The condition of Mainahkos’ main battle line was not at all pleasant, for all that there had not as yet been any contact with the enemy for the front ranks or the right flank. Numerous small engines, apparently situated just behind the enemy center, had been hurling stones and long, thick spears in high arcs to fall with effect both devastating and deadly among their close-packed ranks, reducing the depth as rear-rankers needs must advance to plug the gory gaps. But it suddenly got worse, far worse.
At almost the same instant, three towering war-elephants crashed into the left flank and began to roll it speedily up, while elements of their own cavalry reserve slammed into the rear of the right-flank formations, and the panic of those horses, for some unknown reason, spread like wildfire among the horses of the heavy cavalry guarding that flank as well.
In the space between the two opposing battle lines, the harried, now-wounded commander of the war-carts just stared, astounded. Like Stehrgiahnos a broken nobleman and the man who had persuaded the two warlords to build and fit out the carts to serve the functions of the elephants that they did not have and never had had for the bandit army, he had known his full share of formal warfare in better days, but even then he had never before heard of such a thing as this.
Leaving their secure, unthreatened position, the entire length of the enemy pike line was advancing, moving at a brisk walk, their lines still even and dressed, their pikes at high-present—shoulder height—an array of winking steel points that projected well ahead of the marching lines. It was an unholy occurrence, thought the renegade; the miserable infantry simply did not advance against armored war-carts. It was unthinkable!
For him, it was truly unthinkable. Basically akin to Captain Ahzprinos of the opposing force, a less than imaginative or creative man, he did then the only thing of which he could think to do. He signaled and led a withdrawal back to whence he and the others had come, back to their own lines.
But before the carts could reach the left wing, their own infantry lines suddenly surged forward, looking less like a formation of men than like a cylinder of raw dough pressed mightily at both ends. The boiling press of men thoroughly blocked the way of the carts.
Deeply contemptuous of the common footmen at even the best of times, the commander led his force directly into the infantry, carving a gore-streaked path through them up until the moment that a wild-eyed, terrified man smote him across the backplate with a poleaxe and flung him to the ground at just the proper time and place to be raggedly decapitated by the sharp, blood-slimed, whirling blades projecting from a wheel hub of his own war-cart.
Portos’ squadron of heavy horse had continued their “panicky withdrawal” until he judged that the enemy horse and peltasts had all been drawn far enough out that they could not easily or quickly return to their assigned positions and that the way was thus clear for the elephants and supporting lancers to assault the left flank of the bandits’ pike lines. Then, abruptly, the “fallen” banner was raised high again and flourished, and the squadron reined about and began to fight, not flee. They had hacked a good half of their erstwhile pursuers from out their saddles before the survivors broke and fled, scattering the peltasts before them.
At that juncture, Captain Thoheeks Portos halted his force, reformed them and directed them against the nearest protrusion of the roiling, confused mass of men that had formerly been the center of the bandits’ pike line. But that projection had recoalesced back into the main mass by the time the heavy horse had come within fifty mehtrahee of it, so quick-thinking Portos led his force around the broil into the howling chaos that had but lately been the rear area of the enemy army. After detaching half the squadron under a trusted subordinate officer to see to it that as few horsemen as possible escaped back to the city, the grim-faced Portos led the other half in a hard-driving charge upon the rear and flank of those units still more or less coordinated and functioning as flank guards on the enemy’s right. His half-squadron struck only bare moments before those same units were assaulted all along their front by Captain Chief Pawl Vawn of Vawn and his Horseclansmen.
When the war-carts so precipitately withdrew from the field, Grand Strahteegos Komees Pahvlos ordered the drums to roll the chosen signal. At that sound, the pikemen dropped their shields from off their backs, lowered their long, heavy pikes to low-guard present—waist-level—position and increased their pace to a fast trot, although they all maintained their proper intervals and formation up to the very moment that their hedge of steel points sank deeply into soft flesh or began to grate upon armor or bone.
The pursuit and slaughter continued for some hours more and the executions of the captured bandits went on for days, both outside and inside the city, but the charge of the pikemen had really ended the hard-fought battle at Kahlkopolis.
Pahvlos had, at first, decided to simply hang the most of the captured bandits and convert the less dangerous ones to slaves of the City of Kahlkopolis, granting the captured renegades their choice of hanging with the rest or being beheaded. That was before the signet of the late Vahrahnos of Ippohskeera was found among loot in the personal quarters of Mainahkos in the ducal palace of the Thoheeksee of Kahlkos, which find he took to mean that it was this particular pack had committed the atrocities the dying man had detailed.
Consequently, the executions were savage. None were kept for slaves; rather were all of the bandits, excepting only the chief and the three renegades, tied onto crosses stretching all along the part of the trade road that ran through the Thoheekseeahn of Kahlkos, many of them after having already been subjected to torture and mutilations.
The three onetime noblemen were manacled heavily and thoroughly, thrown into a wagon-mounted cage and set off on their journey to Mehseepolis to there be judged and sentenced by the Council of Thoheeksee.
The Grand Strahteegos had Mainahkos’ fingers crushed, one by one, then saw him impaled on a thick, blunt stake of oak, most of it with the rough bark still on.
IX
As he stared into the dark contents of his winecup, swirling to the motion of his hand, Thoheeks Grahvos reflected, “Six years now. Six years tomorrow since we few moved the capital from Thrahkohnpolis to Mehseepolis here. Although I tried to project to the others sincere confidence that our aims would, could, do no other but succeed, I didn’t really feel that confident, not at all. But it worked, by God; it has succeeded. We are once more three-and-thirty thoheeksee, ruling over all of what was for so long the Kingdom of Southern Ehleenohee .
“Most of the lands are once again under lords, they’re being planted and harvested, crops are coming in . . . and taxes, too; why, Sitheeros and I were even paid back a little of the monies we advanced Council, they voted the amounts to us at the last meeting and there was even talk to the effect of either buying Mehseepolis outright from me or at least paying rent for the central government’s use of it and the lands used by the army. And that’s a sign of maturity, that, an indicated willingness to begin to undertake the discharge of responsibilities.
“Speaking of responsibilities, Thoheeks Mahvros is doing every bit as good a job as ever I did as chairman of the Council; even Bahos, who wanted the chair himself, has had to admit that we chose well in selecting Mahvros. Besides, neither Bahos nor Sitheeros nor I is any of us getting a bit younger, and while wisdom is required in council, a young, vibrant, vital hand on the reins is needed, too, on occasion.