“Your regiment still was holding the point of embarkation on the north bank when last we fought these Kuhmbuhluhners, colonel, but surely you are aware of how very close they came to breaching our hedge last autumn. They are the most dangerous foe we have come across in many a long decade, and God is to be thanked that there are so few of them. But, few as there now are, were we to give those feisty bastards such an opening, I doubt me not they’d be rolling up one or the other of our wings from inside out in a trice, and more than your pikemen’s feet would become cold and stay that way with bellies full of steel and all their blood run out.”
The old man paused, and, prominent Adam’s apple working, he downed a good half of his pint jack of beer. Sir Djaimz, the senior colonel, chose this moment to say a few words, hoping to soothe some of the sting of his superior’s bitterly sarcastic comments.
“Colonel Potter, we all of us recognize and appreciate your insistent solicitude for the welfare of your pikemen. It is an attitude that all of your peers and subordinates would do well to emulate. But Brigadier Sir Ahrthur has given the matter his usual well-thought-out planning and rigorous attention to details. He and the earl and I have discussed this projected action at great length, and the course he has recently outlined to you all is the sum of our mutual thoughts. However, as no man or group of men can ever hope to be all-knowing, we still remain open to suggestions ... ?”
The officer so addressed drew his big-boned, beefy frame up to its full five-foot-six and said, a bit hesitantly, “Well ... ahhh. Well, why not fill the streambed with stones and overlay them with planks or adzed-flat tree boles, eh? Not only would the ranks have a firm, relatively dry footing, but they’d be a bit above the horsemen.”
“Which would also put them a bit above the flanking units,” put in another of the assembled officers, “thereby making the hedge uneven and vulnerable at the two joints. Besides, what you suggest would serve to dam the brook and turn what little level ground exists into a quagmire of cold mud.”
Colonel Potter shrugged. “What of it, sir? We could just form up a short distance north of that soft ground, then. It would certainly slow any cavalry charge at our front and might even necessitate that these Kuhmbuhluhners dismount and come at us afoot.”
“You had better hope and earnestly pray, colonel, that such as that never happens,” intoned the brigadier solemnly. “Get it through your head, man, these Kuhmbuhluhners are not the speedy lancers and lightly armed foot of the Ohyoh folk; rather do they war in full—or, at worst, three-quarter—plate armor. And on those thankfully rare—else none of us would be here today!—occasions when our formations have been broken in hand-to-hand combat, it was done by just such as these folk, on foot.”
“But ... but, Sir Ahrthur,” yelped one of the youngest of the assembly, “save for the cowardly attacks of bowmen or dartmen or slingers, our hedges are invulnerable in the defense and invincible on the attack. Everyone knows that.”
The brigadier briefly showed worn teeth. “Whose puppy are you, youngster? Oh, one of Colonel Alpine’s aides, eh? Well, spout that sort of propaganda to the other ranks as often as they’ll stand still for it, but if you start believing it yourself, I doubt me you’ll live long enough for your voice to finish changing.
“Invulnerable? Pah! Invincible? Twiddle! Were we either, why do you think we are not still living on our rich, hard-won lands up in the Ohyoh country, instead of hunkering on stony mountains and making ready to fight for such poor land, atop it all? Our entire racial history, ever since the Greeks drove our ancestors out of their rightful homes, has been a succession of fight-win-hold for a while, then fight-lose and move on to fight again.
“We have honed our skills over the generations, developed new ones in some cases, and that we average more wins than losses is the sole reason we still exist as a people. But never ever doubt for one minute that we are vulnerable, my boy, for we are, we are terribly vulnerable—lightly armored foot soldiers always are.”
“This is probably no time to broach the matter,” put in Colonel Bruce Farr, “but with all the armor we captured at the fortress-valley or have stripped off slain or wounded foemen in the last few campaigns, we could easily have put at least the first two or three ranks in half- or even three-quarter-armor, as we did the short-polemen and the horsemen. Instead, most of that fine armor lies baled up or locked in chests awaiting God knows what, while our pikemen still do their fighting in nothing more than breastplates, ring-sewn gauntlets, steel caps and boots fitted with horn splints for greaves.
“Now, I know, I know, I’ve heard it all before. It’s a tradition that Skohshun pikemen need no walls about their towns or armor on their bodies, the pike hedge serving for both. But how many dead and maimed pikemen has this hoary, overhallowed tradition cost us over the years, brigadier?”
The old officer heaved himself to his feet with a crackling of joints and, as he strode stiff-leggedly toward the entry, said, “Would you care to answer the good colonel, Sir Djaimz? My bladder seems to shrink with increasing age.”
The senior colonel nodded to his superior, then said, “Look you, Colonel Farr, one of the dearest values of Scotian pikemen is that, in formation mind you, they can move almost as fast as mounted heavy horse, but they would lose this definite advantage were we to weigh them all down with upward of fifty pounds of steel. Nor could our pikemen rapidly withdraw burdened with even half-armor. As all here know, they are neither trained for nor expected to engage in breast-to-breast encounters; that’s what the horsemen and the short-pole-men are for. They are expected to be simply one more thorn in the hedge, doing what damage they do at a distance of no less than twelve feet from the foe, and if the hedge be sundered and cannot be speedily closed, they are expected to drop their pikes and withdraw as rapidly as possible, not try to take on armored and/or mounted foemen with a shortsword and a breastplate alone for weapon and protection. No new pike hedges can be fashioned of dead heroes.
“However, Colonel Farr, you may well be the voice of our future, do we stay hereabouts. The armaments and tactics I have just detailed were fashioned in and for the flatter, less forested terrain of those lands we just quitted. Maneuver on any broad scale is difficult if not impossible of successful accomplishment amid these thick-grown hills and stony mountains and narrow, twisting little vales. Does tomorrow’s battle not win these lands for us, perhaps we will find it expedient to sacrifice unneeded speed for needed protection and put our pikemen in more steel.”
Beyond the yellow-red glow of the bright-lit tents of the noblemen and officers, lulled by the powerful soporifics of a long march, a heavy meal and extra beer rations, those of the Skohshun pikemen not guarding the perimeter or laboring in the vale slept deeply. Most of them were veterans, and battles and battle eves were nothing new to them—if they proved destined to die on the morrow, then die they would; if not, then life would go on.
The long pikes and the other polearms of each battalion stood stacked about the huge, thick pole of the unit device. The polished hardwood of the hafts reflected the wind-whipped light of the torches and watchfires, but most of the steel points were far above that guttering light so that only the occasional rising errant spark brought a glint in the bright white steel.