Princeps

“Ambush the ambushers,” added Meinyt.

“That’s the idea. We’ll be taking a back lane to get in position. Once we get near, we’ll have to be silent. No noise at all, after I give the command for silence. No talking, clanking … swearing. We’re going to try to get as close to the rear of the Bovarians as we can. Being quiet means more surprise and fewer casualties. When we finish here, I want you to pass that on to your squad leaders, and they need to make sure every man understands that.” Quaeryt paused.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to have to travel a lane for part of the way that’s narrow, and when we get to the end of that lane, you’ll need to shift your men into an attack formation. Can you do it without calling out orders? With hand signals or something like that.”

“So long as we only have to do that once,” said Meinyt.

“Can you do that twice, once for the formation, and then a charge right after they’re in position?”

“Should be able to do that.” Meinyt looked to Zhelan.

“Yes, sir.”

“How fast can you shift your companies from a four abreast column to an attack formation?” Quaeryt asked.

“Be a lot quicker if I could use five abreast.”

Quaeryt considered, then said, “Then set them up five abreast, but they’ll be crowded on the lane.”

“Better crowded than taking too much time.”

Less than half a quint later, one of Skarpa’s scouts was guiding Quaeryt’s force through a meadow and past a woodlot, and then onto a rutted and slightly muddy lane that headed southward, if in a more winding way than the main river road. The lane followed a brook, in a general fashion, and moved in and out of woods. Farther ahead were several outriders, whom Quaeryt had cautioned to avoid being seen, if they could, and to return and report immediately if they saw signs of any Bovarian troopers.

Before that long, they came to a hamlet of less than a score of small houses, cots, dilapidated wooden outbuildings. Immediately, the handful of crofters and growers vanished into their dwellings … or into the woods to the east of the hamlet, as did their children. Seemingly, in moments, the entire hamlet was silent, and the only animal Quaeryt saw was a calico cat on a woodpile, regally surveying the troopers in the way only cats can, Quaeryt thought.

“Just keep riding,” Quaeryt said quietly.

Beyond the hamlet the lane moved through an area that was lightly wooded with grass between the trees, and then toward a narrow stand of trees below the low hillside that held the Bovarians, a hillside low enough that the trees provided somewhat of a block to seeing the lane.

Even so, Quaeryt signaled for silence, then dropped his personal shields and took a deep breath. After a few moments, he concentrated. How long can you hold a concealment shield this large? He’d already abandoned his personal shields, and he wasn’t even certain how long he could cover the front of the formation … but every yard that they could get closer to the Bovarians meant that much greater the surprise, even shock.

In another quint, the first part of the column neared the point on the lane where it wound around the base of the hillside. The Bovarian regiment was stationed on higher ground and facing westward, and away from the lane, except for a rear guard of perhaps a company, set a good hundred yards down the slope, arranged in four separated squads.

Quaeryt signaled to Meinyt, and the battalion moved out of the lane.

Quaeryt could see a number of the Bovarian rear guards looking around, clearly puzzled, but not yet seeing anything, but obviously hearing the muffled sounds of riders. He hoped they would think that the Telaryn force was simply much farther away.

Quaeryt himself could feel the strain of holding the concealment, but Third Battalion was still not in position.

Come on. Move! Get those mounts in place. Gritting his teeth, he eased his half- staff from its leathers.

He could see more than a few Telaryn troopers were as puzzled by the reaction-or the lack of it-by the Bovarians, but to their credit, none of Meinyt’s and Zhelan’s troopers said a word.

“Telaryns somewhere!” came the call-in Bovarian.

“Where?”

“Can’t see them!”

“Send scouts down that lane.”

“Scouts went up the path to the north!”

“Send more!”

Another half quint passed before Meinyt looked to Quaeryt.

Here goes! Quaeryt raised his staff … then dropped it.

Without a verbal command, not all the companies charged up the gentle slope exactly in an even line, but Quaeryt could see that they were all moving.

He decided against dropping the concealment, even when his company slammed into one of the rearguard squads, although the Bovarians could see within it, as could his own troopers, but it would appear to the Bovarian troops higher on the hillside that the rear guard had simply vanished-if many of them were even looking.

Without personal shields, Quaeryt found himself knocking aside one Bovarian’s sabre and then slamming his half-staff into the skull of another Bovarian.

“At the main force!” Meinyt yelled as the battalion largely swept through the scattered, outmanned, and confused rear guard.

Quaeryt dropped the concealment when the troopers before him were some fifteen yards short of the Bovarians. Even as he managed to rebuild personal shields he doubted he could hold for much longer, he could see the shock and consternation as Third Battalion crashed into and through the rear of the Bovarian regiment.

Two large cavalrymen, wearing breastplates and skullcap helmets, spurred their mounts toward Quaeryt, one swinging a sabre and the other thrusting. Quaeryt’s shields turned both blades, but not without him feeling like he’d been hammered across his upper body. Still, he managed a backcut with the staff that dropped one from the saddle before recovering the staff and bracing it against the saddle and using it as a lance of sorts against the next Bovarian.

For a time he couldn’t even guess, all Quaeryt did was try to avoid blows while delivering them.

Then he heard an unfamiliar horn signal, and the fighting around him and around Zhelan’s company seemed to fade, and Quaeryt could see that the foot and the cavalry of the first Bovarian force had scattered, although several companies on the south end of the hill managed to withdraw in a half orderly fashion toward the second Bovarian force.

“On the left flank … follow me!”

As Meinyt swung Third Battalion to the south, Quaeryt saw exactly what the major had in mind by pursuing the withdrawing companies into the other Bovarian force.

“Zhelan! Take the right of Third Battalion!” Quaeryt image-boosted his voice, despite the momentary light- headedness that caused, then swung the mare to parallel the captain’s charge.

Skarpa’s front moved slowly, almost hesitantly, and Quaeryt wondered why, until he saw the Bovarians charge downhill toward Third Regiment. Then the Third pulled back even more, redressing their lines. A good score of mounts of the heavy cavalry leading the Bovarian charge went down at the edge of the bean fields.

Must have been a bigger ditch there …

That was all Quaeryt had time to think about, because he and Zhelan’s company were almost upon the flank of the Bovarians, all foot. While the foot had turned to face the riders, none of them had spears or pikes, and most of the first few ranks went down under sabres and hooves. Quaeryt used the half-staff as a thrusting weapon, braced against his saddle and shields.

Halfway into the foot formation, the charge slowed, and some of the riders went down, their mounts cut from under them, and more foot swarmed toward Third Battalion.

Quaeryt found himself near the edge between the armed foot and stalled cavalry. Widening his shields slightly, and hoping he could hold them long enough, he urged the mare forward, and then turned her upslope at a