Uncertainly, Declan said, "That was the position and deployment of the raiders as I saw them early this morning, and what I consider to be their intentions regarding the caravan. I think I know what should be done about them, but… I'm sorry, sir, I seem to have said something to anger you."
It was a moment before Achmed found his voice. 'The tale you tell angers me, Hibernian," he said, "not the teller. Are you quite certain of the number of men and beasts that you saw? Do you perhaps add drama to the tale with a storyteller's exaggeration?"
Declan shook his head. "I told of those I could see clearly enough to count. There may have been more of them concealed by their dust cloud. Are a few more raiders an important consideration?"
It was obvious from his expression that Achmed was too angry for an exchange of conversation. Instead he snapped at his lieutenant, "Explain it to him. Tell him everything."
Bashir nodded, took a deep breath and said, 'There have been rumors that something like this was being planned against us. They are not desert raiders but a force sent by a neighboring sheik who is our enemy but not yet ready or brave enough to declare open war. The caravanserai is too well-defended for them to risk an attack on it, so instead they must intend to rob the caravan while killing everyone who might link them to the crime. No right-thinking person would suppose that we had anything to do with it, but our good reputation for ensuring a safe passage through our lands would come into question, the merchants would seek an alternative and probably riskier path for their caravans, and we would lose an important source of revenue. In time this would force us to abandon and destroy the caravanserai to forbid its use by our enemies…"
Prince Achmed silenced his lieutenant with an upraised hand. He used the same hand to indicate the map and said, "How would a Hibernian warrior solve this problem?"
"With a surprise attack from the eastern flank, here," Declan replied. Trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice he went on, "You have many men here who are rested and, perhaps, bored with inaction. If they were to…"
The hand was raised again. "We would be fighting a pitched battle against an enemy with superior numbers," Achmed said. "If we were to lose it, the camel train and the caravanserai would be captured and I, if I survived, would no longer be my father's favorite son. Half my force must remain here to defend and maintain my establishment and the other half, if I was to do as you suggest, would be outnumbered three to one. The casualties would be heavy indeed, and we might save only a few camel loads and even fewer of my men. You are a young hothead and your solution is too costly in blood."
"With respect, you are wrong, sir," said Declan, ignoring Bashir's shocked expression at a stranger suggesting that his prince was something less than omniscient. He turned back to the wall map and went on, "My intention would be to set an ambush for them, here, here, and here, by allowing them to move southward past our positions, and wait until they have taken their places in the hills along the camel track where they will wait until the entire caravan is in view. Depending on the lie of the land and the speed with which we can get into position, we will either surprise them from behind or make a flanking attack from the east out of the rising sun. If our movements are fast and precise, that is, if they are guided into place by someone who knows the area, and if I am allowed to instruct them in methods of fighting unfamiliar here, and if they can remain steady of mind rather than going into a frenzy of rage in the face of a close enemy, and they do exactly as they have been told, half of your men should be enough and there will be a successful outcome with few losses."
Bashir cleared his throat noisily and said, "You must not tell wildly optimistic stories to the prince…" he made a small bow toward Achmed, "… who depends on me for military advice. Describe to us in full, if you can, the arcane forms of combat they use in Hibernia that enable you to fight a battle without a butcher's bill of dead and dying? Declan, the idea is preposterous."
Declan sighed in relief, glad that the other had stopped short of calling him a liar and thus avoided the complications of offended honor that the accusation would have caused, and said, "Time is short. With your permission, sir, I would like to explain everything to the men as well as yourselves before they set out on their night march-"
"A night march!" Bashir broke in. "You have already ridden all day and now you're going to spend the night…"
"Sleeping," said Declan. "At least, for the next few hours, then I will catch up on the men before sunrise. But someone with a good knowledge of the ground will have to accompany them and place them in the attack positions."
Achmed gave his lieutenant a long, questioning look, the significance of which was lost on Declan, and received a nod and a smile in return. As Bashir was turning to go he said, "I will be pleased to do that service for you. But now I will pick and assemble the best men for our purpose and you must come with me to explain your tactics and to exhort them to deeds of wild Hibernian bravery."
"Before you go," said Achmed, standing up and revealing his true girth and height, "I wish you to carry my own weapon for the day…" from the wall behind him he took down a long, curved sword whose broad blade was wider at the tip than at the jeweled hilt and held it out to Declan in the palms of both hands,"… because your gladius is unsuitable for fighting on horseback. Bear it with honor and success. Much as I would like to accompany you, there is not a horse that could carry me and even the legs of a camel would buckle under my weight. You have no time to waste on further conversation with me before you set out, so speak loudly to the men so that I will overhear and learn your plan. After which you will take the rest you need. Go, now."
"Thank you, sir," said Declan, accepting the weapon and stepping back so that he could swing the hilt up to his face in salute. "I shall wear and use it with honor."
The sword was hanging from his belt, his other weapons had been returned to him, and they were descending the stairs to the enclosure before the lieutenant spoke again. Considering the surprising nature of his words, Bashir's tone was completely without rancor.
"You wear it," he said, "because in this enterprise I know where I'm going but, unlike you, I do not know what to do when we get there. You wear the personal weapon of my master for all to see because you, Declan, have been placed in joint command of this operation."
–
The eastern sky was showing a dark hazy stripe of gray and there was no slightest breath of wind when Declan reached the place where he should have overtaken the men on foot, but there was no trace of them until a man's low voice called out to him.
"Effendi? The Hibernian warrior?"
"Yes," said Declan, moving his mount closer to a slightly darker patch of darkness. "Who are you and where are the others?"
"I am the favored bowman, Mareth," the other replied softly. 'The riders were making such good time that Bashir said they could afford to slow their progress by allowing my bowmen to share the mounts. I was left behind to continue on foot so as to guide you in case you became lost."
Declan knew a hint when he heard one. Freeing a stirrup so that the other could climb on he reached down with one hand into the darkness. "Ride behind me and hold on tight."
"My thanks, effendi," said Mareth.
The man was thin and wiry under his burnoose so that the horse accepted the extra load without complaint. He barely spoke except to give occasional directions, and when Declan tried to start a conversation to relieve the tedium of the ride, the other reminded him respectfully that on a still night voices carried a long way in the desert.