“There are, lady, there are,” Stark interjected. “Just hope their price is high and they’re scared enough of you not to fill up the grain wagons with sand. It’s been done to campaigns before.”
“And your knights, Vanjynk?” MacKinnie asked.
“They drill well, they wheel to the trumpets, but they still do not like turning from the battle. Nor do I, but I see it must be done.” Vanjynk lifted his cup and gulped the wine. “You fight strangely on your world, star man.”
“Lay off that talk,” Stark muttered. “We have enough trouble with the Temple people without that.”
MacKinnie nodded. “Hal’s right. But tell me, will the knights obey the trumpets?”
“I believe so,” Brett answered. “They have little wish to be killed by barbarians. But there is no fear of death in these men, only of dishonor.”
“Aye, so Brett made a song about foolish knights who abandoned their commander and were shamed forever,” MacLean said. “Silly thing, but catchy. Seems to have helped.”
“If songs help, sing your lungs out,” MacKinnie told them. “The key to this whole battle is getting the heavy cavalry to bear on the barbarians while they’re bunched up. Nothing on this world can stand up to a charge from those armored ironheads, but as soon as they lose their momentum and scatter, the maris can pick them off with no trouble at all.” He turned to Mary Graham. “Do you have all the supplies we ordered?”
She nodded. “We’ve made thousands of bolts for the crossbows, and the grain wagons are ready. You don’t really have very many provisions, you know.”
“I know. You’re rolling plenty of empty wagons, though. Either we find something to put in them, or we’ll come back home for more supplies. This formation’s slow enough without heavy transport gear in the square.”
“Then we’re ready,” Mary Graham said.
“Not you. You aren’t going,” MacKinnie told her.
“Yes I am. It’s no safer in here than out there. If your battle is lost, the city is lost as well and you know it.” She looked around the room at the other men from her world. “I have a right to his protection, and I choose that he exercise it personally. Don’t I have that right?”
“An interesting point,” Longway said. “You cannot abandon her without finding a substitute guardian,” the Academician told MacKinnie. “And doubtless she is entitled to someone of her own world. Who will you leave with her? Scholar Kleinst remains in the city, but for all his great value he is hardly a suitable guardian.”
“I appear to be outmaneuvered, although why you should want to accompany an army in the field is beyond me, freelady.” MacKinnie looked at her expectantly.
“I see no reason to stay here,” she told him. “There are few enough on this godforsaken place that I can talk to, without being left with the Temple monks. Besides, I can be useful, or can you spare anyone else to manage your commissary?”
“The point is made.” Well made, he thought. She’s been nearly as useful as Hal. No one else could have organized the logistics half as well as she has. But—
He turned back to the council. “Our whole purpose in this expedition will be to either force the plainsmen into battle on our terms, or destroy their base of supply. Either will be sufficient, although I doubt they will let us simply march out and burn their harvests without a fight…” He indicated the map spread out on the table. “As far as we can tell from watching their movements, they’ve been harvesting the crops for the past three weeks. The nearest big concentration of grain is here, about thirty kilometers from the gates, assuming they use the roads and village structures. I rather think they will. From what I’ve been able to learn they often do that. We’ll make straight for that and burn what we can’t load up.”
“Then what?” MacLean asked.
“We see if they’ll fight. If they won’t, we keep marching from place to place until they’re short of rations. But they’ll fight, all right.”
“You may get more battle than you expect,” Longway said. “You’ve hurt their pride and your last expedition, and they’ll want to prove it was an accident. Next time, they’ll press home their charge with everything they have.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” MacKinnie answered slowly. “It will take them time to gather for the battle, and more to decide who leads it. By that time, we should have got to our objective and set up camp. They’ll gather troops all night, and probably try to wipe us out in the morning.”
“Then you’re trying for one big battle,” Mary said.
“Yes. One turn of the wheel, freelady. We haven’t a lot of time.” He glanced significantly at the Makassarians at the table, then stood to dismiss the meeting. “Rest well, and be ready tomorrow. They may not let us get to the first village.”
The army formed outside the city walls after first light. MacKinnie placed his men in a triangular formation again, but this time the broad base of the wedge faced forward, its point to the rear. He doubled the men on the right leg of the wedge, using all the left-handed troops he could find for the forward elements of that line, and placing a large reserve force at the rear point. When he was satisfied with his arrangements, the drums beat the slow march, and the army moved forward.
Clouds of maris rode madly around, darting toward them, withdrawing, waiting for any opening in the shield walls, patient in the knowledge that the city army could never pursue them. The slow cadence continued, wagon wheels creaked and men shouted at the oxen drawing supply wagons, while the knights in the center impatiently led their mounts. Kilometer after kilometer they marched toward the enemy camp, as more and more barbarians joined the forces riding around them. They were completely surrounded.
“Reckon the city can hold with what we’ve left them?” Stark asked, looking back at the city in the distance. “You didn’t leave them much.”
“They’ll hold,” MacKinnie replied. “The enemy has no heavy siege equipment, and as long as the walls are manned the barbarians can’t do much. Give them enough time and they could throw up ladders or even stack their saddles against the walls, but the defense can slow that down, and I don’t intend to give them any time for stunts like that. We seem to be attracting most of them to us, anyway. What’s Sumbavu doing?”
“He’s riding with the knights, Colonel. Keeping an eye on those pretty uniformed swordsmen and archers, too. He doesn’t trust you much.”
“I don’t blame him, Hal. I wouldn’t trust me much either if I were him. But what else can he do? Keep a sharp eye on him; I can’t have him interfering.”
“Yes, sir. You didn’t make much protest about his coming.”
“Maybe I didn’t mind him coming. Now watch him.”
“Yes, sir.”
The march continued, drawing to within a kilometer of the enemy tents. MacKinnie looked closely at the cluster of enemy in front of him. “They’re trying to make up their minds. They don’t want to give up all that grain without a fight. Watch that group there,” he said, pointing. “Here they come! Beat the alarm!”
The drums thundered, then went back to their steady pace. The column continued to advance until the enemy was within bow-shot. “Prepare for attack,” MacKinnie said quietly, measuring the distance to the nearest of the plainsmen. “Form the wall.” The drums beat again, and the Temple archers rushed to the perimeter, firing into the packed enemy. The charge hurtled toward the broad front of the wedge, then wheeled around to strike the left end of the line. Pikemen rushed to the corner as echelon after echelon of the enemy plunged against the left leg of the inverted wedge.
The shield wall held. A few of the barbarians leaped over the first rank to land among the pikemen, their shortswords slashing, but Temple guardsmen moved forward to cut them down. The battle was short, and when it was finished hundreds more of the enemy lay in front of the column. The men raised a cheer, cut short by the drummers’ commands to resume the march.