The Proof House (62 page)

 

Temrai, meanwhile, had seen another opportunity. He was on the path, looking down at the compressed mass of the slaughter, when the advance stalled and the two sides stood staring at each other through the dust across the ashwood thicket, like two neighbours on either side of a hedge. He turned to the man next to him, a section leader called Lennecai, and tugged at his sleeve.

‘They’re stuck,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘They’re stuck,’ Temrai repeated. ‘They can’t move, same as us. Get this path clear and bring down six companies of archers.’

They cleared the path by dumping the carts, pushing them off the crumbling track. Most of them tumbled harmlessly down, smashing into junk timber as they bounced off the rocky face of the slope; a few landed like trebuchet shot in the compacted mass of bodies, some on one side of the hedge, some on the other. Lennecai lined his archers out in a double column and ordered them to face about; enough of them had a clear shot down into the pikemen to make the manoeuvre worthwhile. Bardas’ men instinctively looked up as the arrows hissed and whistled into the air, and were able to watch the arrows bank and pitch, slanting in at them like rain on a windy day. Of course there was no hope of getting out of the way; they had no choice but to stand and watch the arrows, as closely packed as rows of standing wheat. It wasn’t just the front rank, or the front three ranks. The archers were raking the whole formation from front to back.

As men died or were spitted, so they stopped pushing; the momentum went out of the push of pikes like tension from a rope bridge when one of the main hawsers is cut through. The mass started to crumple, just as a crushed plate folds up under the hammer, until the pressure from the men on the other end of the spears forced them to give ground. As they slipped back so the formation no longer supported the weight of the pikes, with their tremendous weight of meat hanging from the sharp end. The pikes went down, like trees felled in an overgrown forest, fouling and tangling in the undergrowth.
Now would be a good time for a counterattack
, Temrai observed, and a few moments later he saw it happen, as the survivors of the third and fourth ranks of his men pushed and shoved their way past the bodies of their fellows and tried to press home an attack with their scimitars. It was only a partial success; there still wasn’t enough room to swing a sword, to bring down an overhead blow, and in any case the pikemen’s helmets and pauldrons were easily proof against light cuts delivered with the force of the arm and wrist alone. The best they could do was trim off a few fingers, ears and noses (like foresters trimming a newly felled trunk).

‘He’s about to make a mistake,’ Bardas said aloud.

The pikemen were slumping, falling back; and Temrai’s men were pushing forward, following up an opportunity they’d never anticipated. Bardas sent a couple of runners to the sergeants of halberdiers, and another to the artillery crews.

Temrai saw it too, but not quite in time; by that stage it was out of his control, as his men surged out through the breaches in pursuit of the pikemen, and were immediately enfiladed by Bardas’ archers, positioned on either side. The shock of volley fire at close range stopped them in their tracks, as men went down like cut corn; before they could turn round and go back, the halberdiers moved in to cut them off. Temrai’s runners arrived in time to stop anybody else going beyond the stockade, but for those already outside nothing could be done. The work crews had started piling trash in the breaches to block them up even before the last of the pursuit party were killed. Bardas’ second opportunity didn’t amount to much; the trebuchets only managed two clear shots each on the archers lined up on the path before Temrai pulled them out.

They packed up the portable bridges and withdrew in good order, without interference from Temrai’s battered and out-of-commission artillery. Once the assault party was safely home, the bombardiers restored the trebuchets to their previous settings, locked down the handwheels and carried on with the bombardment of the path and the engine emplacements.

‘On balance,’ Bardas explained, ‘we came out ahead. We killed more of them, we made them waste a lot of arrows, and of course there’s the morale effect of having the advantage at the end. More to the point, we learned another lesson about close fighting in the fortress, and we learned it in a practice run rather than the actual main assault. All they can say is that they’re still there, and that hardly counts as progress.’ He sighed; and if he could see the wounded men sprawled on the wagons outside the surgeons’ enclosure, he didn’t say anything about them. ‘We’ve got a long way to go yet,’ he said, ‘but we’re getting there. After all, Perimadeia wasn’t built in a day.’

 

‘What, me?’ Gorgas looked shocked. ‘Certainly not. Why should I do such a stupid thing?’

The envoy’s expression didn’t change - did they breed them that way, Gorgas wondered, or did they have the sinews in their cheeks and jaws cut when they were children, as part of a lifelong apprenticeship in the art of diplomacy? ‘I’m only repeating what we were told,’ he said. ‘Our sources say that the rebellion was started by your men, acting on your orders. The fact that you’re discussing the matter with me rather than twenty thousand halberdiers ought to give you some indication of how much faith we put in reports from that particular source.’

Gorgas laughed, as if the envoy had just told a funny story. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘unless you tell me where the report came from I can’t really comment. I suppose it’s possible that these troublemakers you’re talking about were my men, in the sense that they served with me at some time or other, but anything they may have done certainly wasn’t on my orders. Perish the thought. After all,’ he added, ‘I may not be a genius, but I’m not stupid enough to go picking a fight with the Empire for the sake of a bunch of merchants who’ve never done me any favours. That’d be suicide. Can I get you something to eat?’

The envoy looked at him startled, then shook his head. ‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you. Obviously, if you do find out anything about who might have been responsible—’

‘Of course. I’d be glad to have the chance to do something to show just how serious the Mesoge is about becoming a loyal and useful member of the Empire. I’m right in thinking, aren’t I, that we’re the first nation ever to join the Empire voluntarily?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ the envoy said, standing up and brushing moss and leaf-mould rather vigorously from his cloak. ‘One other thing before I go: have you by any chance heard anything from your sister or her daughter? We’ve had rather disturbing reports that suggest they may have been abducted.’

‘You don’t say,’ Gorgas replied. ‘It’s true, I haven’t heard from either of them lately. I was planning to write to Niessa soon anyway; I’ll see what I can find out.’

‘Thank you,’ said the envoy gravely, staring pointedly at the axe lying across Gorgas’ knees. ‘I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.’

‘Gateposts,’ Gorgas replied. ‘It’s a shame to fell this old oak - I remember climbing up it when I was a kid - but it’s stone dead; better to cut it down now than have it come down on the roof some windy night. And you can’t beat oak for gateposts.’

‘I’m sure,’ the envoy said. One of his escort held the stirrup for him and he lifted himself rather stiffly into the saddle. ‘Thank you for your time.’

‘Always a pleasure,’ Gorgas said.

By the time the envoy and his party were out of sight, Gorgas was nearly through, so he decided to finish off before going back to the house. He’d made cuts on three sides so as to be able to dictate which direction the tree would fall in; all he had to do now was cut out the remaining quadrant until he reached the point where the narrow core at the centre could no longer support the shearing force of the tree’s weight. Then he ought to be able to tip the tree down with just the pressure of his hand.

It fell well, more or less where he’d wanted it to go, and he allowed himself a moment of rest and satisfaction, leaning on his axe and listening to the soft patter of raindrops falling from the leaves of the tall elm behind him. It had rained all night, but the morning had been fine and fresh - if there was one smell that meant home, it was the sweet aftermath of rain.

It was a shame he couldn’t stay a little longer; but there was work to do indoors before he could get back to this job (and it had waited thirty years; it’d probably keep another hour without causing a disaster). He leaned the axe against the elm tree and walked slowly back to the house.

They were there, same as usual; staring at each other across the dark room like two dogs. Why his sister and his niece insisted on sulking like this he couldn’t make out, but he had a feeling that trying to bounce them into reconciliation would most likely do more harm than good.

‘Someone came asking after you two today,’ he said. Neither of them said anything. ‘From the provincial office, letting me know there was a chance you’d been - abducted, was the word he used. So you’d better stay indoors a bit longer, just in case they’ve got someone watching. I’m sorry,’ he went on, as both women protested angrily, ‘but I don’t need the aggravation of being caught with you two, not until I’ve had time to straighten things out.’ He sat down and pulled the cider-jug towards him; nothing like chopping down a tree to raise a healthy thirst. ‘I think we’ll go along with this abduction idea,’ he said. ‘What happened was, you were both kidnapped by pirates; they sent to me for a ransom, I pretended to play along, paid out the ransom, got you back, then went after the pirates and dealt with them. When someone gives you a perfectly serviceable lie, it’s only polite to follow it up.’

Not a word, from either of them. He sipped his drink and smiled; it had taken a while to get used to the taste of raw home-made cider again, but it was one of those flavours that grew on you, a sort of comfortingly familiar unpleasantness. ‘Mostly,’ he went on, ‘I don’t want to cause any upsets until Bardas has beaten Temrai; it can’t be much longer, so we’ll just have to sit tight. That damned Imperial was sniffing about that, too, but of course they can’t prove anything.’

Niessa turned and looked at him. ‘What was all that about, anyway?’ she said. ‘Someone told me you’d sent soldiers to the Island—’

‘Who told you that?’ Gorgas asked.

Niessa frowned. ‘One of the sergeants who came up here the other day, the tall ginger-haired one—’

Gorgas nodded. ‘I know who you mean,’ he said.

‘He assumed I knew all about it,’ Niessa went on. ‘I hope I haven’t got him in trouble.’

‘It’s understandable,’ Gorgas said. ‘After all, it’s not so long ago they were taking their orders from you, not me. It’s all right, I’ll deal with it.’

That didn’t sound very hopeful for the red-headed sergeant, who really had been most reluctant to tell her anything, but Niessa wasn’t going to let herself get sidetracked. ‘So what have you been up to?’ she asked. ‘You really shouldn’t play power-politics, you know. You aren’t very politic and you’re certainly not very powerful.’

Gorgas grinned. ‘It’s like cutting down a tree,’ he said, ‘it’s just a matter of making sure things fall the right way. I knew that if the provincial office had their way it’d be their general and the troops from the Island who ran down Temrai, and Bardas would only be there to round up the stragglers. Which would have been no use at all to anybody. So I made sure the fleet didn’t sail on time.’

‘You did?’ Iseutz asked, smiling. ‘Oh, sure. And how did you manage that?’

‘Easy,’ Gorgas said. ‘I went round some of the merchants I know on the Island, put the idea into their heads of trying to hold up the provincial office for more money. I expected it to be much harder work than it actually was; for a nation that call themselves businessmen, they’re as naïve as they come. Of course,’ he went on, ‘I knew there was a risk the Imperials would do what they in fact did - annex the Island and get hold of the ships that way; but I wasn’t bothered by that, because I was figuring on Bardas catching up with Temrai in the open, rather than having to dig him out. So, when the Imperials made their move, I sent a few of my people to cause trouble on the Island; which they did, bless them, and now Bardas has the field pretty much to himself. It’s all turned out much better than I thought it would, actually.’

There was a moment’s silence. Niessa was shaking her head contemptuously. ‘One thing that occurs to me,’ said Iseutz. ‘Do you actually have any proof that Bardas
wants
to be the one to bring back Temrai’s head to the prefect, that it actually matters to him? For all you know, he was quite happy to potter about on the borders, well away from the fighting.’

‘Don’t be silly, Iseutz,’ Gorgas said. ‘I know Bardas, you don’t. When he sees an opportunity, he makes the most of it - he’s like me or your mother in that respect, I suppose it runs in the family. Look at how well he’s done already since he’s been in the army; he took Ap’ Escatoy for them, and now he’s in charge of an army with a field command and the chance to avenge a terrible defeat and restore the prestige of the Empire. They’ll have to give him a prefecture after this, it’ll be the making of him. And I don’t suppose he’ll be heart-broken at the prospect of settling the score with Temrai, either, though he’s not what I’d call a vindictive person. Unlike some,’ he added meaningfully, looking at Iseutz. ‘No, what Bardas has got that the rest of us haven’t is this strong moral sense; he’ll want to see Temrai punished, not out of spite or because it’ll give him pleasure, but because he knows it’s something that’s got to be done, and he won’t feel right until it’s been done and he’s done it.’