"Bring bows!" shouted their commander. He was lacing on his armor, and having trouble with the task. He'd been sound asleep when the alarm was sounded, and was still feeling confused.
"Bring bows!" he shrieked again.
His men hurried to obey. The bows were kept in the barracks. And the ogre was not in the barracks.
Their commander gaped at the little flood of soldiers pouring back into the barracks.
"Not all of you! You-you-"
He collapsed to the ground. Even if he'd had his armor on properly, the arrow protruding from his chest would have punched right through it.
The few soldiers who hadn't returned to the barracks stared at the sight. Then, at the traitors positioned behind the wagon across the gatehouse entrance.
"The ogre has a bow!" screamed one of them. "Ogre has a bow!"
All but one of them made it back into the barracks. The sluggard remained pinned to the doorway, by another arrow that struck…
Exactly the way you'd expect an ogre's arrow to strike. Went all the way through him and would have passed on completely except it hit the door post.
"Great big thing, too," muttered one of the soldiers, peeking out of a barracks window. "Way bigger than ours."
"Which gate?" shrieked Skandagupta. " Which gate? Speak plainly, damn you! "
The emperor was still muddle-headed with sleep. Dangerous at any time, he was positively venomous at times like this.
The general commanding the city's garrison wasn't sure of the answer himself. But what he said, very firmly and confidently, was: "Both gates, Your Majesty. The main attack seems to be coming at the north gate, however. Damodara himself is said to be leading the charge there."
That was true enough. Well. Probably. From the battlements, using telescopes, sentries had seen the rebel would-be emperor's pavilion being struck, and a surge of his soldiers toward the northern gate. A contingent of Ye-tai was leading the way, probably led by Toramana himself.
A slow surge, to be sure, except for the Ye-tai vanguard. Nothing like the charge being made by the Rajputs toward the southern gate. But that latter could be a feint.
"Then get yourself to the northern gate!" shrilled the emperor. "At once! Or I'll have your head for my collection! You coward! You stinking-"
"I obey, Your Majesty!" The general could safely take that shrieking imprecation for a royal dismissal. He was out of the audience chamber before the emperor had stopped cursing him.
He'd never felt such relief heading for a desperate battle in his life.
By the time the lieutenant who succeeded to command in the barracks could chivvy his soldiers out into the small square facing the gatehouse, another sound could be heard. Like a distant thunder, approaching. The sound of horses, and men shouting.
Rajiv understood the words before anyone else did.
Rajputana. And, also, the name of his father, chanted like a battle cry.
Rana Sanga.
His father was coming. Would be here within a minute or two. He and his warriors would come through that gate like an avalanche of steel.
His bow in hand and an arrow notched, Rajiv stared at the soldiers assembling fearfully in the square. In a minute, perhaps two, they would be swept from existence. Men he knew. Men whose wives and children he knew.
"It is not honorable," he murmured.
"What was that, boy?" asked Anastasius.
"It is not bearable," he added, still murmuring.
"Speak up, if you've got something to say!"
Rajiv removed the arrow from the bowstring. Still holding the bow, he sprang onto the wagon before the entrance. Then, with two steps and a sure-footed leap, sprang off the wagon onto the hard-packed dirt of the square beyond.
"What the hell are you doing?" Anastasius bellowed.
Rajiv ignored him. He advanced toward the soldiers some forty yards away. The bow was still in his left hand, positioned as it should be. But he was now holding up the arrow as if it were a sword.
"Stop!" he cried. "I am Rajiv, a prince of Rajputana! Son of Rana Sanga!"
One of the soldiers in the front rank squinted at him. Abhay, that was. He had a son Rajiv's age, and a very pretty daughter about a year older. She'd been the source of new thoughts for Rajiv, in fact. New and rather unsettling ones.
"Rajiv? Rajiv?"
"Yes, Abhay! It is Rajiv!"
Still walking toward them, he pointed back at the opening gate with the arrow. "My father is coming! Listen, and you can hear!"
All the soldiers stopped moving, and froze.
Sure enough. Coming louder and louder:
Rana Sanga! Rajputana!
Worse yet:
Death to Skandagupta!
And they were Skandagupta's men.
Rajiv now raised the arrow high, as if it held a banner.
"Swear fealty to me! Swear it now!"
Valentinian emerged from the gate tower. "All right, Anastasius. Get up there and- what is that crazy kid doing?"
Anastasius shook his head.
Ajatasutra came out also, in time to hear the exchange. After peering at the sight of Rajiv confronting the soldiers in the square, that familiar mocking smile came to his hawk face.
"Rajput prince. What do you expect?"
"Swear it now!"
His voice broke-that too was new-and Rajiv silently cursed all new things.
He was even thinking about Abhay's daughter! Now-of all times!
Abhay looked at the soldier next to him. As if it were the first pebble in a cascade, that look passed from one soldier to the next.
The new commander saw, and cursed also. Not silently, however.
"Damn all traitors!" he shouted, pushing his way forward, spear in hand.
"All my efforts," Valentinian hissed. "Gone to waste. Ungrateful fucking stupid worthless brat."
The commander came out of the mass of soldiers, at a charge, his spear leveled.
Rajiv notched and fired the arrow in a movement so swift and sure not even Valentinian could really follow it. The commander fell dead, perhaps a foot of the shaft protruding from his throat.
"Well," said Valentinian. "Maybe not all."
"Swear it NOW!"
The sound of shrieking Rajput voices coming from beyond the walls was almost deafening.
But what decided Abhay, in the end, was not that. It was the thunderous sound-more deafening still-of thousands of galloping horses.
He was afraid of horses. Had been, ever since he was kicked by one as a boy. The other soldiers teased him about it.
He, too, lunged forward. But with his spear held crossways, not in the killing thrust his commander had tried.
"I swear, Rajiv! I swear!" He fell to his knees, the spear still held crossways. "I swear!"
It took not more than ten seconds before all the soldiers from the barracks were on their knees beside him, swearing likewise.
"On your feet!" Rajiv bellowed. Tried to, rather. His voice broke again.
He pointed with the bow. "Line up against the wall of the barracks! In good ranks, you hear? Your spears in hand-but held at standing rest!"
They'd be safe enough there, he thought. The square was small, true, but the portion in front of the barracks was something in the way of an offset little plaza. They wouldn't simply be trampled. And their families within the barracks would be safer still.