan to this state and this army as are the units commanded by Captains Guhsz Hehluh and Pawl of Vawn, truth to be told. Have you the intention of submitting your officers and troopers to such injustices?”

Portos squirmed his body uneasily. “Let’s … let us just say that I intend to look out for the welfare of my subordinates wherever and whenever and in every conceivable way possible, Captain Vahrohnos Bralos, as always in times past has been my wont. Such is always a good practice for any officer of rank—from the very highest to the lowest—to follow, I might add. However, an astute officer, one who makes survival a habit, will recognize superior force and bow to it … if it all comes down to that. As in battle, if faced with impossible odds and with maneuver impossible or pointless, you have but two options, in reality: withdrawal or suicide.

“And now, my good Bralos, I have no more time for you, unless you have other, meaningful business to broach. Preparing both my own squadron and the brigade for the march would be more than enough to occupy all my waking hours, without this other exercise in stupidity, atop all else.”

Bralos formally saluted, turned about and departed. He understood, he understood fully. It was but another playing of the ancient military game: guard your arse and duck your head. He would just have to take to sending out the two married sergeants, the three other sergeants who maintained more or less formal “arrangements” with women and the lieutenant who had married the daughter of a merchant of the lower town as a “detail” each evening and having Keemohsahbis, the vintner, bring in his carts enough potables for the entire squadron; such was, he decided, the only sane course to follow in this lunatic war that the Grand Strahteegos seemingly had declared upon his own command. And this was just what he told Captain-of-squadron Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn when that worthy came riding over that night.

Sloshing the brandied wine about in his cup, the spare, wiry chief remarked, “You know, Bralos, I liked—I really liked—that old man on first meeting and for a long time since, but after all I’ve seen and heard since you and me and our men got back from this latest campaign up north, I’m beginning to wonder if the old bastard hasn’t traded in all of his brains for a peck of moldy owlshit or something.

“None of this latest shit, not one particle of it, makes any sense at all, you know. He’s halved the pay of them as are still getting paid, says it’s going to be saved against their retirements. He says, too, that all loot taken in the future has to go to the army—him, in other words—and that he’ll see any man as tries to hold out anything looted well striped the first time and hung the next time, no matter what his rank. He has offered an amnesty to any officer or common soldier who took loot and kept it for himself in the past if he now will turn what is left of the worth of that loot over to the Grand Strahteegos.”

Bralos felt a cold chill run the length of his spine, felt the hairs of his nape all aprickle. “Where did you get this information, Pawl?” he demanded.

The Horseclans chief shrugged. “Part of the shit that was laid down while we was gone, is all, Bralos. Sub-chief Myk, who led the rest of my squadron while we were gone up north, told me about it, and I hunted out the copy of the order from the pile; you’ve got a copy too, I’d guess, somewhere in your headquarters. You worried about that Yvuhz dagger you took off them bandits, man? Hell, damn few knows about it, anyway, so just pry out the stones, cover the gold hilt with soft leather and brass wire and forget about it, that’s what I’d do.”

“Fuck that dagger!” snarled Bralos. “Were that all of it, I’d give our overly acquisitive Grand Strahteegos that deadly little bauble in a trice and never again think about it.”

“Then what?” asked Chief Pawl, looking puzzled.

Bralos sighed. “Strictly speaking—and I’m dead certain that we had best expect everything to be interpreted in the strictest of terms by our commander in future—the windfall that has established my own fortune could be considered loot.”

“No such thing,” declared Paw! vehemently. “I wasn’t there, then, but I heard about it all from not a few as were. You were given the effects of that slimeball Hahkmukos as suffering-price and loss-price. When informed of how much more you’d found squirreled away in that campaign chest, I’ve been told, old Thoheeks Grahvos had him a good belly-laugh and said that it was a good thing to have such lucky officers in any army.”

“Even so,” said Bralos soberly, “I think that I had best consider that the Grand Strahteegos, who has seemed to resent my affluence ever since I managed to buy a squadron, and maybe even before that, has definite designs upon my gold and my lands. I think I had best seek audience with Sub-strahteegos Tomos. Maybe with Thoheeks Grahvos, too, for that matter. Have you the time to ride along with me, Pawl?”

After conferring with Bralos and hearing out all his worries and baleful presentiments, Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos sent a galloper with a sealed message tube into Mehseepolis, to the palace of Council. Bralos followed shortly with Chief Pawl, their two sets of personal guards and a heavy weight of golden Zenos.

Thoheeks Grahvos and Thoheeks Mahvros received the two cavalry officers warmly in Grahvos’ high-ceilinged, airy office, offering a fine wine to wash the dust from their throats and even sending orders that their guards be entertained in the quarters of the Council Guardsmen. Patiently, the two always-busy noblemen listened with clear concentration and patent interest to all that Bralos and Chief Pawl had to tell them. Then Thoheeks Grahvos spoke.

“Gentlemen, did I not know better, know just how much he has done for our Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee since first he came to us, I might think that Thoheeks Pahvlos has taken it into his head to truly destroy this army of ours, drive the best elements from its ranks, certainly, and possibly instigate full mutiny.

“First, that very disturbing report, the other day, from Thoheeks Portos, and now this—it’s all enough to give me more gray hairs at the very thought of what may very well be bubbling away in the minds of the men he’s abusing and denying the few simple pleasures that they have certainly earned by way of superlative service to Council’s army, many times over.

“As regards your good fortune, Captain Vahrohnos Bralos, you must know that no man rejoiced more than did I. However, while I and most other members of Council would consider your acquisitions from that Hahkmukos creature more in the nature of a reward for services, it is indeed quite possible that this new Thoheeks Pahvlos might also be of the opinion that the jewels you found within the cabinet are indeed loot, if only because the previous owner must have looted them from somewhere, at some time. Our good Tomos advises us that you have a plan to broach to representatives of Council today. What is it?”

Presently, Thoheeks Grahvos rang for a scribe and dictated two official documents. Then, while the man penned duplicates of each, Bralos set a small chest of cour bouilli on the table and from it counted out some twenty pounds of gold.

When the documents all had been sanded, signed, sealed and witnessed and the scribe was departed, Thoheeks Grahvos smiled broadly and said, “All right, my boy, it’s all done. So far as Thoheeks Pahvlos or any of his faction are concerned, you have admitted taking loot, taken advantage of the broadcast amnesty and conveyed to representatives of Council a golden-hilted dagger plus a certain measure of gold. But between us, you have that document recognizing your generous loan to Council, it payable to you or to your heirs at the end of ten years along with an interest of twenty-five percent the year, and should you die without formal heirs or legitimate issue, it will be paid to your present overlord or his heirs.”

“Please, my lord Thoheeks,” protested Bralos, “twenty-five percent the year is far too much. Really there should be none. Cannot my lord allow this to be a true gift to the Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee?”

The big, brawny nobleman just stood and stared at the younger for a moment, then he addressed Thoheeks Mahvros, saying, “The next time that Pennendos or Vikos or another of that stripe launch again into their incessant slanders of our nobility in this realm, recall you this day and this most generous minor nobleman. Thank God that we have good men like him still among us to come to our aid in time of need.

“No, my good Bralos, your generosity is much appreciated, but no. Your loan will be repaid with the indicated interest as indicated in this document.”

“All right, Captain Vahrohnos,” barked the white-haired Grand Strahteegos at Bralos, standing rigidly before him, “I know that you prized a jeweled, gold-hiked and gold-cased Yvuhz dagger on that mission to the north, so hand it over and I won’t have you striped … this time. Also, I want in my hands by nightfall of this day all of the gold or silver remaining of the loot you took in times past. When we come back from this campaign, we will see to the selling of your unconfirmed vahrohnoseeahn, in the south, your squadron captaincy and all else you saw fit to squander army monies upon.”

“My lord …” began Senior Captain Thoheeks Portos, who had been ordered to bring Bralos here.

But he was coldly, brusquely cut off in midsentence. “Shut your mouth, Portos! Yap only when I tell you to. My present business is with this posturing puppy.”

During the brief interruption, Bralos’ gaze flitted to the girlish Ilios, who lay stretched languidly on a couch behind the old man, the long-lashed eyelids slowly blinking, the too-pretty face blank. He wondered whether the pegboy was using hemp or poppy-paste.

“Would my lord Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks deign to peruse an official document of the Council of the Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee?” asked Bralos, formally and very diffidently.

“Give it to me,” snarled the old man, adding, “And it had better have some bearing on your crimes against this army of mine. I’ve had all that I can stomach of larcenous newly rich scum like you lording it over your betters and buying lands and ranks you but ill deserve.”

Upon reading the document, his face darkened with rage. From between slitted eyelids he looked up at Bralos with pure, distilled hatred. “You shoat, you thing of filth and slime, how dared you to commit so infamous an enormity as this? I should have you slowly whipped to death or impaled, do you know that? I hope that I never again see so foul an instance of insubordination as you have herein committed, you fatherless hound-pup! Are you aware, Portos, of what your favorite here has done? Are you? Well, answer me, damn you!”

“No, my lord Grand Strahteegos, I am not. I have not yet seen the document,” replied the brigade commander.

“Know you, then, Senior Captain, that this infamous malefactor turned the Yvuhz dagger and some pounds of gold over to Thoheeks Grahvos and Thoheeks Mahvros, and they then not only granted him a full pardon for his misdeeds in not turning all his loot over in the beginning, but recognized his landholdings and purchased title in an official Council document, of which this is a legal, witnessed copy. On the basis of this … this”—he waved the document about—“this piece of filth, this thing who calls himself Bralos now is confirmed and recognized by Council as the Vahrohnos of Yohyültönpolis, and no matter that he acquired lands and title with gold that was as good as stolen from this army of mine. And not only that, but that aged fool of a Grahvos so phrased this thing that this puppy now is also recognized by council as a captain-of-squadron of mercenary light cavalry/lancers.”

“But, my lord Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks,” remonstrated Portos, “ever since the Captain Vahrohnos bought the entirety of responsibility for his squadron, you have been referring to him as a mercenary.”

The old man glared at Portos for a long moment, then grated in a frigid tone, “Senior Captain, do not ever again display such a degree of temerity as to feed me back my own words, not if you’d keep that ugly head on those shoulders and the flesh on the bones of your back. You and everyone else with two bits of brain to rub together knew just what I meant when I called him a mercenary scoundrel, and it was not a description of his rank or his status in my army, either. If you don’t—really don’t—know just what I meant, then you are an utter dunce and should not be commanding a section, much less a brigade, in any kind of an army!”

Looking back at the still-rigid Bralos, he growled, “All right, my lord Captain Vahrohnos, you and your sly chicanery have stolen a march on me … this time. But be you warned, I am long in forgetting and I never forgive. I mean to see you dead for this, soon or late, I mean to see you die under circumstances that will reflect no slightest shred of honor on either you or the misbegotten house that was responsible for putting a thing like you out into the world, of afflicting decent folk with the fox-shrewd stench of you. Take your slimy document and get you out of my sight! Dismiss!”

Outside, Bralos mounted but sat his horse until Portos came out, his olive face black with suppressed rage, his big hands clenching and unclenching, his movement stiff, tightly controlled. But he spoke no word to Bralos until they were both well clear of the army headquarters area.

“Bralos, had it just been reported to me, I doubt that I would’ve, could’ve, believed it. But I heard it, heard it all. I can only surmise that the man is going— hell, has gone—stark, staring mad. Man, you just don’t talk to the senior officers of your army that way unless in strictest privacy. He had some choice slights for me, too, after he’d dismissed you, and hearing him I could not but think of how good it would be to see him laid out on a pyre, for all that we have no officer capable of replacing him. He couldn’t be as vicious toward me as he could and was toward you, of course, because I’m his peer in civil rank and I could call him out, force him to fight me breast to breast in a formal duel. But what he could get away with saying, he said.

“I tell you, friend Bralos, immediately I get back to my place, I’m going to have to write out an account of all that just happened. I couldn’t put such a job to a clerk or it would be over the whole army in an eyeblink of time … and that we definitely do not want; there’s trouble enough brewing already, thanks to that old man. Then I’m going to dispatch it to Thoheeks Grahvos, at the palace; you can add a statement to it, if you wish to so do.”

But Bralos shook his head. “No, the more you stir shit, the more and worse it stinks. Besides, you can say all that needs the saying, Portos.”

What with one seemingly unavoidable delay after another, the army was a week late in leaving for the old capital, taking the circuitous northern route now used by traders over roads recently refurbished by gangs of state-slaves. Bralos and his remaining men watched the army march out of the sprawling camp and set foot to the eastern road, led by light cavalry— not a few of these their comrades, Bralos’ troopers and officers—and with their supplies and baggage, their remudas and beef herds behind them.

It had been at the very next called meeting of senior officers after the explosive interview with the Grand Strahteegos that this newest catapult boulder had been dropped upon Bralos. After covering the order of the march column as regarded infantry, supply and baggage, specialist units and remounts, each category preceded by the name of the officer to command it and be at all times responsible for it, the Grand Strahteegos finally got around to the cavalry.

“Senior Captain Thoheeks Portos as brigade commander will, of course, exercise overall command of the horse, directly under me. He will also be in command of his own squadron of heavy horse. Captain Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn will be in command of his Horseclans medium-heavy horse. Captain-of-war-elephants Komees Nathos of Pinellopolis will be in overall command of his six bulls and the three cow draught elephants, assisted by Captain-of-work-elephants Gil Djohnz.

“Lastly, as regards light cavalry, Captain-of-squadron Opokomees Ehrrikos will, for this campaign, command his own three troops and an additional three troops which will be seconded to him from out of the Wolf Squadron, with the senior lieutenants of both squadrons to assist him.”

Bralos could not move or speak for a moment. He looked every bit as stunned as he felt, and, noticing this, not a few of his peers and superiors began to mutter amongst themselves.

Raising his voice, old Pahvlos went on to say, “Captain-of-squadron Vahrohnos Bralos of wherever, having shown himself treacherous and most disloyal to me and my army, will remain here with one troop to maintain order in the camp, where those I can trust can keep an eye on him.”

Bralos came to his feet at that last, his fury bubbling up in him, his hand clamping hard on the hilt of his saber.

“Draw it!” hissed the Grand Strahteegos, cruel glee shining out of his eyes. “Go ahead and draw that steel of yours, you young turd out of a diseased sow. Draw it before all these witnesses; that will be all I need to put a hempen necklace around your scabby throat, sneak-thief, poseur, illegitimate puppy.”

Bralos was on the verge of doing just that, suicidal action or no, but a powerful hand clamped cruelly hard about his upper arm, and in a whisper, Thoheeks Portos’ voice said, “Let be, son Bralos, let be, I say. Don’t play directly into his hands. He’s clearly, obviously trying in every way he knows to provoke you, making no slightest secret of that fact. He couldn’t strip you of your gold, so now he would have your blood, your honor and your life, so don’t just hand him that satisfaction. You outthought him before; do it again. That will hurt him far more than a honed edge would.”

When Bralos let go his well-worn hilt and sat down, there was a chorus of released breaths all about the crowded room.

Putting the best face he could upon his keen disappointment, the Grand Strahteegos crowed, “You see, gentlemen, you all saw it, didn’t you? The craven criminal will not even speak to refute my words; he’s patently not only guilty of his crimes, then, but an honorless coward, to boot.”

Bralos rose more slowly this time, came to rigid attention and said, slowly, clearly, very formally, “Captain-of-squadron Vahrohnos Bralos of Yohyültönpolis prays that he be allowed to appear before a full panel of his peers, that they may hear all evidence for and against his guilt of the charges made by the Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks Pahvlos and decide, therefrom, his culpability or innocence. If found guilty by them, he will leave the army. If found innocent, he will demand that his accusers meet him breast to breast, fully armed, in a formal duel overseen by Ehleen gentlemen.”

The old man’s face darkened in ire. “Shut your lying mouth and sit down, you thieving cur! No brave, honest, honorable gentleman needs hear anymore of your nauseating misdeeds from anyone. I say you’re guilty—guilty as very sin—and that’s all that’s necessary, hear me?”

“No it is not, my lord Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks” spoke up Sub-strahteegos Tomos Gonsalos, adding, “According to the traditions of this and every other Ehleen army—past or present—of which I have heard or had dealings, a noble officer accused of cowardice or of any felonious conduct by another officer has the right to demand that a panel of officers to include all who heard the allegations spoken or read them written be met as soon as expedient to hear or view all evidence and thereby judge his guilt or his innocence. It would pain me to have to report to the High Lord Milo Morai that so tradition-minded an officer as you refused to abide, in this one instance, by the traditional method and see justice done, thereby.”

Glaring hatred at the sub-strahteegos, old Pahvlos made to speak twice but produced only wordless growls of insensate rage, then finally stalked out and left his staff to conclude the briefing as best they could. These men’s efforts were not helped by the loud sounds of crashings and hangings emanating up the hallway from the direction of the Grand Strahteegos’ private quarters. That the old man had at last found his voice was clear to all; the shouted curses, obscenities and shocking blasphemies were proof of it.

When the meeting had been adjourned and the officers had silently filed out of the building, they all— seemingly of but a single mind and regardless of the crush of preparations still awaiting them in their own units—made directly for the officers’ mess, chivvied out the cooks and servants, then commenced their own meeting.

“I liked that old man, I did,” commented Captain-of-pikes Guhsz Hehluh. “I respected him, too, but after today, hell, I don’t know if I want a man like that over me and my Keebai boys anymore. He carried on like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum, there at the end of everything. What the hell would happen to the fucking army was the old bugger to do that in battle sometime?”

“Something’s changed him, altered his character drastically, and certainly for the worse,” said Captain-of-foot Bizahros, commander of the infantry brigade. “When first he came to lead us here, it was as if I still were serving under him in the old royal army, and I rejoiced, as did right many other officers and men of the old army. But now … it’s almost as if another person were inhabiting his mind. He always averred in the past that the commoner soldiers must be treated well by all officers, from the highest to the lowliest, must be always shown that officers have the best interests of their men at heart at all times. But now …”

“Yes,” nodded Senior Captain Thoheeks Portos, grim-faced, “but in the present state of affairs, we’ll be very fortunate do we not have to put down a mutiny or two during this campaign … and if not then, then surely when we get back and our units once more go under these ridiculous, divisive camp strictures of no women, no alcohol save the thoroughly watered issue and no movement outside the perimeter save on organized details.”

“It seems to me, and God grant that I’m wrong, in this instance,” opined Captain of Light Infantry Ahzprinos, “that our esteemed Grand Strahteegos is dead set upon splitting up our army—destroying any rapport between the officers and the common soldiers of their units, fomenting dissension of all sorts between the units and the officers, first playing foot against horse, then playing mercenary against regular units and so on.

“Take the beginning of this business today, for instance. He knew damned good and well that Captain Opokomees Ehrrikos and Captain Vahrohnos Bralos have had differences and are not on the best of terms even yet, and it seemed he could not rest but had to pick at that scab.”

“What was or is between Bralos and me is our personal affair,” said Captain Ehrrikos bluntly, “and I did not at all like him using or trying to use it as a foil to make more bad blood between me and a military peer. Bralos, I didn’t and don’t want the responsibility of a double-size squadron thrust willy-nilly upon me, but as you must know, I had, have and will have damn-all choice in the matter, not so long as I continue to serve under this increasingly strange, new-model Grand Strahteegos Pahvlos.

“But Bralos, comrade, you have my word of honor before all of these gentleman-comrades that your troops and officers will in no way be made to suffer while under my command. They’ll be asked to perform nothing that my own troops are not asked. I will deal with them at all possible times through their senior lieutenant or troop-lieutenants and they will be stinted on neither remounts nor supplies. Our Grand Strahteegos is both my military and my civil superior and I am sworn to obey his orders, where such orders do not impinge upon my personal honor, but I’ll be damned if I’ll serve him as a rod with which he can punish an officer to whom he has taken a dislike or that officer’s subordinates, either.”

Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos said, “That is a good and a most noble gesture, Captain Ehrrikos. You other gentlemen should take it to heart, recall it when next that old man makes to set two of you to fighting, tearing at each other like alley curs. Remember that the continued cohesion and existence of this army is vital to the continued power of Council and to the very survival of these Consolidated Thoheekseeahnee. If you don’t want, to see a return to conditions of anarchy and chaos in these lands, then you must all cooperate to defeat whatever schemes this once-great man’s mind is apparently concocting. For all I know, he wants to be king, but if he does, it would seem to me he’d be trying to bind the army to him, not erode its discipline, fracture its cohesion and drive its best officers and common soldiers away from it.”

The army was gone for six weeks. Immediately it had marched back into the camp, while still the trains were making their dusty way to their depot, with a cracking of stock-whips and the shouts and foul curses of drivers and drovers, Captain-of-squadron Opokomees Ehrrikos of Panther Squadron and Senior Lieutenant Hymos of Rahnpolis reined up and dismounted before the building housing the camp headquarters of Wolf Squadron. After slapping as much dust as they could from their sweat-stained clothing, they entered to confront Bralos.

The first look at the officers’ faces told Bralos that something was amiss, and he suffered another cold chill of presentiment. Even so, he saw both the tired, sweating men served cool, watered wine and waited silently for the bad news for as long as he could bear it before finally demanding, “All right, how many men were lost from my squadron, Ehrrikos?”

“One killed, neck snapped when his horse fell at the gallop; the horse had to be put down, too. Three injured; one stabbed in the thigh with a spear, one knifed in some senseless, pointless brawl of a night— the eeahtrohsee give him a forty-sixty chance of living— one with his clavicle broken by a fractious remount horse.”

“Then why the long faces, gentlemen?” demanded Bralos, still more than certain that something was terribly wrong.

The senior lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, then, but kept silent when Captain Ehrrikos spoke first. “Almost to the old royal capital, there was a small bit of action on the road, you see.”

“Bandits?” said Bralos with incredulity. “They must’ve been mad to nibble at a column so large and strong.”

“No, not bandits, but certainly mad, nonetheless, Bralos. There was a gang of state-slaves at work at a crossroads, not working on the main road, but on the one crossing it there. A troop of your boys was riding back down the column to relieve another troop—one of mine—that had been riding rearguard for some hours. When some damned farmboy wight of an infantryman dropped a spear, one of the slaves grabbed it up, used it to slay two slave guards, and then two more slaves were armed. The other guards happened to be on the other side of the road with the marching column between them and the action, so your Lieutenant-of-troop Gahndos of Rohthakeenonpolis bade his men encircle the murderous slaves and disarm or kill them. He’s a good officer, that one, Bralos, but of course his early training was under me.

“The troopers had to finally kill all three of the slaves—that’s where your trooper got the spear wound in his thigh, he came in under your man’s lance only to get another in his whip-whealed, scabby back before he could withdraw the point of the spear. At the very end of the action, the Grand Strahteegos and his guards came pounding back from the head of the main column.

“Now in that ruckus, one other of your common soldiers, a sergeant, had been thrust in the armpit by one of the slaves he was trying to hit with the flat of his saber; in the withdrawal, the hooked blade of the slave-guard spear caught in and tore loose a good part of the upper sleeve of the sergeant’s arming-shirt.”

“Uh-oh!” said Bralos, shaking his head. “Pahvlos saw the mail lining?”

“No, not at first. In fact, he was reining about to go back when his damned Ilios Pooeesos saw and pointed it out to him,” replied Captain Ehrrikos sourly. “But he just stared, then rode on back up to his place in the column, and the march resumed from there.

“That evening, however, when we were barely done with the horses and the cooks were minding the rations, the old man rode in with his guards and a troop of heavy horse, fully armed and with Senior Captain Portos along for good measure, though he had left his pegboy in his pavilion, sitting on his peg, I suppose.

“He ordered me to fall out all of your troops— officers, sergeants and troopers. I did, what else could I do, Bralos? He ordered that they be assembled in ranks unarmed but carrying their arming-shirts, and this was obeyed. Then he and several of his guards dismounted and stalked up and down the ranks, using knives to cut the sleeves from off every arming-shirt save only those of the officers, throwing the sleeves out on the ground before the formation.

“That all done, he preached your three troops a long homily that concerned mostly his belief that an excess of useless armor slowed down troopers and needlessly overweighted their mounts. Nor could he stay a few stabs at you, it seems, telling them that they would not be punished unless they should try to reaffix the sleeves without first removing the forbidden mail inserts from them. He chided them for continuing to serve under a base, thieving, forsworn, arrogant, impudent, insubordinate … have I forgotten any, Hymos, my boy?”

“Only some of the more colorful references to Captain Bralos’ ancestry and personal habits, my lord Captain,” replied the senior lieutenant wryly.

“Well, Bralos, you get the general drift of the old man’s slanders,” concluded Ehrrikos.

“How did my men take all this, Hymos?” asked the commander of Wolf Squadron. “Do they seem to think the worse of me?”

The youngest officer smiled grimly. “Sir, they considered, first and foremost, the source and thought of all the hardships that he has tried to inflict upon them and all the other soldiers, and they recalled the officer who has so generously cared for them, indulged them, even paid them out of his own purse when his accuser would not. No officer or sergeant needs to tell the troopers of your squadron who is their champion, their benefactor and their truest friend, my lord Captain Vahrohnos Bralos, nor can the fevered rantings of even so high-ranking an officer of this army as the Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks Pahvlos the Warlike convince the squadron that white is suddenly become black and black, white.

“And Captain Opokomees Ehrrikos holds high regard for you, as well, my lord. The Grand Strahteegos ordered the mail be buried, but the captain instead saw it hidden and scattered around the officers’ baggage wagons, instead.”

But when Bralos would have thanked his military peer, Ehrrikos shrugged and said, “Hell, comrade, I’d’ve done the same for any other whom I happened to feel was being wronged and robbed through no real fault of his own. That kind of mail is damnably expensive stuff, I know; I once priced a shirt of it and walked around in a state of shock for two weeks afterwards.”

“But the risk you took for me …” Bralos protested, his words cut off by Ehrrikos.

“Damn the risk, my friend, it’s you who is at risk, terrible risk, every day and every night while Pahvlos is in this camp. For whatever reason, he truly hates you, he means to have your guts for garters, and no doubt about it. Were I you, I’d keep my blankets rolled and my baggage packed constantly. Be ready to take your squadron and ride at a moment’s notice, comrade, for you know that if you flee alone, that monster we now serve will, at his best, send Wolf Squadron on your trail with written orders to bring back your head. At worst, he’ll force them to bring you back alive to be slowly tortured to death, or maimed, then impaled or crucified.”

“No, I talked all of everything over with Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos while the army was gone,” said Bralos soberly. “I have decided that the very next personal insult or public accusation of wrongdoing of any nature or attempt to get at me through the officers or common troopers of Wolf Squadron will be the time when I sell back my rank, demand , the long-overdue pay of my troopers, sergeants and officers, mount us all up and set out for my vahrohnohseeahn, in the south. As Tomos says, Pahvlos is a very old man and is leading a very strenuous life and cannot therefore be expected to live much longer, even does he not so far overreach himself that the Council finds it must put paid to his long-overdue account lest he finally really wreck this army of theirs for good and all.

“In normal times, I like soldiering, but I cannot do it longer under such a man, so I will leave it until he no longer commands.”

“I pray that you not wait just a little too long, my friend,” said Ehrrikos earnestly … and prophetically, though he knew it not.