Now and then, Center had flashes of something close to a sense of humor. He gave Adrian, first, an image of a mechanical behemoth snorting its smooth way across a countryside. Then, the piled-up jumble of a trainwreck.
Yeah, what I thought.
Luckily for Adrian, Center's quasi sense of humor manifested itself but rarely. So, in the weeks which followed, as he struggled and strained and cursed and beat his breast in despair trying to keep huge and ungainly cannons moving-slowly, slowly-across a ravaged countryside in the middle of winter, he was at least not forced to grit his teeth at the computer's witticisms.
Raj Whitehall, of course, was a different matter. Yes, true enough, the former general was also a fount of excellent advice. But Adrian could have done without the jests and wisecracks-much less the disquisitions on the ironies of military life.
— never fails either. Just when the risk of an epidemic ravaging your troops has passed with warm weather, it comes right back again with the hard soil of winter. Nothing soldiers hate worse than digging latrines in winter- grouse about, anyway-but if you don't — lucky at that your winters are so mild. On And so it went, week after week. Excellent advice, yes; which got Adrian out of many a jam. Complete with commentary.
— can't do that, lad, I'm giving you fair warning. You'll have a mutiny within a week — logs as paving. Pile 'em straight down through the muck. It'll work, trust me. I did it during — and the time the only good surgeon got too drunk to work, right in the middle of a battle. Let that be a lesson to you, lad. Always On and on, week after week. By the time Adrian crested the hill overlooking Vanbert, the siege train coming up behind him, he was desperately trying to figure out a way he could make both Whitehall and Center materialize in front of him. So he could strangle the first and turn the great guns on the other.
His thoughts, of course, were no secret to his would-be victims. Center did not deign to comment. And all Raj had to say, when the sight of the enormous city finally loomed before them, was: A good job, lad. Lost only two of the guns along the way, got here in plenty of time-and even managed not to murder anyone, corporeal or otherwise.
That praise was modest compared to the accolades which Demansk heaped upon him. Adrian lost count of the number of times his father-in-law used the word 'brilliant' to refer to Adrian's exploit at his staff meetings. 'Daring' and 'dashing' were tossed around freely also. Not that Adrian could, for the life of him, understand how even an Emerald-much less a stodgy Confederate-could possibly apply such terms to an enterprise that had consisted, for the most part, of sheer drudgery.
But… Adrian didn't really need Raj and Center's commentary to explain it to him. Sieges are a miserable business, under the best of circumstances-which a siege undertaken in winter most certainly was not. Even with their confidence in eventual victory, the morale of Demansk's own soldiers was none too high at the moment. Having Adrian finally show up with the great guns- impressive, they were, to the besiegers who gawked at them as they were hauled into position-gave an enormous boost to their spirits.
And, of course, correspondingly depressed the spirits of the defenders. By now, the arquebusiers whom Adrian and Trae had trained and Demansk had brought with him had inflicted misery enough on the soldiers manning the walls of Vanbert. To see what even unsophisticates such as themselves could immediately recognize as giant versions of arquebuses, training their huge muzzles toward them…
Finally, Adrian realized, his father-in-law was-as always-seeing to it that the 'second string' to his bow was kept taut and ready. Now, as before and in the long years to come, Verice Demansk would be leaning heavily on his family. And if he was about to lose a son, he was reminding everyone that he had gained a son-in-law capable of replacing him. Reminding himself, perhaps, more than anyone.
'Let's do it,' Demansk ordered. His face was drawn and tight, looking like a mask in the lamplight of the command bunker, but showed no emotion otherwise. 'Send in the propaganda teams and the spies tonight, Forent. By now, that wall is like a sieve. For small groups of men, anyway.'
Nappur nodded. Adrian was a bit surprised that the giant seemed so placid at the prospect of trying to infiltrate hundreds of men into a city which was supposedly, after all, 'under siege.' But Raj enlightened him immediately.
Forget the imagery, lad. What's the axiom of your philosopher-can't remember his name at the moment- about not mistaking the portrait for the man? Same's true with a siege. Precious few sieges are really all that tight, especially with a city as enormous as Vanbert. Keep out massed assaults, yes. Keep out spies, deserters-both ways-traders, hell, even housewives looking for husbands and vice versa-not a chance.
Demansk turned to Adrian next. 'We'll give the proclamation two days to eat away at Albrecht's troops. Morning of the third, I'll want to start the barrage. Can you manage it?'
On that subject, Adrian had no questions at all. 'Yes, easily. I could start by tomorrow night, if you wanted.'
Demansk shook his head. 'No, the proclamation gives the troops two full days to decide, and I'll stick to it. Whatever I might gain in the way of a tactical surprise wouldn't be worth the political damage. 'Verice Demansk is good for his word.' That's gotten us this far, it'll take us the rest of the way.'
And so it proved. To Adrian's immense disgust-combined with relief, admittedly-the siege guns never went into action at all. By noon of the second day, mutinies began erupting among Albrecht's troops. By midafternoon, half the garrison of Vanbert was in full revolt. By late afternoon, the revolt was completely out of control. The gates of the city were being thrown open from within. Civilians began pouring out to plead for mercy and soldiers began pouring out to make a formal surrender-before, still carrying their weapons as Demansk had promised them, they began their own long march back to the eastern provinces from which they came.
Most of the soldiers, at least. Those who had decided to take advantage of Demansk's proclamation that the land of all noblemen under Albrecht's banner-which was a good half of them, taken as a whole, and almost three quarters of those whose estates lay in the east-was forfeit to the state. Which, in its mercy and justice, would allow any yeoman of the rebellious provinces to claim for his own. And would ask no questions regarding the status of their military service.
Enry Sharbonow had even printed up samples of the legal form which would be required to substantiate the new land tenure. A very simple and straightforward form, quite unlike the typical official document of the Confederacy. Even a half-literate foot soldier could study the thing and see how easy it was, and explain it to his fellows who could not read at all. Just grab it and get nine other people to say you're a good and proper fellow. And that's-IT. Okay, guys-we all know each other and there's ten of us. Let's go. Squad deep.
So, three brigades' worth of soldiers began a disorganized race back to their homeland, each and every one of them bound and determined to carve out for himself a farm he could live on and raise a family. And the gods save anyone who got in their way.
Not all of the soldiers, however. Quite a few, either because they were more short-sighted, filled with a more immediate greed, less ambitious, lazier-it was a long way back to the eastern provinces-decided they'd rather keep enjoying the pleasures of the capital, or, simply, were too unpleasant to have nine people ready to vouch for them, decided to take advantage of Demansk's other offer.
And a full land share taken from their estates-or half its equivalent immediately, in cash-to anyone who brings before Verice Demansk, Paramount Triumvir, the heads of any rebellious nobleman. The features must be recognizable.
A separate leaflet-a bound-together cheap little codex, actually-specifically listed the names. That was more in the way of a formality than anything else, however. Forent saw to it that his infiltrators distributed hundreds of those, as well, but precious few people within the city bothered to study the list. After ruling the roost in Vanbert for so many months, Albrecht and his cohorts were quite well known to the populace and its garrison.
Besides, the principal leaflet-distributed in thousands of copies-had the real prizes listed on it.
