"The railroad's wrecked, then?" he said at last.
"They're repairing segments with plain wood rails," Ludwig said; pride showed in his voice. "And hauling trains with oxen. The whole area's up in arms, peasant revolt and famine, with three or four regiments beating the bush for insurectos. We swung north, and they're trying to run wagon trains from the Padan River down to the camps here. Also we saw troops heading north, toward the frontier; the peasants gave us rumors about Guard and Stalwart raiding, and pirates along the coast."
Raj nodded. "Scavengers around a dying bull," he said. "Commodore Lopeyz has sunk three corsairs in the last month, found them hanging about just over the horizon." One hand indicated the delta of the White River to their left. "What with one thing and another, I think the enemy will be forced to make a move soon."
"How's the supply situation, sir?"
"Not bad, but getting worse. We've enough to keep the men and dogs on full rations for now, although the civilians are being shorted. No famine, though."
Apart from the odd body found dead in a doorway in the morning, but that happened in any city, under siege or not.
"What'll they do?"
"I'm not sure. . but they'll do something. Soon."
* * *
"No!" Ingreid Manfrond said, sweeping the map aside.
His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the other Brigade commanders.
"Lord of Men-" Teodore Welf began.
"Shut up, you puppy!" Ingreid roared. "You lost me twenty thousand men with your last bright idea."
Teodore stepped back from the table, clicked heels-his armor clanked too-and gave a stiff bow before leaving. Ingreid stared after him; it was a breach of protocol to leave the General's presence before permission was granted. Most of the other officers looked elaborately elsewhere; a few looked calculating, wondering if the triumvirate was breaking up. The weak spring sunlight came through the tentflap with a gust of air, ruffling the maps on the table. The sour smell of the camp was worse, men with runny guts and dogs too.
"Your Mightiness," Howyrd Carstens said, "he was right this time. We've got to deal with this new army." His thick calloused thumb swept over to the Crown, then up the peninsula from Lion City.
"They're over the Waladavir," he said. "Our arse is hanging in the breeze like a bumboy's, and if he heads southwest and cuts us off from the Padan valley we're fucked-how many men are dismounted already because we can't bait their dogs?"
"You think I should send Welf off, with his mother's milk still wet on his lips?" Ingreid said. "Give him fifteen regiments?"
His voice was no longer a roar, but still hoarse with anger. He snapped his fingers, and a servant came forward with wine. It was too early in the day. . but he needed it. The raw chill of this damned winter had gotten into his bones.
I'm not sixty yet, he thought. I can out-ride and out-fight any of them. But the price kept going up every year.
Carstens shook his head. "Whoever you want," he said. "Send me, or go yourself. Take twenty thousand men, the ones with the best dogs and the fewest troopers down sick. That'll still leave us with seventy thousand fit for service here, more than enough to blockade the city. Stamp on this little Civvie column-there can't be more than four regiments' worth. Then come back here."
Ingreid shook his head. "I'm not splitting our forces," he said. "I'm through underestimating Whitehall, Spirit of Man of This Earth curse him. What we'll do is-"
He began giving his orders, pointing with a stubby finger now and then.
Carstens hawked and spat on the ground when he was finished. "Might work," he said. "Anyway, you're the General."
Ingreid was conscious of their eyes on him. A proper General led the warriors of the Brigade to victory. So far he'd lost two-score regiments in battle, and half as many again to sickness. It wasn't a distinguished record. . and his grip on the Seat was still new and uncertain.
"I am the General," he said. "And I'll have Whitehall's skull for a drinking cup before the first wheat's reaped this year."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"He's up to something," Raj said. The setting sun glittered red on the lancepoints of a regiment of Brigaderos cuirassiers moving at the edge of sight. "Something fairly substantial."
Once more they were gathered on one of the north gate towers; Suzette looking a little pale from the lingering aftermath of influenza and some woman's problem she wouldn't tell him about, curled up under a mound of furs.
"Movin' troops," M'lewis added, nodding. Parties of his Scouts were out every night, collecting information and the ear-bounty. "Looks loik back 'n forth, though."
Gerrin and Ludwig Bellamy bent over the map table. "Well," the older man said thoughtfully, "Ingreid's done bloody silly things before. Hmmm. . moved about ten thousand men from the south bank of the river to the north, and none of them have been moved back."
"Ingreid's trying hard to be clever," Raj said absently, tapping his jaw with a thumb. "He's going to do something-no way of hiding that-but he doesn't want us to know where."
"All-out assault?" Ludwig Bellamy said.
"Possibly. That would cost him, but we can't be strong enough all along scores of kilometers of wall. With his numbers, he could feint quite heavily and then hit us with the rest of it somewhere else."
A crackle of tension went through the officers, like dogs sniffing the spring air and bristling. Raj looked out again at the enemy camps; blocks of men and banners were moving, tiny with the distance.
observe, Center said.
The vision was a map, with counters to represent troops and arrows for their movements.
Are you sure? Raj thought.
probability 82 % ±5, Center replied. examine the movements of artillery.
"Ah," Raj said aloud. "He's moving the men around, but the guns have been going in only one direction."
The other men were silent for an instant. "Foolish of him," Staenbridge said.
Ludwig nodded. "I think he's short of draught oxen," he said. "Probably they've been eating them. Shortsighted."
"Then here's what we'll do," Raj said. "Jorg, select the best eleven battalions of your infantry, and hold them in readiness down by the river docks. You'll command. Move the rest up here to the northern sector. Gerrin, I want you here with me. Ludwig, you'll take the armored cars and all the cavalry except the 5th and 7th-"
When he finished, there was silence for a long moment.
"That's rather risky, isn't it?" Gerrin said carefully. "I think it's fairly certain we could stop Ingreid head-on."
Raj smiled grimly. What's that toast? he asked Center: it was something from one of the endless historical scenarios his guardian ran for him.
"A toast, messers," he said, raising his cup. "He fears his fate too much, and his desserts are small, who will not put it to the touch-to win or lose it all."
* * *
"Where're we going, Corporal?" rifleman Minatelli murmured.
The 24th Valencia were tramping down the cobblestoned streets toward the harbor in the late-night chill. They were still blinking with sleepiness, despite a hurried breakfast in their billets. Men with torches or lanterns stood at the streetcorners, directing the flow. It was dark despite the stars and moons, and he moved carefully to avoid treading on the bootheels of the man in front. The cold silty smell of the river estuary was strong, underneath the scent of wool uniforms and men. Occasionally a window would open a crack as the folk inside peered out at the noise below. Trapped and helpless and wondering if their fate was to be decided tonight. .
"How da fuck should I know?" the corporal snarled. "Jest shut-"