“Did you tell your suspicions to this brigadier, Erica? Over,” asked Corbett, thinking that if the senior Skohshun officer happened to feel himself in Erica’s debt, he might let her and the others go without a fight.
“Oh, yes, I tried to,” she answered wryly. “The arrogant old pig, he let me know that he considers war to be an exercise in machismo and that the only function of women is to bear sons to fight wars and, just possibly, nurse wounded soldiers. I hope he gets the ferrule end of a pike jammed up his arse today!”
One good look at the “porcupine” formations in which the Skohshuns were formed this day warned Bili of the folly of once more essaying the dismounted attack with the nets. Not only did the pikes now project in all four directions, the ranks were formed around a spine of men better armored and armed with an assortment of shorter, handier weapons—poleaxes, beef-tongues, partizans, greatswords and various types of flails and war hammers. Such troops would make bloody mincemeat of such an attack as Bili and his squadron had so successfully undertaken at the previous battle.
So he adopted the favored tactic of the late King Byruhn—leading his horsemen at a fast ambling gait along the front of the four schiltrons, while the Kuhmbuhluhn mountaineers cast their deadly little hatchets and the Ahrmehnee of his own squadron cast their equally deadly darts. On those occasions when the Skohshuns armed with the shorter weapons ventured out to close, Bili refused them combat, galloping his force off beyond their range at a pace too fast for them to follow afoot.
When the axes and javelins were expended, he mindspoke Captain Frehd Brakit and the archers commenced their deadly rain on the scantily armored pikemen—Freefighters with their short, powerful hornbows, Kuhmbuhluhners with hardwood self-bows as long as the archers were tall, loosing arrows three feet in length and tipped with tempered steel.
Twice during this phase of the battle, units of mounted and armored Skohshun lancers made to charge the lines of dismounted bowmen who were wreaking such deadly havoc on the helpless schiltrons. But each time these Skohshuns were met and bloodily stopped in their tracks by Bili and a portion of his heavy-armed squadron, reinforced by the Kuhmbuhluhn nobles.
As the archers expended their initial stocks of arrows and slacked off their death-dealing sleet of shafts, an armored man bearing an unpointed lanceshaft from which fluttered a white banner paced his horse slowly forward into the empty, hoof-churned space between the two forces. A brace of other armored horsemen followed him.
Recognizing the horses if not the riders at the distance, Bili sent Captain Sir Fil Tyluh out ahead with a white banner of his own and followed behind him with Lieutenant Kahndoot, who had happened to be the closest officer to hand.
Vainly hoping to stave off another confrontation between the seething brigadier and Duke Bili of Morguhn, Sir Djahn spoke first and fast. “Your grace, Sir Ahrthur is of the opinion that you are in violation of the agreements as regards this set battle. Not only are you deliberately avoiding any contact with our main force, but you are employing most dishonorable means to whittle away at men who have no chance to defend themselves or to strike back at those who are killing them. Do you intend to close, to press a charge through to the pikes? If so, when?”
Bili could scarce credit his ears, could hardly believe that any sane warrior would speak such arrant nonsense to another. “When will I charge, Sir Djahn? When it suits me to do so, that’s when, and not until I can see that it will be to my advantage to press home a charge. Do you seriously believe that I led these men out here to let your pikemen butcher them? Spear them like so many fish? You yourself have admitted that your troops outnumber mine own, I’m simply evening those odds a bit. If that upsets your delicate sensibilities, why, then, I suggest that you form up your men in column and march them all back behind yonder stockade, whilst I and mine return behind the walls of New Kuhmbuhluhnburk. Perhaps you will feel better after you’ve wasted a few more hundreds of men against those walls, in a couple of days ... if I haven’t pounded and burned your camp, meanwhile.
“Now, do you want to fight a battle or sit here talking for the rest of this day?”
The brigadier could abide no more silently; he kneed his gelding forward and stared hard at Bili as he addressed Sir Djahn. “Fagh! I told you it would be an exercise in utter futility. to speak of honor to this puling thief; I doubt me he ever knew the meaning of the word, and I cannot but wonder if this King Byruhn knows just what sort of scoundrel he has hired and placed in command of his army. Perhaps we should declare a truce, Sir Djahn, while you ride up there and try to determine if this cowardly kind of warfare be the will of the true ruler of New Kuhmbuhluhn.”
Fil Tyluh spoke before Bili could. “Sir Ahrthur, poor King Byruhn died of his injuries last night. Until a new king is chosen, since he was the last of his house, New Kuhmbuhluhn’s regent is Sir Bili, Duke of Morguhn. So the royal council has declared this morning.”
Hurriedly, still trying to prevent the inevitable, Sir Djahn said, “Your grace, I never met your late king but the once; nonetheless, I grieve with you and all of New Kuhmbuhluhn.”
“Well, I don’t!” snapped the brigadier hotly. “I hope he’s roasting in hell with the rest of the heathen! And I demand to know why this treacherous, backbiting mercenary bastard never mentioned to Sir Djahn during the negotiations for this so-called battle his intentions to not come to grips and fight breast to breast as honorable warriors should, as the late king’s predecessor did, but to avoid real fighting in a most craven manner, while using the weapons of dishonor—bows, darts, slings and throwing axes—against his betters.”
Bili looked speculatively at the snarling, red-faced old man. At last, he said, “Sir Ahrthur, either you are a complete ass and a fool or you think that I am such. To answer your first question: I told Sir Djahn that I would use every arm, every advantage in my possession or power to command, saving only that I would not employ my engines during the course of this battle, either against your formations or your camp.
“Now, if he or you chose to interpret that answer to mean that I would leave my missilemen—my archers, my dartmen, my axe throwers and my slingers—behind, as did poor, bemused old King Mahrtuhn, such was your choice of possible meaning.
“You carry on and on about fighting breast to breast, yet both King Mahrtuhn and Prince Mahrtuhn Gilbuht died without getting any closer to any of you Skohshuns that the length of an eighteen-foot pikeshaft. What honor in such a death, say I? You were able to delude an aging and nearly senile man and lead him on to his death with such hypocritic claptrap, but not Bili, Thoheeks and Chief of Morguhn and Knight of the Blue Bear of Harzburk.
“If all you spout out is to be taken at face value, then you are at the best a fool and should be locked away with the rest of the madmen, not left to command anyone’s army. War is not a game, to be played by strict rules or not played at all. War is something to be avoided at all costs, except when it becomes a necessity. When it does become necessary, it is something akin to lancing a boil—you do it hard and quick and with all available force, so that it is the sooner done and men can return to the pursuits of peace.
“If, on the other hand, you are the cynical hypocrite I suspect you are—and if you are an average representative of your race—one who mouths the usages of honor in a self-serving attempt to rob war leaders of their natural advantages, warriors of their lives and folk of their lands, then I feel you all to be even more despicable than the Ganiks, the men who eat men, or than certain Ehleen rebels who butchered little children and drank their blood!