Great Kings' War (32 page)

Even if they did, General Hestophes was going to have his hands full if the enemy came up in force before his men did. Kalvan tried not to think of losing the man who'd stood off a Nostori force ten times his own strength at Narza Gap last year, or of what all the widows and orphans in Hostigos would say if it turned out that he was sending Hestophes' six thousand to their deaths. That was not likely, though. Man for man they were probably the best infantry force ever seen here-and-now, and they weren't supposed to defeat the Harphaxi left outright, just keep its attention while the rest of the Hostigi plan unfolded...

Harmakros' five thousand cavalry, mostly veterans of the Royal Horse and the Army of Observation, would be stationed on the open ground north of the Heights to watch the Middle Gap and hold it as long as possible. Kalvan would give them a thousand infantry and four guns; the infantry should mostly go up the Heights to reinforce Colonel Verkan and the Mobile Force.

"If we can make them think the Heights are held in force, so much the better." Harmakros was looking down in the mouth, and Kalvan knew why. "Don't worry. I know your troopers are spoiling for a fight. They'll get one sooner or later, and if it's sooner, it will probably be against the Zarthani Knights. If that's not a big enough fight, I don't know what else I can do for them!

"Prince Armanes, you will remain here"—Kalvan tapped a point on the Great Harph Road about three miles, or six Zarthani marches, north of Hestophes' most likely position—"and be prepared to move either to support either Hestophes or Harmakros at their request. Any request for help from them shall be treated as if it came from me personally."

"As Your Majesty commands." Prince Armanes was very much a book soldier, but he wouldn't do anything dangerously stupid as long as you handled him right. His twenty-four hundred Nyklosi were also about the best of the Princely armies, after Hostigos and Sask.

That took care of somewhat more than half the Army of the Harph, but it tied up the whole enemy army one way or another for long enough to let Kalvan move his remaining eight thousand more or less where they would do the most good—or damage, depending on whose viewpoint you took. Meanwhile, the rough wooded ground, mostly second-growth forest, between the West Gap and the Harph would hide the eight thousand from any scouts less determined than the Zarthani Knights, who would have to fight their way past Harmakros before they could do any good.

What was George Patton's description of a certain maneuver—"We're going to hold on to them by the nose while we kick them in the pants"? The first pants to be kicked would probably be the Harphaxi left's, already somewhat out at the seat after several hours of frontal assaults on Hestophes. After that, Kalvan intended to play the battle very much by ear, but he would have a good chance to get into the rear of the enemy's main column on the right, and they'd have next to no chance of getting into
his
rear.

The thought of rears gave Kalvan a final idea. One of the things the Ulthori had been looting across the Harph was clothing. They'd been mustered into service in what they'd owned as civilians; even when that had been half decent it had been a bit threadbare, and now most of it looked like rags destined for the bins of the new paper mill. Half of the men now looked like Ulthori peasants, except for their Hostigi red scarves and sashes.

Why not put a few hundred Ulthori in the captured boats and sent them downriver into the Harphaxi rear? Let them loot to their heart's content, looking as much as possible like a peasant uprising. Something every noble feared at the pit of his stomach. Maybe they could spark a real one if he gave them orders to turn captured weapons over to any local peasants who seemed anti-Styphon enough. Maybe, but that would be getting into delicate territory politically; enough for now that they just pretend to be a peasant army and scare the whey out of Philesteus.

Kalvan tried to think if there was anything more that didn't have to be left to the chance of battle, and decided there wasn't. One of his Princeton history professor's favorite remarks came to mind, a quotation from some Army manual: "No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy."

This Battle of the Heights of Chothros would be no exception. The number of things that could still go wrong was rather appalling. The best Kalvan could honestly say was that he'd disaster-proofed the Army of the Harph, given it a damned good chance of victory, and would have to leave the rest to Galzar, Duke Aesthes, Prince Philesteus and plain old-fashioned luck.

"Very well, gentlemen. I think it's time we stopped talking and prepared to start shooting. Oh, Harmakros!"

"Your Majesty?"

"If any of your tame Sastragathi take Prince Philesteus' head as a trophy, don't let them bring it to me!

"Here they come again," General Hestophes said. He wasn't quite as calm as he was pretending to be; Kalvan noticed that the pipe in his mouth was not only unlit but upside down.

The new Harphaxi attack seemed to be aimed at what Hestophes called Barn Hill, at the northern end of his position. Six guns and a thousand infantry held the slopes around the half-ruined barn; three thousand more and the cavalry held the saddle stretching diagonally from northwest to southeast. The southeastern anchor of Hestophes' position, where Kalvan now sat on his horse, was referred to as Tavern Hill, for the stone-walled inn that crowned it. Another thousand infantry and the other six cannon held the slopes or crouched behind loopholes knocked in the walls of the tavern itself. The ones in the upper-floor windows and on the roof had an excellent view of the lower slopes of Tavern Hill, strewn with the dead and dying from the first two Harphaxi attacks.

The third attack looked like about five hundred cavalry and a thousand infantry, wearing yellow sashes and plumes, carrying the flag of Hos-Harphax—a gold double-headed axe surrounded by a circle of eighteen stars on a red field, each star representing one of the princedoms that made up the Great Kingdom of Hos-Harphax. Only the flag was obsolete; more than a third of the stars depicted were now represented within the Army of Hos-Hostigos.

Most of the infantry were arquebusiers and assorted skirmishers with halberds, poleaxes, bills, glaives and various polearms sticking up at random intervals. Kalvan swore he even saw a long-handled scythe or two! This must have been how it looked when the first Roundheads went up against King Charles, before Cromwell turned them into the New Model Army.

They were marching raggedly enough, but they were also marching out of the range of the guns on Tavern Hill, with the additional shelter of a fold in the ground topped by a low stone wall.

Out of the dust behind the cavalry came three Harphaxi gun teams, turning toward the wall with the gunners jumping down from the horses or running up behind. The guns looked to be twelve and eighteen-pounders, great clumsy iron-hooped things that probably weighed more than a Hostigi brass sixteen-pounder and once off their traveling carriages would be about as mobile as the Rock of Gibraltar. However, they could reach the pikemen in Hestophes' center, who would have to stand there in massed formation and take their shot or risk inviting a cavalry charge.

Correction: they would have had to stand there and take it, except that when Kalvan came up to visit Hestophes he also brought a thirteenth gun. It was the newest of the sixteen-pounders, which Uncle Wolf Tharses had honored with the name
Galzar's Teeth
.

"May they be sharp," Hestophes said, as he looked back at the gunners digging the big piece into position.

Kalvan grinned. "I've heard it said that thirteen people at one table is unlucky. I've never heard that thirteen guns on one position is."

"If so, Your Majesty, it will only be unlucky for the Harphaxi."

From behind came a shout, Colonel Alkides trying to be respectful to his superiors even when they insisted on standing in his line of fire. The generals and their escorts shifted twenty yards to the left, then another twenty as the gunner shouted even louder. Finally there was a thunderous roar as
Galzar's Teeth
fired its first shot in action.

Here-and-now gunners hadn't had good enough field guns to learn the trick of aiming short and letting the shot ricochet into its target. Even if they had, the soft ground at the foot of the rise might have defeated them, the way it had Napoleon's gunners at Waterloo. However, the slight downgrade helped. The sixteen-pound ball fell short but kept rolling fast enough to smash through the stone wall to the right of the enemy guns.

Stone dust and bits flew. The enemy artillerymen didn't even bother to look up. Mercenaries, undoubtedly—the Harphaxi artillery was even more of a joke than the rest of their army—but a good grade of mercenary. Kalvan mentally noted a need to find out their names and, if they were captured, to try and recruit them.

The artillery duel went on for a good ten minutes with a minimum of damage on either side. Several Harphaxi shot flew over the mercenary arquebusiers to the left of the First Foot and rolled back down into their ranks. Kalvan saw one damned fool of a new recruit stick out a foot to try stopping one of the rolling shot; a moment later he was on the ground with his foot missing, screaming loudly enough to make his comrades back away. Hestophes looked back at the crew of
Galzar's Teeth
with a get-your-act-together-
now
expression on his face.

Whether inspired or intimidated, the gunners succeeded. Their next shot fell close to the leftward enemy gun and must have done some damage, because the next time it fired the carriage split apart. With their own piece useless, its crew shifted to the other two guns, increasing their rate of fire. A couple of stone balls landed among Queen Rylla's Foot. Unlike the mercenaries, they held steady until the wounded were carried away, then closed ranks. Kalvan mentally noted down their Colonel for a commendation.
Time for something like the Presidential Unit Citation for regiments that did particularly well.
 

In the next moment
Galzar's Teeth
slammed a roundshot squarely into the muzzle of the enemy's left-hand gun. It burst apart like an exploding boiler, and something hot must have skipped into an open fireseed barrel, because there was a crashing roar and a tremendous cloud of white smoke. When the smoke cleared away, both guns were wrecked and most of their gunners down; Kalvan saw riders in the cavalry of the attacking column struggling to control their spooked mounts.

"Good shooting!" Hestophes cried. "One could wish they'd done that sooner, but big guns are like women. They need careful handling and long familiarity before you can be sure they'll do what you want them to do." From the pained look on the General's face, Hestophes appeared to be speaking from personal experience on both topics.

Kalvan rode over to the gun to praise the shooting and to give the gunners ten Crowns with which to celebrate after the battle, while Hestophes organized his counterattack by the four Royal regiments. By the time Kalvan returned, three regiments were on their way downhill in alternating companies of pike and shot. Queen Rylla's Foot formed a column on the left and a skirmish line of three mercenary arquebusier companies was out in front.

"The wall ends on the left and the ground is firmer there," Hestophes said. "Any cavalry charge will come in there. "I'm going to take the First and Second Regiment of Horse down to where they can support Queen Rylla's Foot, and meanwhile stiffen those mercenaries who don't like hearing the cries of wounded men."

Major Nicomoth suddenly seemed to have developed an exceptionally severe case of the lice that had infested everybody in the last few days. Kalvan and Hestophes exchanged looks, then Kalvan smiled. "All right, Major. You may take thirty of the Royal Horseguards and ride with Hestophes, as long as you swear to obey him as you would me."

"With my life, Your Majesty."

Kalvan watched the cavalry forming up with the thought that Nicomoth was the classic well-born young cavalry officer who knew to perfection two of the operations of war: charging gallantly and dying gallantly. Kalvan liked the young officer, but would cheerfully have traded twenty of him for one more professional soldier like Harmakros, Hestophes or Count Phrames—who were about the sum total of
real
professional officers in the Royal Army. A pity that none of them had the rank to command the Army of the Besh, particularly Hestophes, who wasn't even a noble, just the son of a tavern owner in Hostigos Town.

That, at least, could be remedied. It would have to be remedied, in fact; Hestophes had been a colonel-equivalent at the Narza Gap, doing a major-general's job, and there'd been some grumbling about a commoner holding such an honorable post—mostly from Baron Sthentros and that crowd.
The Quisling faction, that's what I call them,
thought Kalvan. He kept wishing they'd do something overt so that he could hang the lot of them, or at least, stash them in the dungeon of Tarr-Hostigos—they'd make good company for the castle rats.

Skranga had half a dozen operatives keeping an eye on them to see if they made contact with any of Styphon's House's agents. Sadly, Skranga's spies had nothing to report, other than the usual dirty laundry: assignations with mistresses, tax fraud—almost a hobby here-and-now—bullying the servants and the occasional drunken brawl—pretty much standard fare for here-and-now nobility.

Well, if Hestophes finished off today's assignment and was still alive tomorrow, he'd be a Baron. Invest him with Tarr-Hyllos, there's a vacant seat there since the local baron's death during the action at Listra-Mouth. With the advantage that it's next door to Sthentros' barony. Plus, it would solve the problem of having him obeyed; Chartiphon had started from a lot farther down and nobody questioned his orders since Ptosphes ennobled him.

Handing out goodies to men who'd done well was one of the perks of being a Great King, a reward that sometimes
almost
made up for the headaches.

There was a sound like distant thunder when the Hostigi regiments stopped short of the soft ground, and the arquebusiers and musketeers of the three lines let fly almost seven hundred strong. Two more volleys and a couple of shots from
Galzar's Teeth
, and the Harphaxi were edging away toward Barn Hill and into range of
its
guns. Two salvos from those, and the Harphaxi infantry didn't even wait for the mercenaries on the hill to advance toward them. They retreated, not quite as a rabble but certainly as a unit with most of the pepper and a couple of hundred men shaken out of it.