The Emperor and the Temple Ch. 02

Chapter 2

So, what is there to say about the Battle of Teshka? Perhaps it was not the greatest engagement in the history of the Empire - not if the numbers taking the field are your only measure. But rarely has victory been gained by an army that appeared so disadvantaged at the outset. Reader, It is for this reason that Teshka is still studied in military academies, even in our modern days. You have probably heard of it, have you not? No? Well, perhaps you read my words in a land thousands of miles away, or in a time thousands of years away, in a time to come or in a time long past. The Goddess works in mysterious ways.

The morning fog on that day of battle was never recorded in accounts at the time and has therefore been lost to history. But it's presence must make us wonder; was the deployment of the Emperor's army a matter of luck as much as judgement? We cannot be sure, but does not a skilled commander recognise the role of pure chance - or call it providence, if you prefer - in moulding the outcome of conflict? One who acknowledges fate, who recognises it, who seeks its influence, is in a position to benefit when it becomes manifest. Or, as a simple man once said, 'you make your own luck."

The Emperor had his artillery open fire immediately the mist lifted that morning. Well, why wait? Even as the last of his cannon was being dragged into position, unhitched from the horses that pulled it, the first were sending death to the heart of the Khan's army. They were proficient, the Emperor's gunners. While on campaign's they might suffer hardships, lack of comforts, lack of food even, but never did they lack powder, never did they lack practice.

To be under cannon fire is a terrible thing, reader. You may imagine it bad enough to have a comrade beside you struck by an arrow. To have him sink to his knees and ask you for help while he still can, for in seconds the pain will be such that he cannot talk. But imagine the whoosh of a ball through the air beside you. You feel the pressure of the wind it pushes before it. And then you turn to your comrades to see them gone. Vanished, five of them! Save for some unrecognisable flesh and gore left in the mud at your feet. In that moment, you will truly feel that your god has deserted you.

The Khan too called for his artillery to begin. And who knew that Teshka had Cannon? Not the Emperor. Perhaps, during their rebellion, they had taken the few pieces kept by the governor's garrison and copied them. But Teshka was never known for its foundries, for it's blacksmiths, for its men of science, for its craftsmen. The first balls fell short, into the soft, marshy land in the valley between the two armies. Then, with a bang that could be heard three leagues away, so they say, a large artillery piece exploded, killing many of the Khan's army around it. Those gunners who survived, deaf, maimed, terrified, could not be cajoled back to their positions by captains. And so the Khan's guns fell silent. Seeing this, the Khan had little choice but to order an advance into the swamp below. What else could he do? Hold position, and allow his men to be slowly slaughtered from afar as the hours went by? And so his center advanced and he with it, for he was no coward and knew that he must either prevail or die on this day. But on the flanks, the cavalry sent by his allies, fellow rebel states, did not move.

The Emperor ordered his front lines to the edge of the marshy terrain, but did not have them enter it. At the front, he had placed the Dragon Legion, three thousand elite warriors, recruited from the lands around Ephirum itself. They would fight to the death, and the Khan's men, soaked from the swamp, must approach them from below. And indeed, as the warriors came together, the Dragons held firm and many of the Khan's men died there on that soft grassy slope. But the Khan came to the front and fought bravely, rallying his army to the flag, and slowly their numbers began to tell, and the lines of the Dragons were diminished.

The Emperor, from his vantage point above, was gravely worried as he watched his greatest warriors become overwhelmed. Behind the Dragons stood the Foreign Legion, and then nothing! Nothing between the Khan and Ephirum itself, save three hundred leagues of land. And what of the Foreign Legion? The smallest legion, a rag-bag assortment of adventurers, escaped slaves, exiles and criminals from lands outside the Empire. Good for digging the army's ditches and emptying its latrines. But now they must fight! The Emperor's chief general leaned in to him and spoke urgently:

"My Lord, the day is lost! Look, the enemy's cavalry can easily take us from both sides. We must retreat, if we still can!"

"Strange," he replied, looking at the banners of the mounted troops behind the Khan's center. "Why do they not move? Where is Amin, leader of the Foreign Legion? I would give him orders."

"My Lord, he has long since fled. He has abandoned his Legion. He left as the mist rose this morning." The general's voice shook as he spoke.

****

Down on the field of battle, a young captain of the Foreign Legion stood waiting, watching the destruction of the Dragon Legion below him. By chance, he stood next to the cross of a crucified man, one of the envoys put to death in the valley by the Emperor that morning. Irreverently, he leaned against the upright and looked up. The dying man still lived, and moaned in his agony as the captain watched him.

"Look on the bright side my friend, you will live longer than most on this day." He said.

And then he stood sharply upright again, as the first of the Khan's warriors broke through the vanishing Dragon lines and began the climb towards his position.

"On Me!! On Me!! Centurion Bhatva! Amin has gone! On Me!! Shield Wall! Pass it on!!"

****

The Emperor, while credited with a great victory that day, could do nothing but watch as events unfolded on the hill. He saw the Foreign Legion form a wall against the enemy, using the slope to their advantage, and leaning in to stop them with their shields, interlocking them so that not even the point of a spear could pass through. Where the wall appeared to buckle, more men would add their weight. Gradually more warriors of the Khan's army threw themselves into the crush, perhaps smelling blood, thinking that victory was near. But closer to the seam between the two forces, pressed up against the shields of their enemies, arms often pinned to their sides by the crushing weight, the warriors found themselves at first unable to fight, and then, as more time passed, unable to even breath.

The Khan, seeing this, shouted "Back, Back! All, take ten paces back. That is all that I ask!!" But by now the sounds of the dying drowned out his words. He could see that, at the front, men were dead but unable to fall. And now, the enemy was reaching over the shield wall with spears to finish those that survived. The Khan himself was close to the shields, too close! He struck a man next to him, demanding that he move aside, but the poor soul could not. And then he saw an arm reaching for him, from behind the shields, and felt it grab his hair.

From his vantage point, the Emperor watched intently. "Look, the Foreign Legion holds!" he shouted in excitement. "But now the enemy's cavalry will surely come around to our undefended rear. Why do they not move? Look! You told me Amin fled, but see there, he commands his Legion!"

"My Lord, that is not Amin." replied the general.

"Who then?"

"Some lowly captain. I would not know his name."

And as they watched, a man left the scene of battle and walked towards them up the hill, a sack slung over his shoulder. Finally he stood before them, ragged and bloody. He spoke:

"My commander, Captain Artur, of the Foreign Legion, sends a gift."

The soldier tipped up the sack and the Khan's head rolled into the mud at his feet. The Emperor and his entourage stared, speechless, as he turned away and walked back towards the fighting. Eventually, the general spoke:

"My Lord, the enemy's wings move now!"

And so they did, but not to the edges of the battle, endeavoring to attack the Emperor's army from behind. Instead they rode into the valley, cutting down any of the Khans warriors who were in retreat and, eventually, forming a net around the remainder, offering them no escape.

"Scum!" shouted a voice behind the Emperor. "They waited to see which way the day would go, so they could be sure to fight on the winning side!"

"Indeed," said the Emperor. But it is an issue to be addressed on another day. Say nothing further of it. I am going to my tent. No prisoners! And this foreigner 'Artur' - Bring him to me when it is over!"