The army waited in silence. The scouts had just reported seeing a large contingent of Polypontian cavalry on the road ahead, and a halt had been called. No order to ready weapons had been given, but the atmosphere was heavy with a nervous expectation that seemed to tingle through the air.
Cressida could hear the tiny creaks and groans of saddle leather as her horse breathed. In the nervous silence, the rustle and snap of the cold wind in the empire’s banner sounded as loud as the mainsail of a galleon in a storm.
Then, far off in the distance, an indistinct gathering of shadow and colour slowly resolved itself into a large contingent of horses that cantered towards them. Andronicus snapped open his monoculum, and peered without comment for a few seconds, before giving a bark of relieved laughter.
“Yes. It’s Leonidas. And by the look of it, he has upwards of two thousand cavalry with him.”
Thirrin held out her hand wordlessly and, after receiving the monoculum, looked long and hard at the troopers heading towards them. “I see, yes. I presume the good-looking young man at their head is Commander Leonidas?”
“Yes, indeed. Luckily for him, he has his mother’s Hellenic beauty.”
Thirrin looked meaningfully at Oskan, who sat next to her on a droop-eared mule, before she silently handed the monoculum to Cressida. The Crown Princess showed masterly control and barely snatched at all, then she quickly trained the lens on the advancing cavalry, and just as quickly snapped the instrument shut and handed it back to Andronicus.
“I have an inspection to carry out,” she said and started to turn her horse about.
“The Crown Princess will stay exactly where she is,” Thirrin said, recognising this sudden call of other duties as an acute case of nerves.
Cressida’s horse sidled close to her mother’s, and she leaned from the saddle to whisper, “I can’t stay! He’s . . . he’s . . . and I’m . . . well, I’m a veteran of too much fighting and not enough taking care of my appearance.”
Thirrin felt an almost unbearable upwelling of love for her daughter. She really had no idea how beautiful she was; not only beautiful but striking, with a pale flawless complexion and profile, coupled with the family colouring of flame-red hair and green eyes.
“You will carry out your duties as the Crown Princess of the Icemark,” she whispered, knowing that it would be useless to tell her daughter that any young man would fall over himself to spend even a minute in her company – unless, of course, he was a soldier under her command who’d done something wrong. “To gallop away now would be an insult to the Commander!”
Cressida’s eyes blazed with anger for a moment, but then she nodded curtly and guided her horse back to its position next to General Andronicus. By now the thunder of the approaching horses’ hooves could clearly be heard, and a murmur ran through the gathered ranks of the army.
“They ride well,” said Tharaman-Thar.
“And their horses are beautiful,” Krisafitsa added.
“From the Imperial riding stables in Romula itself. The finest blood stock in the empire,” said Andronicus proudly.
“It shows, General. And may I add, that your son too is a fine-looking young man.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” he replied, bowing in his saddle. “His mother was as beautiful as moonlit snow.”
“But do they fight as well as they look?” asked Grishmak brusquely.
“The fact that Romula still stands at all is almost entirely due to the Imperial cavalry and its tactics of harassment and containment.”
“Hit and run, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
“And what about a toe-to-toe slug-out?”
“The cavalry performed as well as poor supply and equipment allowed in the later battles with Erinor,” Andronicus replied openly. “But Leonidas and his cavalry have now perfected the art of meeting their own needs.”
“So they forage and plunder.”
“I prefer the term ‘living off the land’.”
“Leave the General alone, Grishmak,” said Oskan, who’d been deep in silent thought as he watched the cavalry approach. “We’ll be ‘living off the land’ ourselves as soon as our supplies have run out.”
“True enough,” the werewolf King agreed. “I’m just trying to gauge the young man, that’s all. And if I were you, Oskan Witchfather, I’d do exactly the same, especially if I had a daughter who suddenly seems to have gone off her feed.”
“Oh, I’ve been gauging for quite some time now,” said Oskan quietly.
Luckily for all concerned, Cressida had been too preoccupied with the approaching cavalry to hear the exchange, and her eyes narrowed as the horses reined to a halt and stood sidling and snorting only a few metres away. All of the troopers, and the horses themselves, looked hard-bitten and tough, with none of the usual glitter and finesse of the Imperial cavalry. They had the air of soldiers who’d been fighting for months, and who still had the energy and will to fight on for many more.
Leonidas, their commander, scanned the people before him, and his face broke into a radiant grin as he spotted his father. Quickly he dismounted, threw his reins to a companion, and strode forward. It looked like he was going to greet his father first, but then, seeming to collect himself, he slowed, stopped and bowed low to all in general.
Andronicus dismounted and the two embraced with much back-slapping and a rapid tumble of words in Polypontian. But then the general reverted to the language of the Icemark and, leading his son towards Thirrin’s horse, he introduced him.
“Your Majesty, may I present my son Leonidas Augustus Andronicus. Commander of cavalry, loyal son of the empire, and, I’m proud to say, of myself.”
Thirrin observed the young man through unconsciously narrowed eyes that assessed him coldly. “Commander Leonidas, I see you have a sizeable force of cavalry with you. Have they recently seen action?” Even now, when the young man who’d reduced her daughter to an emotional wreck without even being seen stood before her, the needs of the war and of tactics came first.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Erinor and her Hordes have begun their advance into the Polypontian heartland, and we’ve been doing everything possible to disrupt their march.”
“They’ve begun the attack?” asked Tharaman eagerly. “What’re their numbers; how long before they reach Romula?”
Leonidas gazed in wonder for a few moments at the power and majesty of the Thar, the almost legendary talking Snow Leopard who’d figured so largely in the defeat of the Bellorum clan. Then, collecting himself, the young man bowed low and answered; “Great Thar, their numbers are impossible to count accurately; will it be sufficient for me to say that they outnumber this army of Allies by many countless thousands?”
Tharaman nodded. “It would, young man, and I suppose strict accuracy isn’t really necessary; ever since I first began to fight in the wars of human beings, I’ve always been outnumbered. It seems to be the natural order of things. But what of Romula; how long before it’s besieged?”
“I’d estimate a week. There are still several units of cavalry resisting their advance, but they’re unstoppable.”
“Wouldn’t they be better dismounted and defending the walls of the city?” asked Grishmak, stepping forward from amongst the horses.
Leonidas paused again as he was confronted by yet another walking legend. Who else could this huge and monstrous creature be, other than King Grishmak Blood-Drinker of the Wolf-folk? “Your Majesty, the walls of the capital city are indefensible – they’re crumbling and breached in many places, and the defensive ditches have become mere hollows in the ground, choked as they are by centuries of debris. Not only that, but there are huge distances of walls and too few soldiers to man them. The Military Governor of the city has decided it will be easier to defend Romula by fighting for control of the streets.”
“And the Emperor?” asked Thirrin succinctly.
“He is in the Imperial Palace, along with all senior members of the Senate. Barricades have been thrown up around i
t, and the greatest concentration of troops are stationed to defend the precinct.”
“I presume the squadrons of cavalry now harassing Erinor’s advance will fall back to the city and join the defence?” Thirrin asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then the race for Romula is on! How far to the city from here?”
“Ma’am, an army of this size will take at least eight days to reach its walls.”
“Too long, the Hordes will have it by then. We’ll do it in six!” She barked a tumble of orders to all around her, and immediately heralds scrambled to take the news of Leonidas’s arrival and the development of the war to all sections and units. Within minutes the army rolled forward. All now knew the need for speed, and the massive host advanced over the land like an unstoppable flood.
Leonidas and his cavalry were assimilated into the whole with almost frightening ease, and he found himself trotting along between his father and Queen Thirrin.
“Have you and your men eaten, Commander?” a voice suddenly asked, and Leonidas turned in his saddle to see a tall, slightly-built man riding on a mule. A strong sense of power and authority seemed to beat on the air around the figure, and he suddenly realised with a pang of fear that he was being addressed by Oskan Witchfather.
“We have, thank you, My Lord,” he answered, confused and puzzled that such a powerful Warlock should be bothered about whether he’d had breakfast that morning.
“I’m a healer, Commander Leonidas. It’s my principal concern on this expedition to ensure the health of the army,” the Witchfather said in irritable tones. It was almost as though he’d read his mind and found his confusion annoying.
“Of-of course, My Lord,” he stammered, still amazed that someone with supposedly huge magical powers should concern himself with such mundane matters.
“Tell me, Commander, are you more likely to achieve success with a healthy, well-fed army, or with a disease-ravished, malnourished rabble?”
The Warlock was still reading his mind! He immediately blushed and blurted, “Well-fed . . . and-and . . . healthy, of-of-of course.”
“I’m sure the Commander understands your point, my dear,” Thirrin said gently. “Allow him a little time to come to terms with his new allies. It’s not every day that a Polypontian officer speaks with werewolves, Snow Leopards and Warlocks.”
“Ah, of course. You’ll have received the much-vaunted Polypontian education in rationality, science and all things quantifiable, will you not, Commander Leonidas? So how do you find conversing with physical impossibilities and abominations of nature?” Oskan asked in acid tones.
“Erm . . . very nice, thank you,” he answered lamely.
“‘Very nice’? Is that all? But you’re consorting with the totally impossible, according to your scientific beliefs!”
“Yes . . . I mean no . . . I mean, it’s very, very nice.”
“Did you hear that, Grishmak? It’s very, very nice to talk to you,” Oskan called to the werewolf King, who’d been chatting with Krisafitsa a few paces back.
“Is that right? I’m glad to hear it; I’ll allow you to buy me a pint tonight in celebration, boy.”
“Certainly, sir, it’ll be my pleasure!”
“Will it? Good, in which case you can buy me two!”
“Stop it, both of you!” a voice suddenly snapped and Leonidas turned to see a beautiful young woman who was so like Queen Thirrin she couldn’t fail to be Cressida the Crown Princess. “This commander has risked his life to join us and bring vital information, and I won’t have him pilloried by two vicious old stoats that seem to think they’re being funny!”
“Strange, I thought I was introducing him to the rough and tumble of the Icemark’s courtly life,” said Oskan with a wicked grin.
“Were you? I thought I was just lining up a few pints of beer,” remarked Grishmak. “Could you see your way clear to a pork pie and some pickles as well, Commander?”
“Er . . . yes, certainly . . .”
“Enough!” Cressida cut in loudly. “Grishmak, I believe you were talking to the Tharina, so you can just go back and carry on with your conversation. And Dad, one of your supply wagons has broken an axle. You’d better see to it if you don’t want to be left behind; there’s no room for stragglers, you know.”
Oskan bowed ironically and turned his mule about, happy in the knowledge that he’d given his daughter a comfortable means of introducing herself to a young man she obviously found fascinating. When it came to social niceties she was hopeless, but give her a bullied stranger to rescue and her sense of outraged justice would give her the confidence she needed.
“I’m sorry about that,” Cressida said to Leonidas. “They don’t mean any real harm by it, they’ve just got a funny sense of humour.”
“Oh, that’s-that’s-that’s fine . . .” the commander said, trying not to let his jaw drop as he remembered how she’d dismissed the huge werewolf King as though he was a naughty schoolboy.
“Dad normally has more of a sense of decorum, but what with the strain of the war, and having to look after the entire army, I suppose he just forgot his manners.”
Leonidas shot her an incredulous glance; was she really talking about the most powerful Warlock that had ever walked the earth? “Don’t-don’t-don’t, you know, don’t worry about it. It’s-it’s fine.”
They both looked at each other and suddenly realised that they’d just about used up all the good excuses for talking, and immediately blushed like twin sunsets. “Well, I suppose I’d better inspect the troops or something,” said Cressida, her toes curling in excruciating embarrassment. What a stupid thing to say! ‘Inspect the troops’? Of all the moronic excuses!
“Yes, fine . . .” Leonidas mumbled. And then as an afterthought added: “. . . Your Royal Highness.”
“Oh, no, don’t. I mean you don’t have to. I’m only an ordinary woman like everyone else . . . I mean, like every other woman . . . not like everyone else because not everyone’s a woman . . . obviously . . .” Oh, Goddess! This was getting worse!
“I know what you mean . . .”
Thirrin, who’d discreetly dropped back with Andronicus to allow the two to talk, could see that a crisis point had been reached, and she urged her horse forward again. “I believe the Commander saw action recently, isn’t that right, Leonidas?”
“Yes, at Bright Water River,” he answered, confident now that he had a safe subject to talk about.
“How many of the Hordes were there?” Thirrin asked, determined to keep the conversation going until Cressida felt confident enough to rejoin it.
“Quite a sizeable party. They were advance engineers, trying to build pontoon bridges for the rest of their army.”
“How fascinating!” Krisafitsa trotted up, desperate to help the ‘poor young things’ get to know each other. “Did they put up much of a fight?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered, bowing in his saddle, as this was the first time he’d spoken to the Tharina. “They’d dug defences, and we feinted a frontal attack while I sent out detachments to take them in both flanks.”
“Classic pincer manoeuvre,” said Cressida, her interest in the skirmish at last overwhelming her crippling shyness. “Did it work?”
“Yes, eventually. But they fought hard, and we lost a few troopers. Still, we killed more of them, drove off the survivors and destroyed the groundwork they’d laid for the bridges.”
Crown Princess and commander ground to a conversational halt again and Krisafitsa stepped resolutely into the breach. “How long have you been in the field, exactly?”
Leonidas opened his mouth to reply, then paused as though taken by surprise. “More than a year without a break, ma’am,” he finally said, and then began to brush at the buff coat and breastplate of his cavalry uniform. “I probably look a complete mess. I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a few hours in a town of any size; we usually bivouac in the countryside somewhere.”
“You look wonder
ful,” said Cressida distractedly, and then realising she’d spoken aloud, she coughed and blushed such a deep and fiery red that Thirrin wondered if she could set light to paper just by touching it to her cheeks.
Krisafitsa rallied once more, and went on: “Well, we’ve brought along a few home comforts that I’m sure you’d enjoy; there are baths, for example. I know humans like to soak their bodies in hot water, oddly enough, and perhaps Cressida could keep you company.” The splutters and coughs which followed this warned the Tharina that perhaps this wasn’t acceptable behaviour in human circles, at least not amongst young humans who’d only just met. “Ah, but there again, perhaps not. Maybe Cressida could meet you after your bath and you could . . . chat.”
The Snow Leopard retreated, bloodied but unbowed, and allowed Andronicus to step in. “Leonidas won several decorations in the opening stages of the war, didn’t you, my boy? Of course, we still had hopes at that point of containing the Hordes, but then supplies dried up and we began the long defeat that we’ve suffered up until now. Still, if we’d had enough ammunition and reinforcements, I’m sure Leonidas would have been at the forefront of a glorious victory!”
This succeeded in only making the Commander look even more uncomfortable, but Cressida couldn’t hide her admiration. “What decorations were they?”
“Two Exemplary Conduct medals, and an Imperial Cross – which, as we all know, is the highest order for bravery that the empire can bestow,” said Andronicus.
The breathless silence that this fell into somehow signalled the end of the conversation, and they all rode on quietly, with Cressida and Leonidas staring resolutely ahead, but side by side.
Andronicus was more than happy with the unexpected turn of events. After all, if his son and the Crown Princess were to strike up a relationship, the political advantages would be enormous. Bless the young, he thought to himself, and bless the mighty hormone. But then a less cynical part of his brain took over, and he fell to reminiscing about his long-dead wife and the wonderful effect she’d had on a young, slightly overweight officer so long ago.