The Crown of the Conqueror

II

The sun was still burning off the morning haze that surrounded the camp. It was a little past the third hour of Dawnwatch and the legionnaires had already dismantled a third of the camp in preparation for the day's march. According to the maps — and the unasked-for testimony of Kubridias — they would come to Arundonda late in the coming afternoon.

Most of the tents had been packed away already, the forges and kitchen fires quenched, the abadas harnessed to their carts and the kolubrid riders sent out on patrol. Everything was happening smoothly and quietly, a source of pride to the legion commander as he walked through the dwindling camp with his senior Second Captains; Luusin, Bariilin, Kasod and Daariun.

The four of them were tested officers, brought in by Jutaar's father from other legions to help him run the legion. To stiffen the resolve of the Magilnadans — a mixture of men descended from Salphors, Hillmen and Ersuans — the captains had brought their companies with them, forming a core of legionnaires that had fought across the empire and who Jutaar knew were loyal Askhans. Their presence served as an example to the other companies to live up to, and Jutaar, taking the advice of his father, had been forthright in his praise and reward of them in the hope that it would persuade the newer companies to come up to the level expected.

Legionnaires and Third Captains barely paid any heed to the officers in their midst as the captains made their way towards the main gate. Jutaar looked for anything out of place or badly done, and knew that his subordinates were doing the same. There was no cause for complaint; no poorly stacked supplies, no errant legionnaires slacking off, no discarded gear or slovenly behaviour.

"Have any of you seen… that filthy chieftain?" Jutaar asked his companions. He used the epithet rather than make a mangled attempt at pronouncing Kubridias's name, an issue that had caused the chieftain umbrage several times since coming to the camp.

"He left last night," said Kasod. "I think he's gone ahead to make sure there's a suitable welcome celebration for our arrival."

Jutaar grunted with displeasure.

"We are not here for feasting and drinking," said the First Captain. "There is no cause for celebrations yet. When my father stands in the hall of Carantathi we can break out the wine."

"Of course, prince," said Kasod. Jutaar detected an unusual surliness to the Second Captain's tone.

"You have something to say about the situation, Kasod?"

"Just a little frustration, prince," the captain replied. He looked at the others before continuing. "I speak for us all when I say we wish we had something more to do. Ever since the legion was raised, these men have done nothing except march to Maasra and back, and guard a few roads. I would be happier once we've seen them in proper action."

"I understand," said Jutaar. He smiled at the group. "I will let you into a small secret. Although Anglhan has given gold to that bestial man to bribe the other chieftains, it is my intent that we do not spend it. I am not happy about paying off tribesmen with gold that could be spent paying legionnaires and building towns. My standing order to the legion is to attack any Salphorian settlement we come across. If they want to surrender, we will give them the chance, but nothing more."

"A good decision, prince," said Daariun. "If word gets around that the chieftains can earn themselves some coin by playing hard to get, it will only make matters worse. I'm surprised Anglhan would be so generous, he's not usually that free with his money."

The group had reached the gatehouse, which was being quickly dismantled as they passed out of the camp. Clouds filled the sky and Jutaar could barely see half a mile in the pre-dawn gloom; the fog around the base of the hill swathed everything in grey. Sounds of shouted orders, axes, hammers and the jangle of abada harnesses emanated from the camp behind.

Jutaar stretched to ease the ache in his shoulders. After the previous day's full march he had been a mess of sore feet and cramped muscles, unfit from the long days of inactivity. He had longed for a hot bath, but the lack of lava fuel made such a thing impractical on the move.

"I reckon it's going to be a fine day," said Jutaar. "Once this cloud has been burned away, it'll be good marching weather."

"Campaigning in the spring, you can't beat it," said Bariilin. "Warm days, cool nights, dry ground underfoot."

"It'll be nice to get an early test of the men," said Kasod. "Drill is all good, but it's only proper battle that sorts out the best."

Jutaar cast a glance at Kasod, wondering if the captain's comment was somehow directed at him. Kasod was looking down the hillside, nonchalant with one hand on his sword hilt, the other on his hip. The prince said nothing, but knew that his ability to command was as untested as the fighting skills of the legion he led. He was under no delusion about his own talents; everything he knew about battle tactics he had learned from treatises or his father. He was also aware that he was not blessed with the active imagination and far-sighted vision of the truly great commanders.

Such deficiencies did not worry Jutaar too much; his father had assured him that winning a battle was more about doing things properly and efficiently than extravagant manoeuvres and wild plans. And, considering all things. Jutaar did not believe his father would put him in charge of the legion if the king did not think he was capable.

Knowing that he could lead an army on the field was one thing, showing it to his men was another. A victory, however gained, would be of benefit to everybody.

"Let us hope that some stupid warlord decides to make a stand," said the prince. "Nothing too dangerous; like a spar before a wrestling bout to get loosened up, work out the stiffness."

"There are half a dozen tribes within three days' march," said Luusin. "It would be easy enough to go and pick a fight with one of them."

"I would be all for it, captain, but those are not our orders," Jutaar replied with a sigh. "Not yet, at least. I hope that my father loosens the leash with new orders soon."

The group stood for a while in silence, each man enjoying the view and weighing the prospects of the future. A shout from a sentry patrolling outside the wall to their right broke the reverie. Looking to where the legionnaire was pointing through the thinning mist, Jutaar saw a lone outrider heading towards the camp at some speed, urging on his sluggish kolubrid.

In the clearing haze, the officers did not need the outrider to tell them what he had seen; a dark mass was coming into view across the crest of a ridge to hotwards, above the trail leading to Arondunda. Several thousand tribesmen were assembling on the hillside, no more than two miles away.

"It looks like our Salphorian allies have decided to join us," said Jutaar. He watched for a little longer. "Why are they stopping on the hill?"

"Why are they here at all?" said Kasod. "I don't think they are allies, prince."

Jutaar considered this. It seemed odd that the Salphors would attack now, when the legion had been camped only another day to dawnwards for the whole of the winter. On the other hand, there did seem to be quite a lot of them, several thousand at a rough guess; more than would be accounted for if Kubridias had brought just his own tribe.

"I'll have the men stand to arms," said Kasod, taking a step towards the gate.

"Yes, do that," said Jutaar, eyes on the expanding crowd of warriors extending along the ridge. "Surely they realise I am not going to simply march down there and let them attack? And I do not think they are foolish enough to come at us. What are they hoping to gain?"

The Second Captains offered no suggestions as horns sounded around the camp. The legionnaires dropped what they were doing — literally in the case of those men pulling down the walls — and gathered in ranks behind their company icons. The clatter of a breaking camp was replaced by the drum of sandaled feet, the clatter of spears and shields and a general murmur of confusion and suspicion. Bellows from the sergeants and Third Captains silenced the rowdier soldiers and harangued the slowest. Kasod prowled amongst the companies, sword in hand, shouting orders to the other Second Captains.

Watching the Salphors, Jutaar confirmed that they were massing on the hill but coming no closer.

"Do you think they are waiting for something?" he said.

"It looks like it, but waiting for what?" said Luusin.

Jutaar headed back into the camp, assessing the situation. Half of the wall had been brought down already. To stay within would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"I find the Salphors' timing remarkable," said Luusin, trailing behind the prince with the others. "It seems more than coincidence that they turn up right when we're in the middle of breaking camp."

Jutaar said nothing, but the thought put in his mind by Luusin did not sit comfortably. The timing was too neat, and contrary to what he had learned in general about the Salphors from the reports of the other legion commanders; their warriors took considerable time to prepare for battle and were rarely ready to fight before mid-morning. Thinking along this line in his own plodding way, Jutaar added in the fact that there was obviously more than one tribe gathering on the ridge. Only rarely had the Salphors been able to put aside their traditional differences even in the face of the Askhan advance.

Making pretence of looking over his army, the prince tried to put together the pieces he had at hand. It felt like one of those sums his tutors had tested him with as a child, but with some of the numbers missing; what he knew just did not add up to any plausible answer.

"Move the legion to a defensive position on the slope facing the enemy," he told his subordinates. "Leave three companies as rearguard in the camp."

The Second Captains thumped fists to their chests in salute and headed off to spread the word. Horns and drums signalled the orders to the army as Jutaar pondered the possible outcomes. He always found things worked out better if he had time to think them through in advance rather than make hasty decisions.

If the Salphors remained where they were, Jutaar decided he would force their bluff with an attack. If they moved away, he would order a pursuit; such aggressive behaviour could not be ignored. If they attacked, that would be the simplest solution of all; the army would hold the hillside and repel the tribesmen from the position of advantage.

Happy that he had all eventualities covered, Jutaar joined the front rank of the first company as they headed for the gate at the head of the march. They led the legion out of the camp and turned coldwards towards the enemy, taking up position on the far left of the line at a place a third of the way down the slope. More companies fell into position to their right, stretching around the hill for a quarter of a mile, each phalanx arranged ten wide and sixteen ranks deep, spears piercing the sky like a bronze-tipped thicket with large, round blue-and-black leaves.

Having been brought back from the picket by the clarions, the kolubrid company positioned themselves just behind the centre, ready to sweep around either flank as necessary. The thump of mallets on wooden pegs announced the war machine crews setting up the spear throwers and catapults a hundred paces behind the legionnaires, from where they would be able to fire over the phalanxes. Flames crackled and smoke climbed into the clouds as the rearguard set fire to the remaining camp defences. With this job attended to, the guard companies emerged alongside lines of abada wagons; they filed away slowly to hotwards, carrying essential supplies of food, ammunition, weapons and water, as well as the heavy bound chests holding the paymaster's coins. Everything else was left in the camp, to be taken by the flames or recovered after victory as fate decided.

The weather was warming quickly, as Jutaar had predicted. The clouds and mist that had obscured the approach of the Salphors were now all but gone, leaving the air chill but clear. The spring sun was not quite hot enough to make things comfortable, but the wind was light and there was no sign of worse weather on the horizon. If the Salphors wanted to wait out the patience of the Askhans, Jutaar was content to oblige them.

The morning dragged on laboriously, each hour of the passing watches called out by the timekeepers with their shuttered watch candle lanterns. Dawnwatch crept into Low Watch, when Jutaar issued the order for the army to take a water break. On the opposite side of the shallow valley, the Salphors seemed to be in no hurry to move either. Though it was hard to be sure, it looked to Jutaar as if many of them were sitting down, enjoying the sun and fresh air. It certainly was not the build up to a battle he expected.

It was impossible to keep the legionnaires at full focus for any length of time, and the Salphors were in plain view and thus unable to launch a sudden attack. As the second hour of Low Watch passed, Jutaar sent word to the Second Captains to stand down from battle formations. Staying in their companies, the legionnaires stacked their spears, piled their shields and gratefully took off their helmets. Conversation drifted along the hillside; Jutaar ignored the usual mix of boasts, complaints and tall stories as he left the First Company and walked the line, signalling for his council of Seconds to gather.

"Perhaps they are waiting for us to send an embassy," Jutaar suggested, as the five of them sat down on a clutch of rocks, water canteens in hand.

"If they wanted to talk, they would've sent someone to us," replied Daariun. "I think they are just fucking about with us. As soon as we make a move on them, they'll be off into the plains quicker than a run to the latrines after a night of bad beer."

"I just don't see what they think they can gain," said Luusin. "Do you think it's a feint? Maybe they've got a whole bunch more tribes hiding behind that ridge and they want to lure us into an attack before springing them on us."

"Maybe something is happening to duskwards, and this lot are just here to delay us," suggested Kasod. "Could be that Kubridias's neighbours have got bored of him playing whore and they've attacked his town."

"Which is it?" snapped Jutaar. "If it is a trap, we should not attack; if it is a diversion or delay, we should drive them off as soon as we can and head after Kubridias."

"You can rule out a trap by sending some scouts over that ridge," said Kasod.

Jutaar looked at the lay of the land. The ridgeline was bare of anything larger than bushes and rocks; any scouts would be easily spotted as they tried to cross it. The closest woods were at least four or five miles away to hotwards.

"That would take another hour, perhaps two to know for sure," said the prince. He turned to Luusin. "We may as well do something. Send half a dozen kolubrids through those woods down there. They should be able to see any army lying in wait once they get to the other side."

Luusin nodded and headed off towards the kolubrid company, waving to attract the attention of their captain. Soon the scouts were slithering away on their scaled mounts, heading down the blindside of the hill to avoid being seen by the Salphors. Luusin returned to the group.

"They'll burn lavaleaf torches if there are no enemy," the captain reported. "We should see the smoke from here if the wind doesn't get any stronger."

Jutaar nodded, pleased with his initiative. It felt good to be doing something, even if that something was only taking a better look at the situation. He wondered what his father would do. Probably attack first and worry about the consequences later, he decided. Jutaar did not like taking risks, and knew it would be better to wait than to commit to something foolish.

The third hour of Low Watch came and went without event. The small council broke apart, the captains walking amongst their companies and the other legionnaires, joking and passing the time as best they could. Jutaar stayed where he was, sitting and staring at the Salphorian army. He was forced to wonder if he was being tricked. If the Salphors had even more warriors, it made more sense that they would not have shown several thousand of their number on the hill; better to leave just a few hundred as more tempting bait. If that was the case, the Salphors were on the ridge for a purpose, and that could only be to protect something behind them.

"We are going to attack," Jutaar announced loudly, jumping to his feet. "Stand the legion to arms."

"Bored of waiting, prince?" Daariun called out from the third company.

"If the Salphors want to sit on that hill all day, we are going to make sure that they cannot," Jutaar replied. "Second Captains! To me for orders of battle."

When the company commanders had assembled, Jutaar outlined the plan of attack he had been devising throughout the whole morning. Like the commander that had thought of it, the plan was simple. The right wing of the legion would engage the Salphors directly and hopefully draw them down the ridge on to the centre. The left wing would extend past the Salphors' flank, gain the crest and attack the Salphorian rear from above.

"The enemy outnumber us," Jutaar warned. "The best way that this will work is for the centre and right to take up position at the base of the ridge. The war engines will move down onto level ground and attack the Salphors. They will have to either withdraw or come to meet us head on, straight onto our spear tips, which will suit us just fine. Either way, the left wing will move up the shallower slope and press their flank. If the Salphors move to head off this attack, the right wing will have to advance around the other side instead. Does everybody understand?"

There was agreement from all the captains and with no questions to be raised they headed back to their companies. Drums rolled to sound the advance as the legionnaires pushed themselves to their feet, took up spears and shields and fell into rank again. Advancing in formation, the First Magilnadan flowed down the slope towards the enemy as a solid line of bronze.

The legion had covered the first quarter-mile when Jutaar saw a ruddy smudge in the air, drifting up behind the Salphors. It was the smoke from the scouts, indicating that there were no enemy hiding behind the hill.

"I knew it was a ruse," Jutaar laughed to his icon bearer, Kaasin. "They would never catch me out with such a simple trick. We will see how clever they think they are."

Kaasin nodded and smiled but said nothing. Ahead, the Salphorian army was engulfed by a flurry of movement as the warriors gathered in their tribal bands, roused by the Askhan advance. Jutaar could hear crude hunting horns, but they were just blaring randomly, not the pre-arranged signals of the Askhan musicians. Watching the enemy movements carefully, Jutaar concluded that the Salphors were going to hold the ridgeline; they made no attempt to retreat but neither were they coming any closer.

The advance continued until the legion was a quarter of a mile from the enemy. Here, Jutaar called a halt while the war machines were erected again. All the while, the Salphors seemed content to allow him to organise his battle line and prepare his engines.

"Idiots," Jutaar said happily to the men around them. "They just wait there, like a rabbit in a snare not realising that the knife is coming down."

A tremor of words suddenly rippled through the army, seeming to originate from the far right flank.

"What is happening?" Jutaar called out to Kasod, who was in the company to his right.

The Second Captain shrugged and passed on the question to Daariun, but before anything was shouted back, Jutaar received his answer. Men from every company were turning around and pointing back up the hill. Jutaar craned his neck to look over the men behind and saw something in the air to hotwards; a slim arc of black smoke. It was the trail of a warning arrow, shot by a bellows bow in the rearguard.

The import of this quickly engulfed the legion; the baggage train was in trouble of some kind. Jutaar chided himself for advancing, leaving the supplies almost two miles behind. Had that been the Salphor ploy all along? He did not panic, even though around him the legionnaires were wildly and loudly speculating on the demise of their baggage.

"Restore order, captains!" Jutaar bellowed, stepping out of the first company to face the army. He waited for a moment while the chastised legionnaires fell silent. He pointed at Salphors in front of the army. "If we turn back, those crafty bastards are going to come down that hill after us. More than five hundred of your companions guard the baggage. We wait for the report from the rearguard. Until then, you will maintain ranks and be prepared to fight the enemy to our front. Company punishment for the next man to speak out of turn!"

There was no need to issue further orders; messengers on kolubrids were already guiding their scaled mounts up the hill to see what, if any, enemy was attacking the baggage and to intercept any rider or runner the rearguard were sending with news.

Jutaar attempted to affect the same air of nonchalance he had seem his father employ in such situations; though he was sure that in the case of Ullsaard his calm disregard was real and not feigned. Though he strove to appear unflustered by this development, Jutaar's stomach churned and his heart raced. It was not fear that caused this reaction, but excitement. Jutaar fought to concentrate, to remember the lessons he had been told and had read in the treatises of the old commanders. He kept telling himself that a rash reaction to events was the worst thing he could do. A real commander assessed the battlefield as it developed, based his decisions on what he knew for sure, and did not overreact.

The loss of the baggage would be an embarrassment more than a strategic disaster; every legionnaire was required to carry everything he needed for living and war-making. Each had food and fresh water for five days, and amongst the men of each company were more than enough whetstones, spare spear tips and knives, extra sandals and shield straps, and other such tools and supplies of maintenance needed to keep them in fighting shape. Whatever happened, Jutaar was determined that the legion would withdraw in good order, all the way back to Magilnada if needed.

There seemed to be some confusion amongst the scouts; some were turning back already while others were continuing on back up the hill towards the rearguard. Jutaar could plainly see the riders arguing with each other. It was ill-disciplined behaviour at the best of times and inexcusable during the current circumstance.

"Council captains, gather on me!" Jutaar called out. Bariilin, Luusin, Daariun and Kasod broke from their companies at a quick jog, quickly converging on their general. "Luusin, go and find out what that scouts think they are doing and report back immediately."

The Second Captain set off with a quick salute. Jutaar turned his attention back to the Salphors.

"It doesn't look like they're ready to come and play yet," said Kasod.

What he said was true. The Salphors stood at the top of the ridge, some of them laughing and pointing at their Askhan foes.

"If they think this is some kind of joke, they will learn that it is not," said Jutaar. "They are trying to goad us into an attack. We will remain here until the matter with the rearguard is settled."

There were nods of approval from Daariun and Bariilin, but Kasod looked unconvinced.

"You think we should attack?" Jutaar snapped at the Second Captain.

"I think we should do something, prince," replied Kasod. "If the baggage is being attacked, we look like a bunch of prize pricks waiting for the whores, standing here doing nothing."

"But what can we do?" said Jutaar, pacing in agitation, all thoughts of a calm presentation forgotten. "If the Salphors want us to pull back, we should attack. If they want us attack, we should pull back."

"Fuck the Salphors," said Kasod, grabbing Jutaar's arm to bring him to a halt. "What do you want to do, prince?"

"Yes, yes, you are right," said Jutaar, tugging free his arm. "We will continue the attack. The baggage guard will have to look after themselves."

"Are you sure, prince?" said Daariun. "We have unknown enemies behind us. If they come at us while we are engaged on the ridge, we'll be trapped."

Jutaar cleared his throat.

"All right," he said. "The most prudent stance will be to withdraw back to where we were and provide support for the rearguard. However, we will be prepared to turn if the Salphors come off the ridge."

A shout from a returning Luusin broke the deliberations. The Second Captain was approaching at a full run, helmet crest flapping madly. As he reached Jutaar, he flopped to one knee, fighting for breath.

"It's the Second," he managed between gasps. "Coming up from dawnwards."

"Well, that's all right," laughed Daariun. He nodded towards the Salphorian army. "That lot are fucked now. I bet they weren't expecting two legions."

"Nor should they be," said Jutaar. He pulled Luusin to his feet. "You are sure it is the Second Magilnadan? From Dawnwards?"

"Yes, prince," said Luusin. "Blue and black shields, with Anglhan's stupid silver bosses on them. Pretty much following in our footsteps."

"But they should already be at Arundonda, ahead of us," said Jutaar. He looked at his captains, bewildered by the news. "What are they doing here?"

"Delayed, maybe?" suggested Daariun.

"No, they were wintered more than fifty miles hotwards of where we were," said Kasod. "There's no reason they should be behind us, and certainly not with the orders they were given."

"They must have received new orders," said Jutaar. "But orders from whom?"

"Prince!" Luusin burst out having regained his breath, drowning out Kasod's reply. "They are marching on the rearguard. They're not just following us. They look like they're going to attack!"

"Well, that's clearly nonsense," said Daariun. "Why would they do that?"

"Anglhan," said Kasod. "Prince, where did our orders come from?"

"From the king," Jutaar replied, confused by the question. "Who else would have sent them?"

"From the king himself? Directly?"

"Well, no, not directly. They came in a letter, via royal courier." Jutaar swallowed hard, the implication of what he had just said sinking in. "You mean they were forged?"

"Yes," snapped Kasod. The Second Captain darted a look over his shoulder at the legion. In the absence of orders, they milled around, uncertain and restless. Several companies had broken up, some soldiers looking back towards the rearguard, others keeping an eye on the Salphors. "We have to get out of here. It isn't safe!"

The captains degenerated into a hushed, snarled argument. Jutaar was at a loss to say anything. He still found the situation highly unlikely. If Anglhan wanted Jutaar dead, there were other ways to achieve it. Even the pretence of having him slain by the Salphors was dubious, considering the cost and damage of setting two legions against each other. Jutaar could not figure out what was to be gained by pitching the two Magilnadan armies into battle with one another.

An answer trickled slowly into his mind, bringing with it a chill feeling in his gut. Jutaar stared at his army with suspicion. Some of the captains had left their companies and were gathered in their own group. They occasionally cast glances at their commander and his council.

"Captains, return to your companies," said Kasod, noticing the same. "Prince, we have to withdraw now."

"You are not in command," said Jutaar. "I am your general and prince."

"We don't have time for this," said Kasod. He turned on his fellow captains. "Anglhan has paid off the Magilnadans. Look at them! They're going to turn on us."

In fact, the Magilnadan officers were returning to their companies, calling them to order. Looking back to dawnwards Jutaar could see thicker smoke rising from where the rearguard had been; they had either destroyed the supplies or the other legion had reached the baggage train. On the ridge to the front, the Salphors had also seen this and obviously knew what it meant. Horns clamoured again and the tribal warriors stirred themselves, picking up shields and spears in readiness for battle.

"First through Fifth companies, assemble on your prince!" Kasod bellowed, running back to his men. The other Second Captains scattered, repeating the order, leaving Jutaar standing on his own in front of the army.

The prince hesitated, unsure what to do. He was wrenched from his indecision by the jangle of armour as the first company gathered around him. The legion was quickly splitting as both sides realised what was about to happen; the Magilnadans formed a tight line slightly further up the gentle slope while Kasod and the other loyal captains set their companies in a solid block around Jutaar.

The prince felt hopeless. This was only his first command and his legion was in revolt. His father had entrusted this army to him and he had failed miserably in his duties. Out-thought and outmanoeuvred, he had blundered into Anglhan's trap like a boar into a pit. The king had tried to warn him, but he had fallen victim to his own trusting stupidity.

Urikh had been right all along; he was a disappointment to his father. A mediocre son, a poor brother, a pathetic husband; that would be his appalling legacy. Worse than any of that, Jutaar knew he would be remembered as the commander of the First Magilnadan, a legion of traitors.

Jutaar's eyes stung as he held back hot tears. Through misted vision he could see the turncoat companies advancing in wide formation, spears lowered for the attack.