Chapter 6
The great hall was filled with young men, young women, and veteran warriors. They were celebrating their last night at the citadel with a large feast. Row after row of tables were piled with roasted chickens, bread, green beans, and other foods that would be rare once they left on their adventure. It might be a while before they missed those foods, but they would miss them before the adventure was over.
Looking at all of the young man and women gathered together, Sid couldn't help but feel responsible for each one of them. Sid had been surprised when father after father had come to him to volunteer their son for the adventure. He had been shocked when some of those same men had volunteered their daughters for camp duties. His initial thought had been that they were being passed off as camp whores, but he was wise enough not to voice his thoughts.
Later, Connor told him that the women would prepare the meals and serve as nurses.
It had taken some time, but they had whittled two hundred volunteers down to a hundred and ten people. Fifty of the young men had never been on an adventure although all said their fathers had trained them. Having seen the battle scars on their fathers, Sid believed them. Thirty of the men were veterans of at least one campaign, with ten of them holding many years of experience.
Five of the veterans were scouts and would range ahead of the rest of the troop. There were ten specialists including two sappers, two healers, a blacksmith, a siege engineer, two armorers, a vet, and a wagon master. There were ten young men who would drive the eight wagons of supplies and ten young women who would take care of food and nursing.
Peterson and Connor were both coming along on the campaign.
Peterson would be responsible for getting supplies along the way while Connor would help manage the troops. Sid had assigned Barson to act as Peterson's assistant. Barson was happy with that arrangement even though Peterson had done nothing except shrug his shoulders.
Sid turned to Connor and asked, "Will we be ready to leave tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, we're ready to leave. The wagons are loaded, the troops are ready, and the weather is good," Connor answered with a negligent wave of his hand. Sid had come to recognize the wave as the ultimate sign that Connor felt he had everything under control.
When his open hand turned into a fist, then it was a sure sign that things were not going well.
Although they had gone over it several times the past few days, Sid asked, "So we start off slow and then work our way up to a full march?"
"Yes. You have to remember that most of our men haven't ever been on an adventure. Sure they think they're tough, but they've never had to march for a month solid. For the first three days we'll make about three quarters of a day's march each day. That will help toughen up the men for life on the trail and we won't lose any of them. We'll slowly increase the pace so that we make good time."
With the wagons, the women, and the cattle, Sid didn't think they'd be setting a blistering pace regardless of what Connor said.
He'd be surprised if they could set a pace of twenty miles per day.
From the center of the room a bunch of young men started laughing as Olaf did a little dance. Pointing to him, Sid said, "Olaf sure was pleased to be put in charge of the cattle."
"He's the best man for the job," Connor replied with a grin. When he had told Olaf that he was in charge of herding the cattle along with the troops, the big man had picked him up and shouted in joy.
It was very seldom that he had gotten such a reaction when assigning what was normally a dirty task to someone. Peterson had taken the young man with him when he went to purchase the cattle and had been pleased with the young man's eye for quality.
Shaking his head, he said, "This is the most talented group of young men that I've ever put together. We've got Smithson who can help the blacksmith and is darn near a Smithy in his own right.
Taylor is good with a needle and thread. Nyles is good with a hammer and will be a help to our siege engineer and wagon master. That Barson is a jewel in the rough. A few weeks more working with Peterson and he'll be about as good of a logistics support person as I've met."
Sid nodded his agreement. He'd been impressed by the diversity of skills represented in the group of young men. It made sense since they were all sons of adventurers who had been trained by their fathers. He had five groups of fifteen men each who were dedicated fighters. Each group was lead by experienced veterans.
The remaining young men were serving as field apprentices to the specialists. Sid said, "We'll be getting more people to work with us over time. I'm sure that some of the slaves that we release will want to join our fight. I'm sure that by the time we hit one of the large cities we'll have an army of over a thousand people."
"Some? I imagine that all of the men will want to fight and a significant majority of the women as well," Connor said. He knew that after being raped many of the women would be out for blood.
He feared that they would be difficult to control. He added, "You could easily end up with an army of five thousand."
Sid frowned at the idea of leading an army of that size. Looking across the room at the hundred young men and women brought a knot to his stomach. The idea that their lives depended on how well he led them was truly frightening. He said, "We'll have to leave some behind to work on the captured farms to provide us with food."
"Don't worry about that," Peterson said. He was convinced that a good percentage of the freed folks would want to stay and work the land as their own. The chance to start over would be too much for many of those who had been farmers to refuse.
"I'm worried about senior leadership," Sid said gesturing around the room. Explaining what he meant, he added, "When we get to a thousand or more people, we won't have enough experienced leaders to oversee everyone. Only three of our experienced veterans have leadership potential."
"You're right. However, by the time that our army grows to that level, this lot will be experienced. Many of them already have leadership qualities, just not the necessary knowledge. Three months of battles will change the situation a lot."
Sid thought about it. He knew that the three most important ranks were the Private, the Sergeant, and the Colonel. Privates did all of the work, Sergeants directed the Privates, and the Colonels utilized the Sergeants to achieve the objectives set by the Generals. The intermediate ranks served to expand the capabilities of the key ranks. In an army of this technological level, it was just the four ranks that mattered. Sid asked, "Are we still waiting for one more man?"
"Not any longer," replied Connor pointing to a tall aristocratic man who had just entered the hall.
"Masterson?" Peterson asked on spotting the man. The loathing in his voice was clearly obvious.
"Yes, Masterson. He's the best strategist that I know," Connor answered.
"He's an arrogant jerk."
Masterson sauntered to the table at the head of the room, picking up a goblet of watered wine on his way. Stopping in front of Sid, he looked down at the young man with clear disdain. In a condescending voice, he said, "So this is the Jones pup that we're to nursemaid."
In a single smooth motion, Sid drew his sword and had the tip at the man's throat. He had started his move after the man had said the word pup and finished it before the man had said the word nursemaid. Masterson, much to his credit, only spilled a little of his wine in reaction. Attempting a show of bravado, he tried to use his goblet to push the blade out of position while he said, "The pup has a bite."
The fact that he was unsuccessful in budging the blade was not lost on Masterson and a look of real concern crossed his face. In a calm voice, Sid said, "The pup has the point of his blade a conch thickness from your life's blood. He would like an apology or the distance will narrow quickly."
Peterson was grinning while watching the drama unfold. He was hoping that Masterson wouldn't apologize and his disappointment was clear when Masterson said, "I apologize for my rude behavior.
You are quite correct in calling me out on it."
"Your apology is accepted. Have a seat here at the table," Sid said as he returned his sword to its sheath. Once it was sheathed, he sat back in his chair.
Masterson said, "You are clearly of the same stock as Gerald. He didn't tolerate insults either."
"I don't tolerate insults directed at me or those who serve with me," Sid said lightly despite the slight threat involved in his words.
Peterson laughed and patted Sid on the back. The mirth in his voice was obvious when he said, "This is going to be a fun adventure."
Sid looked over at Peterson surprised by the laughter. In all of his dealings with the older man up to that time, the man had been sparse in his words and dour in temperament. He understood the man's attitude. Peterson knew that if he failed in his job, they could lose a war without ever engaging the enemy. Starvation, thirst, and disease could kill troops in much greater numbers than a battle. His first adventure had been one of total misery created by a failure of logistics on the part of another.
The unusual behavior wasn't lost on Masterson and he commented,
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you happy when getting a good deal on fifty pounds of grain wasn't involved."
"He enjoyed seeing you get put in your place like that almost as much as I did. You might be a brilliant strategist, but you destroy troop morale. Let's see if you can request supplies ahead of time and limit casualties on this campaign," Connor said.
"What do you mean?" Masterson asked indignant at the accusation.
"I mean that you should put some of your strategic thinking into what happens before the engagement and not just on moving men around like so many little markers on a board game," Connor answered.
"I thought you said that he was the best."
Nodding his head, Connor answered, "He is. He can take an army that is outnumbered thirty to one and still win the engagement. The problem is that he'll tell Peterson that he needs a thousand staffs ten minutes before the fight begins. Peterson has to run around like a chicken with its head cut off getting everything together. Even worse, he'll accept more casualties than necessary just to win with style."
Sid examined Masterson as if he were a bug under a glass for a full minute. Turning to Peterson, he asked, "How did my Uncle react the first time that he did that kind of stuff?"
"Take a guess."
"He shot him in the ass with an arrow?"
Connor laughed at the idea, but answered, "After the first time, he assigned Masterson to a unit to fight beside the men. He decided which unit he would assign him to at the last minute. Usually it was the one that stood the least chance of surviving."
Sid smiled and said, "I'll probably do the same thing, but I'll shoot him in the ass with an arrow first. I'll do the same for any man who jeopardizes my men unnecessarily. If someone does it twice, I'll kill him."
Feeling like Sid was being over dramatic, Masterson said, "Big talk."
Eyes flashing, Sid hit the table with his fist. The sound echoed through the room and all eyes turned to stare at him. In a low growl, Sid said, "I had seventy fathers in here telling me to take care of their sons and daughters. Anyone who puts me in a position where I have to look in a father's eyes and tell him that their child died because some asshole threw away his life is going to suffer. I do not kid about things of this seriousness. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Masterson said swallowing heavily.
"Gods, he sounded just like Gerald there," Peterson said.
Looking over at the room of startled faces, Sid shouted, "Do I make myself clear?"
Shouts erupted through the entire room as individuals confirmed that they understood exactly what Sid had said. Standing up and leaning over the table, Sid said, "Comrades in arms, listen to me!
Fighting is dangerous hard work. Do not delude yourself into thinking this is a game. Some of us will not survive this campaign.
Some of us may not return home whole men. That is the nature of armed conflict.
"Our enemy is evil. They are slavers. They view people as little more than animals that they can buy and sell. They will kill you with no more thought than they would kill a chicken. If you are too wounded to work and they capture you, they will kill you. If you are captured, they will turn you into a beast of burden. You will work from sunrise to sunset without break. If you do not work hard enough, they will beat you. You will be fed just enough to keep you alive. They will work you until the day you die.
"I will do my best to get you home, healthy, whole, and a little richer. I ask that you fight hard when it is necessary for us to fight.
I do not ask that you fight to protect me. I remind you that you fight to protect every man and woman who stands beside you in battle. From this day forth, your lives depend on the men who march with you. Let me assure you that you are in good company.
"Eat up and enjoy this evening for we march at dawn tomorrow!"
Sid sat down as the men and women gathered shouted their approval. Peterson looked over at Sid and nodded with approval.
Masterson watched Sid with more respect than he had shown anyone in ages. Connor muttered, "He's so much like his Uncle."
They had been marching for three weeks. Sid stopped his horse and looked back over the troops following him. The mounted warriors were riding three abreast. Behind them were the wagons.
Behind the wagons was the herd of cattle. Their overall pace was slow, held back by the cattle. Sid turned to Masterson and said,
"This is not the way I planned to fight. We need to be quick agile army, not a wagon train."
Pulling up his horse to stand next to Sid, Masterson said, "We'll set up a camp in a protected location and ride out in raids from there. Each raid will be about thirty men and we'll stagger their departures so that it appears as if it is a single group that is striking out in single direction. The camp will move every ten days on a line parallel to our apparent path of attack."
Sid nodded his head and said, "When they gather an army together to head us off, we'll be in a position where we'll be able to attack them from what ever direction we want."
A scout rode up to Sid. His horse had been ridden hard. Despite his concern, Sid waited for the man to get control. The scout said,
"There's a small town a day's ride ahead of us. It's been burned to the ground. All of the old and very young have been killed. A few men and women are there who might have been killed resisting the attackers."
"Slavers?"
"Looks like it. We're about two days behind them," the scout said.
Sid looked over at Masterson and asked, "What do you think? Can we rescue them?"
"It'll take us about five days to catch up with them on horseback,"
Masterson said. Shaking his head, he said, "We don't know enough about what's going on to risk going that far ahead without scouting the area first."
"That's if we ride at regular pace. What if we push it?"
"We can catch up in three, but the horses will be shot."
Sid didn't like the thought of the slavers getting away, but it looked like this particular group was going to be lucky. He thought about it for a minute and then said, "We're going to move the army up to the town that was burned down. We'll stay there for a couple of days while we get more information about what is ahead of us.
"Get horses from ten of the men. Have two of the scouts ride ahead leading a train of five horses each. Have them change horses every hour until they catch up to the slavers. I want them to follow the slavers for three days and detail everything that they do during that time."
Masterson nodded his head and said, "That seems as good of a plan as any."
The army marched into the town sickened by what they saw. Sid looked at the bodies strewn about the main street. Little children had their heads caved in, apparently the result of a mace. The same was true of the elderly. In the center of town, Sid stopped to look down at the body of a woman. She'd been staked out spread eagle on the ground, her clothes ripped from her body, and then killed. It didn't take much imagination to guess that she's been raped before she had been killed.
Sid turned to face his army and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, look around you. This is the work of slavers. They kill the young and the old because they can't sell the young and the old."
Olaf stepped forward and shouted, "Death to the slavers!"
His cry was echoed along the length of the street. Sid shouted, "We will bring death to the slavers, but first we must honor the dead!"
The army was suddenly silent. The troops waited for him to select a burial squad. Considering the condition of the bodies, it was going to be a nasty job. None of them wanted it, but they'd do it.
Burial was common in towns and homesteads. Cremation was more common after a battle. They wondered which form he would order.
Sid climbed off his horse and went to one of the wagons. He grabbed a shovel and went to the body of a child. He picked it up and carried it to a small patch of ground. Setting the body on the ground, he began to dig. He worked alone for less than a minute before others joined him with shovels.
Sid didn't stop working until every body in the town had been buried. When the last person had been put to rest, he stood and said, "Let's make camp."
Masterson had watched Sid working. He shook his head amazed at how he had led them to perform one of the worst tasks that fell upon soldiers. They had followed him without complaint. Turning to Connor, he said, "That man has earned the respect of every man and woman following him. Imagine using the dead to bind your people closer to you."
Connor glanced at Masterson and said, "You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"He didn't do that to cement the relationship with the men. He did it to honor the people who had been killed so ruthlessly. He has regard for human dignity, something that you need to learn,"
Connor said.
Connor stepped away to find Barson standing next to him. He smiled and said, "We should go through the houses here and look for items that our army will need."
"That's kind of like robbing the dead," Barson said looking at the remains of the houses.
"The owners are waiting for us to rescue them," Connor said rather than order Barson to do something distasteful. He said, "Don't worry. We will pay them for their goods by returning to them their freedom."
"Yes, sir," Barson said turning to attend to his task.
Sid walked over to where the women were getting ready to cook.
He said, "Prepare noodles tonight and make them spicy. Use some of the beef left from last night to flavor it."
The woman in charge asked, "Why?"
"I don't want them to kill one of the cattle tonight," Sid said. The stench of death was still in the air. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
He said, "There's too much death around here. We don't want to add to it."
"Good thinking," she said. She turned and left to let the cooks know what they were preparing for dinner. The sounds of large pots being drug out of wagons soon filled the air. Noodles were a stable of an army. They were portable, didn't spoil, cooked quickly, and could be flavored to provide variety. No one would complain about noodles that night.
Sid rode off to find Olaf. Once he reached the area where the cattle were grazing, he spotted Olaf directing one of the young men. He rode over and said, "Don't slaughter any of the herd tonight.
There's been too much death here."
"Thanks," Olaf said feeling relieved. He didn't want to butcher an animal after dealing with the bodies. Looking around, he said,
"There should be some cattle around here. We'll want to collect them or else they'll go wild."
"Check the barns for other livestock," Sid said. He knew that the collection of resources was an integral part of moving an army. He looked around the town and thought about how life must have been just a few days earlier.
One of the scouts rode up and said, "We found two farms a day's ride down the road that were untouched, one on each side of the road. It looks to me like they have collected all the animals from the places around them that were burned out. There are also people working in the fields. Here's the worst part, the people are wearing collars."
Sid looked over to Olaf and said, "Stick with the cattle for now. It looks like we've just found our first group of slave owners."
Turning back to the scout, Sid said, "Come with me. We need to talk to Masterson."
When Masterson heard the scout's report, he said, "You have to admire their greed. A couple of slave owners travel out with the slavers. They probably use their slaves to make the slavers comfortable on the trip out. Once the slavers leave, they take the nicest places and rob the rest. Instant homestead and the crops are all ready in place."
With a chill in his voice, Sid said, "I don't think greed is an admirable quality."
Ignoring the rebuke, Masterson said, "It'll be dark soon, so we can't leave now. We'll head out early in the morning and we'll have to take them the next day."
Sid gestured to one of the experienced warriors. When the man came over, Sid said, "Double the guards tonight. There's a plantation a day's ride down the road. We don't want to be surprised."
"Yes, sir," the man said before rushing off to take care of the matter. Masterson watched the near instantaneous actions of the men to Sid's orders.
Sid unfolded his map of the area and laid it where the Masterson, the scout, and him could see it. He said, "The next town sits on a crossroads. I imagine that the slavers have been hard at work along the road that crosses this one."
"You're probably right," Masterson agreed.
Sid said, "We'll follow your original plan. This place will be our first major encampment. We'll raid from here for ten days and then move on."
Masterson traced out the routes that he assumed would have been taken by the slavers. Shaking his head, he said, "The slavers are moving fast. In the five weeks since the report that we've heard about a village falling four weeks ride from the Jones citadel, they've advanced a week's ride. That's an incredible rate of expansion."
"What do you make of that?"
"They are very organized. Someone is leading this effort and he's good at it. I'm going to revise my campaign strategy to take that into account."
"In what way?" Sid asked.
"You are going to need a larger army."