But such was not so in the cases of the big, fair-skinned, thick-thewed barbarians commanded by Captain Hehluh. Only the cheek-guards and chin-slings of their helmets were of leather; all of the rest—the crown-bowls, the segmented nape-guards, the adjustable bar-nasals—were of good-quality steel. Their burly bodies were protected to the waist and their bulging arms to a bit below the elbow by padded jacks of canvas to which had been riveted overlapping scales of steel. Both their high-cuffed leather gauntlets and their canvas kilts were thickly sewn with metal rings, and, below steel-plate knee-cops, their shins were protected by splint armor riveted to the legs of their boots.
Moreover, each and every one of these singular pikemen bore a slightly outbowed rectangular shield near two feet wide and about twice that length. On command, each man could quickly unsling that shield, fit it to his arm and raise it above his head in such a way as to over- and underlap those about him and thus provide a covering that would turn an arrowstorm as easily as a roof of baked-clay tiles turned a rainstorm.
Nor were these the only differences in the arming and equipage of the barbarian foot and those of the onetime Southern Kingdom. Aside from his fifteen-foot pike, your traditional pikeman bore no weapons other than a single-edged knife that was, in practice, used mostly for eating purposes. In contrast to this, not a one of Captain Hehluh’s pikemen but also bore a heavy double-edged sword that was almost two feet in its sharp-pointed steel blade. Other weapons and the numbers of them seemed to be a matter of personal choice; knives, dirks and daggers of various lengths and sizes were carried, sometimes even short-hafted axes or cleavers, such as could be utilized as tools, hand weapons or missiles.
Even their pikes were different. Ehleen pikes ran thirteen to fifteen feet in the haft, the steel point usually being six to eight inches long, narrow and of a triangular or a square cross-section; ferrules were never of iron or steel, rarely of brass, usually of horn. The pikes of Hehluh’s men, however, were much longer to begin—some eighteen feet in the ashwood haft—with a reinforced blade point that was single-edged (so being capable of being used to cut the bridles of riders, for one thing) and a foot or more long, with iron-strip barding that was riveted along the haft from the base of the point for a good two feet to prevent swords and axes lopping off pikepoints. Ferrules were of wrought iron and nearly as long as the points; however, the overall weight thus added to the weapon was compensated for somewhat by the added balance imparted and by the availability of a last-ditch weapon to be afforded the pikeman by reversing his haft and making use of the blunt iron point.
Burdened as they thus were, Grand Strahteegos Komees Pahvlos had at the outset entertained fully understandable doubts that these overprotected, overequipped, overarmed pikemen would be capable of maintaining the needful pace on the march or in a broad-front pike charge; but those doubts had evaporated after he had put them to it. Those doubts had evaporated to be replaced in his open mind with an intensely troubling set of other doubts.
These new doubts began to breed in him changes of his formerly rock-hard opinions. He began to wonder just why so many generations of his forebears had carelessly, needlessly sacrificed so many other generations of common pikemen with the excuse—now proven patently false—that proper armor and secondary weapons would significantly decrease mobility. Moreover, Captain Bizahros agreed with him and had initiated formal requests for at least basic pieces of armor, real helmets and shortswords for his reorganized Fifth Foot. On the other hand, Captain Ahzprinos did not agree with Pahvlos—flatly, loudly, unequivocally and at very great length citing all of the old, traditional arguments as well as some new-thought ones of his own.
Slowly, the force began to become a true, almost complete, field army as certain specialist units were assembled, trained or hired on. One of Council’s traveling recruiters found and sent marching back to Mehseepolis two battalions of light infantry—one of dartmen, one of expert slingers equipped with powerful pole slings. Eeahtrohsee came with their ambulance wagons, bandages, little sharp knives, bone saws and ointments. Artificier and pioneer units were organized and assigned and fully equipped. An experienced quartermaster officer was found and—miracle of miracles for his breed—proved out to be a relatively honest man! They all trickled in—the cooks, the butchers, the smiths, the farriers, the wagoneers and muleskinners, the herders, the bakers and all of them with their assistants and /or apprentices and/or servants and /or slaves. And still no war-elephants arrived.
Under the overall supervision of the Grand Strahteegos and his new quartermaster, vast mountains of supplies began to be amassed and needed to be placed under guard in such manner as to prevent or retard possible spoilage or damage or pilferage. But there was no trace or word regarding elephants from the west.
A vast herd of cattle—rations on the hoof—now grazed around and about the forming army of the permanent camp, along with steadily increasing numbers of horses and mules. When the treasury ran low, Thoheeks Sitheeros and Thoheeks Grahvos contributed more ounces of gold for the common weal. But not even then did more elephants arrive, nor would Sitheeros part with any more of his own small herd.
The army drilled, drilled and drilled some more. Long, hot, sweaty route marches shook down the units and accustomed them to reforming at a moment’s notice from the column to a whole plethora of line-of-battle formations. Under the Grand Strahteegos’ critical eye and patient dedication, the infantry—the three regiments of pikemen and the two of light foot—and the cavalry—the reinforced squadron of heavy horse, the medium-heavy horse-archers and the half-squadron of light horse lancers—began to coalesce and behave and appear to be a whole rather than several parts. But even still, the three elephant cows, astounding as their performances of intricate maneuvers were, were the only probiscideans available for the army’s use.
At last, feeling that he had waited and had kept his army waiting quite long enough for the pachyderms, Pahvlos sought audience with the Council of Thoheeksee and announced that he intended to start the campaign immediately, with only the three cow elephants.
“Look you, my lords,” he had said, “the city that is our objective does not lie any short distance away from Mehseepolis, so the army is going to be on the march for some weeks, and I would much prefer a march in dust to a march in rain and mud. The weather at this time of year has always been rather dry, but if we delay for much longer, the autumn rains will commence. In all other ways than war-elephants, our army is ready, honed to a fine edge, as it sits. We possess enough supplies, weapons, transport and mounts for about three months of campaigning, which should be enough, in my considered judgment.”
“Not if you get tied down besieging the place, it won’t!” growled Thoheeks Bahos, in his contrabass rumble. “What will you do then? Forage, live off the land and despoil young Ahramos’ heritage? Or send back to us for more supplies to be bought with money we don’t have?”
“I have very strong doubts that it will ever come to a siege, my lord Thoheeks,” replied Pahvlos. “That precious pack aresquatting on the lands and in the city, at best, holding them by brute force, with little popular support, if any; they would not dare to shut themselves up within a city filled with citizens who all hate and fear them. No, they’ll come to battle, most likely, quite soon after I arrive with the army, of that I am certain.”