they had yet to start shaving.
‘They’re good, but only on a parade ground. Take them out in the rough and their formations go all to pieces. They need more field manoeuvres.’
Corfe nodded. ‘They will get them soon enough. Gentlemen, we have dispatches just in from Aras in the north. The Sea of Tor is now largely clear of ice, and Himerian transports are as thick upon it as flies on jam. The enemy is massively reinforcing his outposts in the gap. At least two other armies are marching down from Tarber and Finnmark. They began crossing the Tourbering river on the fifteenth.’
‘Any idea about numbers, sir?’ a squat, brutal-looking officer asked.
‘The Finnmarkan and Tarberan forces total at least forty thousand men. Added to the troops already in position, and I believe we could well be talking in the region of seventy thousand.’
There was a murmur of dismay. Aras had less than half that in Gaderion.
‘It will take them at least four or five days to cross the river. Aras sent out a flying column last month which burned the bridges, and the Tourbering is in full spate with the meltwater from the mountains.’
‘But once they’re across,’ the squat officer pointed out,
‘they’ll make good time across the plains south of there. Any word on composition, sir?’
‘Very little, Comillan. Local intelligence is poor. We do know that King Skarp-Hedin is present in person, as is Prince Adalbard of Tarber. The northern principalities have historically been weak in cavalry. Their backbone is heavy infantry.’
‘Gallowglasses,’ someone said, and Corfe nodded.
‘Old-fashioned, but still effective, even against horse. And their skirmishers continue to use javelins. Good troops for rough ground, but not of much account in the open. My guess is that the Himerians will send out a screen of the light northern troops before probing with their heavies.’
They all stared at the map and its counters. Now the red blocks laid square across the inked line of the Tourbering river had a distinctively menacing air. Similar blocks were set in a line north-east of the Sea of Tor. Opposing them all was the single blue square of Aras’s command.
‘If that’s their plan, then it buys us some time,’ Formio said, breaking the silence. ‘The northerners will be almost two weeks marching across the Torian Plains.’
‘Yes,’ Corfe agreed. ‘Enough time for us to reinforce Aras. I plan to transport many of our own troops upon the Torrin, which will save time, and wear and tear on the horses.’
‘This is it then, Corfe?’ Formio asked. ‘The general mobilisation?’
Corfe met his friend’s eye. ‘This is it, Formio. All roads, it seems, lead to the gap. They may try and sneak a few columns through the southern foothills, but the Cimbriani will help take care of those. And Admiral Berza is liaising with the Nalbeni in the Kardian to protect that southern flank.’
‘Bad terrain,’ Comillan said. His black eyes were hooded and he tugged at the ends of his heavy moustache reflectively. “Those foothills up around Gaderion are pretty broken. The cavalry will be next to useless, unless we remount them on goats.’
1
know’ Corfe told him. ‘They’ve pushed their outposts right up to the mountains, so we’ve little room to manoeuvre unless we abandon Gaderion and fall back to the plains below. And that, gentlemen, will not happen.’
‘So we’re on the defensive, then?’ a voice asked. The senior officers turned. It was Ensign Baraz. His fellow subalterns stared at him in shock for a second and then stood wooden and insensible. One moved slightly on the balls of his feet, as though he would like to be physically disassociated from his colleague’s temerity.
‘Who in hell—?’ Comillan began angrily, but Corfe held up a hand.
‘Is that your conclusion, Ensign?’
The young man flushed. ‘Our forces have been brought up thinking of the offensive, sir. It’s how they are trained and
‘They’re good, but only on a parade ground. Take them out in the rough and their formations go all to pieces. They need more field manoeuvres.’
Corfe nodded. ‘They will get them soon enough. Gentlemen, we have dispatches just in from Aras in the north. The Sea of Tor is now largely clear of ice, and Himerian transports are as thick upon it as flies on jam. The enemy is massively reinforcing his outposts in the gap. At least two other armies are marching down from Tarber and Finnmark. They began crossing the Tourbering river on the fifteenth.’
‘Any idea about numbers, sir?’ a squat, brutal-looking officer asked.
‘The Finnmarkan and Tarberan forces total at least forty thousand men. Added to the troops already in position, and I believe we could well be talking in the region of seventy thousand.’
There was a murmur of dismay. Aras had less than half that in Gaderion.
‘It will take them at least four or five days to cross the river. Aras sent out a flying column last month which burned the bridges, and the Tourbering is in full spate with the meltwater from the mountains.’
‘But once they’re across,’ the squat officer pointed out,
‘they’ll make good time across the plains south of there. Any word on composition, sir?’
‘Very little, Comillan. Local intelligence is poor. We do know that King Skarp-Hedin is present in person, as is Prince Adalbard of Tarber. The northern principalities have historically been weak in cavalry. Their backbone is heavy infantry.’
‘Gallowglasses,’ someone said, and Corfe nodded.
‘Old-fashioned, but still effective, even against horse. And their skirmishers continue to use javelins. Good troops for rough ground, but not of much account in the open. My guess is that the Himerians will send out a screen of the light northern troops before probing with their heavies.’
They all stared at the map and its counters. Now the red blocks laid square across the inked line of the Tourbering river had a distinctively menacing air. Similar blocks were set in a line north-east of the Sea of Tor. Opposing them all was the single blue square of Aras’s command.
‘If that’s their plan, then it buys us some time,’ Formio said, breaking the silence. ‘The northerners will be almost two weeks marching across the Torian Plains.’
‘Yes,’ Corfe agreed. ‘Enough time for us to reinforce Aras. I plan to transport many of our own troops upon the Torrin, which will save time, and wear and tear on the horses.’
‘This is it then, Corfe?’ Formio asked. ‘The general mobilisation?’
Corfe met his friend’s eye. ‘This is it, Formio. All roads, it seems, lead to the gap. They may try and sneak a few columns through the southern foothills, but the Cimbriani will help take care of those. And Admiral Berza is liaising with the Nalbeni in the Kardian to protect that southern flank.’
‘Bad terrain,’ Comillan said. His black eyes were hooded and he tugged at the ends of his heavy moustache reflectively. “Those foothills up around Gaderion are pretty broken. The cavalry will be next to useless, unless we remount them on goats.’
1
know’ Corfe told him. ‘They’ve pushed their outposts right up to the mountains, so we’ve little room to manoeuvre unless we abandon Gaderion and fall back to the plains below. And that, gentlemen, will not happen.’
‘So we’re on the defensive, then?’ a voice asked. The senior officers turned. It was Ensign Baraz. His fellow subalterns stared at him in shock for a second and then stood wooden and insensible. One moved slightly on the balls of his feet, as though he would like to be physically disassociated from his colleague’s temerity.
‘Who in hell—?’ Comillan began angrily, but Corfe held up a hand.
‘Is that your conclusion, Ensign?’
The young man flushed. ‘Our forces have been brought up thinking of the offensive, sir. It’s how they are trained and
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