“Why you?”
“For ten years he’d been teaching me about war. There’s a Redeemer school just for this. There are about two hundred of us-we’re called the Workings. I’m the best.”
“Modest of you.”
“I am the best. Modesty has nothing to say about it.”
“Go on.”
“I decided after a few weeks to rule out a surprise attack. I like surprises-as a tactic, I mean-but not this time.”
“I don’t understand. This is a surprise attack.”
“No, it isn’t. For a hundred years the Redeemers have been fighting the Antagonists-mostly it’s trench warfare and mostly now it’s stalemate. The trenches have stayed pretty much where they are for a dozen years. It needs something new to break the stalemate, but the Redeemers don’t like anything new. They have a law which allows a Redeemer to kill an acolyte on the spot if he does something unexpected. But Bosco is different; he was always thinking, and one of the things he thought was that I was different and he could make use of me.”
“How will attacking us break the stalemate with the Antagonists?”
“I couldn’t really work it out either. So I asked him.”
“And?”
“Nothing. He just gave me a good beating. So I got on with what he told me to do. The thing is, why I didn’t think surprise would work against the Materazzi is because they don’t fight like anyone else-not like the Redeemers, not like the Antagonists. The Redeemers don’t have cavalry to speak of, and no armor. Bowmen are central to the Redeemers. You barely use them. Our siege engines were huge and clumsy, each one built on the site of every siege. You must have four hundred towns and cities with walls five times thicker than anything the Redeemers were used to.”
“Two of the siege trebuchets used at York failed, but they burned all four. Why?”
“They broke through the walls on the first day, isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes.”
“They tested a new weapon in a real battle against a new kind of enemy a long way from home. So even if two broke down, the other two worked.”
“But two didn’t.”
“Then make them better-that’s what all this is for.”
“Meaning what?”
“There’s no point in surprising your enemy on their terms and in their territory if you can’t be sure of destroying them quickly. Bosco was always beating me because he said I took too many unnecessary risks. Not here. I knew the Redeemers weren’t ready, that we…” He corrected himself, “that they needed to wage a short campaign, learn as much about how the Materazzi fought, how good their weapons and armor were, and then withdraw. Show me a map.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I’m here and I’m telling you what happened, aren’t I? We could have just legged it.”
“Suppose this, what you’re telling me, is just fake honesty, and Bosco is pulling your strings and has been all along.”
Cale laughed.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll use it one day. Show me the map.”
“Nothing,” said Vipond after a moment, “is to leave this office.”
“Who’d listen to me but you anyway?”
“A good point-but for the avoidance of doubt, if anyone else finds out that you were a part of this, you’ll get a rope for a reward.” Vipond went over to a shelf on the far side of the room and removed a roll of thick paper. He looked at Cale very directly as he came back to his desk, as if this would make any difference to someone who had spent his entire life hiding his thoughts. Then he made up his mind for good or ill and unrolled it on the desktop, weighing down the edges with Venetian glass paperweights and a copy of The Melancholy Prince, of all books his favorite. Cale looked over the map with an intense concentration quite different from anything Vipond had seen from him before. For the next half an hour he answered Cale’s detailed questions about the sites of the four attacks and the strengths and dispositions of soldiers. Then he stopped and for ten minutes studied the map in silence.
“I want a drink of water,” said Cale. The water was duly brought and he drank it in one go.
“Well?”
“The Materazzi have walled towns and cities. I knew that without much lighter siege engines that could easily be moved from city to city we might just as well blow trumpets and expect the walls to come tumbling down. I told Bosco that the Pontifical Engineers would need to build something much lighter than we had and make them easy to put up and take down.”
“And you designed this yourself?”
“Me? No. I don’t know anything about that stuff. I just knew what was needed.”
“But he didn’t tell you he agreed, that he was actually going to put your plan into action.”
“No. When I heard about the attacks at first, I thought I was going… you know…” He made several circling motions around his head. “A bit loony.”
“But you’re not.”
“Me? Sound as a bell. Anyway, they learned what they needed to learn at York and that’s why they left and took the three Materazzi with them-they wanted the armor, not the men. It’ll be halfway to the Sanctuary by now, with the engineers waiting to give it a good going over.”
“You took a beating at Fort Invincible.”
“Not me, the Redeemers.”
“You refer to them as we sometimes.”
“Force of habit, Boss.”
“All right, then, your plan took a hammering at Fort Invincible.”
“Not really-just bad luck. The Materazzi didn’t intend to attack them from the rear, they just happened to be returning at the wrong time-for the Redeemers, anyway. If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans-isn’t that what the Memphis moneylenders say?”
“You’re supposed to have a parole to get into the Ghetto.”
“Nobody told me.”
“You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself.”
“I’m still alive, if that’s what you mean.”
“I still say it all went wrong at Fort Invincible.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“How so?”
“How many Redeemers dead?”
“Two and a half thousand-thereabouts.”
“They fought your cavalry twice and the rest of them got away. They were there to see what you were made of, not to win a battle.”
“And Port Collard.”
“You call it Little Memphis. Why is that?”
“It was built in a natural harbor very like the bay here. The city was built along the same lines. The layout worked once-provincials like to copy things…” He stopped in midsentence. “I see. Yes.” He sighed heavily and sneezed. “Excuse me. So what happens next?”
Cale shrugged.
“I know what was in the plan next-it doesn’t mean that’s what they’re going to do.”
“Why shouldn’t they? It’s been reasonably successful so far.”
“Better than that-just successful. They’ve got everything I planned for.”
There was an unpleasant silence. Surprisingly it was Cale who broke it. “I’m sorry; the sin of pride is very great in me, according to Bosco.”
“Is he wrong?”
“Probably not.”
“Do you know this Princeps?”
“I met him once. He was the military governor along the northern seaboard then. There’s no trench warfare there, it’s all mountains and stuff. That’s why he’s running this campaign, because he’s the best they’ve got at fighting with an army on the move-and he’s thick with Bosco, though from what I can gather he’s not too popular elsewhere.”
“Do you know why?”
“No. But I’ve read all his campaign reports. He fights as if he thinks for himself. That kind of thing makes the Office of Intolerance nervous. Bosco protects him, that’s what I hear.”
“So why does Princeps need you to tell him what to do?”
“You’ll have to ask Bosco.” Cale gestured at the map. “Where are they now?”
Vipond pointed to a spot about a hundred miles from the Scablands at their northernmost tip.
“The view is that they’re going to cross the Scablands to the Sanctuary.”