making the same mistakes, the way I'm sure Tomsien will.'
' The way I'm sure. ' It sounded so… sure. This time Helga did shudder; and was, again, comforted by Adrian's hand giving her shoulder a little squeeze.
She understood the meaning of that reassuring pressure, and felt herself relax a bit. I'm still here, love. Just… sitting off to the side for a bit. This is Raj Whitehall's work. Got to be that way, or we might all die this day.
She even managed to croak out a question. 'What other mistake of Tomsien's do you expect?'
'Not-'
His answer was drowned out by a wave of sound. Two waves, actually, coming so close on top of each other that they smote the ears like a single thunderclap. The first, the Vanbert battle cry-the real cry, the full-throated one which announced an assault, not a javelin volley-followed instantly by the first full volley of the Reedbottom gunners sheltered inside their wagons.
Helga stared. Shocked into silence, first, by the overwhelming power of the charge itself. Ten thousand men smashing down on their enemy like a sudden tidal bore. Then, by the fact that the wave…
Broke. Was shattered, in fact. Hammered down, before the wave could even crest.
Another roar-all gunfire, that. The only sounds coming from the Confederate infantrymen were screams and shouts of confusion.
Another roar of gunfire. Three volleys fired in quick succession, from the three guns each crew at the porthole had ready.
From here, Helga knew, the rapidity with which the Reedbottoms could fire their volleys would decrease. Slowly, at first, as guns were exchanged for others already loaded. Then, much more rapidly, as the already-fired guns had to be cleaned and reloaded.
But she thought it would be enough. Those first three volleys had almost ruined two full brigades. Confederate tactics and armor, so effective against all previous opponents, were almost the worst imaginable under these conditions. At point-blank range, there was almost no way any of those heavy bullets could miss. They'd hit a man in the next rank, or the next, even if they missed the first.
Next to her, Jessep was almost snarling. 'One of ten, I'll bet, or close to it. In the first clash, less than a minute. By the gods, that's ruinous. If Tomsien doesn't-'
'He won't,' said the voice confidently. 'No way he could, really. He doesn't have time to react himself. He probably can't even see what's happening.'
Adrian's finger pointed. 'See? The second rank's already piling forward. Having to climb over the casualties of the first, which slows them down even more. They're just as confused as Tomsien. Reacting by training and ingrained habit.'
Another volley. Helga could see hundreds more infantrymen being hammered aside or down. Another volley. Hundreds more. Another volley. The same. The third rank of the two front brigades was now having to clamber over the corpses of their comrades. Beginning just a few yards in front of the wagons, it seemed as if the Confederates were piling up an earthwork made of their own broken and bleeding bodies.
Not even a Confederate army could sustain a frontal assault in the face of such casualties. So, beginning with the file closers and first spears, they reacted by training and instinct again. The Confederate battle formation was designed to outflank and envelop an enemy as much as overwhelm it.
No way here, of course, to use the celebrated 'wedge' and 'saw.' The first being triangular formations designed to split apart a phalanx or barbarian mob; the second being a corresponding inverted triangle to trap them-both, together, designed to maximize the advantages of the short stabbing assegai against unwieldy long swords and pikes. The Confederate brigade formation was far more flexible than any phalanx, and could always outflank an enemy.
Sure enough. The second block of two brigades was not even trying to follow over the first. Each brigade was breaking, one to the right and one to the left, moving as quickly as such large bodies of men could move in formation. They would start hammering the laager elsewhere.
Which would Helga almost gasped.
'That's what I was about to say,' continued the voice. 'Tomsien won't be able to stop the flanking maneuver. It's too automatic, too traditional, too ingrained. Even if he was as smart as Helga's father, I doubt he could stop it. Tomsien probably won't even think to try until his next two brigades have been shredded.'
For a moment, something like Adrian's own smile came to his face. And the next words were almost spoken in his own voice. 'I could have told them, y'know? Any graduate of the Grove could. Mystic Form, and all that. How do you outflank a circle? '
'Damn me, lad, but you're right.'
If Jessep had noticed the subtle transformation in Adrian's voice, he was ignoring it. Helga suspected the former First Spear of her father's First Regiment just plain didn't care whose voice was speaking from Adrian's mouth-as long as the voice knew what it was talking about.
The veteran was running fingers through his gray stubble. 'You designed this formation for this, didn't you? These wagons, I mean, and this 'laager' business of yours. Designed it for one purpose, really, and one only. Destroy the largest Confederate army you could.'
He left off the stubble-rubbing and pointed a finger that was almost-not quite-accusatory. 'You knew what they'd do. Like… like… like inviting a man to attack a hot iron by spreading more of his body over it.'
Whitehall's aura was back in the voice, but the words themselves were mild. Those of a man deflecting an accusation, as it were.
'I thought of it more as creating a shredder against which Tomsien would shred his own army. The biggest problem any laager has is that you can't bring all your forces to bear unless the enemy surrounds you. A problem which Tomsien will solve for me. But, yes-your analogy's very apt, Special Attendant Yunkers.'
Special Attendant. The use of the title seemed to jar Jessep just a bit. Reminding him, as it were, of his new loyalties and obligations. Helga didn't doubt for a moment that Whitehall had used the title deliberately. Although, she admitted to herself, Adrian probably would have done the same. Her lover was by no means unperceptive and unsubtle, however distracted he might sometimes seem.
A sardonic little grin came to Yunker's face. 'The gods save the world, what with you and Verice Demansk ganging up on it. He counted on this too, didn't he?'
Adrian shrugged. ' Counted on it? Oh, I really doubt that, Jessep. Helga's father is far too shrewd and experienced to count on something. But I'm quite sure he… how can I put it? 'Included the likelihood in his calculations,' how's that? At the very least, I'm sure he figured I could cripple Tomsien, even if not destroy him.'
Gods, have I ever heard such a cold voice? Not even cold so much as… empty.
But, again, she felt a little squeeze on her shoulder. And remembered something Adrian had told her once.
Center's empty, yes. Or, at any rate, filled with something which amounts to the same thing, from a human viewpoint. But Raj? He's just… oh, let's call it serene, why don't we? He was a man himself, once, don't forget. It's just that between his own life and everything Center's shown him, he's seen it all happen so many times before. So he looks on carnage the same way you or I might look on the ocean pounding against cliffs. That's frightening, to a child. An adult just contemplates the workings of nature.
Jessep grunted. For a time, said nothing; just watched as the grisly business unfolded. The last two brigades were starting to come into position, rolling past the third and fourth-already starting to get shredded against the farther reaches of the laager-ready to assault the Reedbottoms from the south. Bringing ever more of their men into range of those terrible guns, against which their shields provided no protection at all-and their disciplined formations provided the best possible target.
The din was almost deafening, by now. No one had ever accused Vanberts of cowardice, not once in many centuries. The battalions and the companies-the brigade structure had already collapsed, even Helga could see that, and the regiments were close to it-kept hammering themselves against the wooden walls. And were hammered back, by a much heavier hammer. Javelins and assegais against thick planks; heavy lead bullets against thin shields and armor, and softer flesh.
Never cowards. Helga could not see so much as a single squad breaking away. All the regulars were bellowing their ancient battle cries and hurling themselves into the fray. Between their own shouts-and screams- and the constant gunfire, she thought she might go deaf.
