Westrons Pt. 28

- “Do you really need to know, Isa?”

- “Is there a pressing reason why I shouldn’t?”

She had me there.

Kanitz suspected a great deal. She hadn’t used it against me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine Isa turning on me.

- “The Halygon didn’t sail on the water.” I said, softly.

It took her a few moments to figure out.

- “An airship?” she muttered. She thought it over for a few moments.

“That still doesn’t make sense.”

I gave her time. I didn’t know if it would help, but I looked up at the sky. She grasped my intention right away.

“You came from one of the moons?”

Close enough. I wasn’t going to make it any it any more difficult than I had to.

- “Isa - I don’t want to lie to you. But some things are difficult to explain.”

- “The moons?”

- “Yes.”

- “But ... but - if you could do that ... you could conquer the whole continent.” She was struggling to come to terms with the enormity of what I’d just admitted.

- “We couldn’t.” I said. “There are other stars.”

Isa looked up, at the night sky. There were hundreds of stars visible. Thousands.

- “Are they all moons? Like ours?”

- “Something like that.” She let me get away with that inaccuracy, and didn’t pursue it.

- “Some of them are your enemies?”

That was incredibly perceptive. “Yes.” I said.

- “Pylos is both of the moons?” she said. “Or even more than that?”

I could only nod. She was too intelligent, too sharp.

- “It’s ... complicated.” I said.

She lay back again, and studied the night sky.

- “Amazing.”

- “Isa -” I began.

- “Don’t worry, Cook. I wouldn’t tell anyone. Who could I tell? No one would believe me.” She sat up, suddenly.

“Thank you. For explaining it to me. For telling me the truth. Most of it, anyway.”

Then she lay back, and resumed her study of the stars.

***

Months passed.

Every morning, I awoke to find that Isa was still with me - still female. We were approaching the 2nd anniversary of her Change.

She treated every day like a minor miracle. She constantly looked for new ways to please and delight me. Isa found foods that we would both enjoy, and then discussed light infantry tactics with me.

She made love to me every night - often more than once. But she also began to seize moments during the day, surprising me at odd , but appropriate moments.

We went back to the capital together. The Belere was not quite so tense. Talley and Tisucha had come to terms with Senau, it seemed.

Isa ceded me to Esyle for several days. The Lady of Belere appreciated it.

- “We’ve talked. Tallia and I.” said Esyle, as we cuddled together, after making love. “She admitted ... she told me about her ... jealousy.”

- “She told me, too.” I said.

- “I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think she was jealous at all. Sharing you was her idea. And we used to talk about Aneli, and Kanitz. Tudino, and Koroba, too.”

- “How did you feel about it, Esyle?”

She shook her head. “I could imagine a perfect world, where you would be mine, and mine only. But it’s imaginary. That’s the point. You and Tallia went to war, and Tudino was there, and Avette ...”

“I know that you love me, Cook. And I’m grateful for the moments we share. I know that I’m not glamourous, or beautiful ...”

- “Glamour is overrated. Beauty you have - in abundance.”

- “I don’t think so. But you keep coming back to me - so there must be something.”

- “There certainly is.”

***

Kanitz summoned me to the Palace. Alone. She specifically asked me not to bring Isa, this time.

The Chancellor looked a bit tired, as if she’d been up all night. But she wasted no time on polite greetings.

- “Come in, Master Lebuc.” she said.

And there he was. Lebuc was a little leaner, as if he’d been travelling quite a bit on short rations. He looked a little older, too - or just more careworn.

- “Hello, General Cook.”

- “The Sendrin sent us news.” said Kanitz. “From Crolia.”

- “The civil war will end very soon - if it has not already ended.” said Lebuc. “Prince Ellem Anry will be the victor.”

- “Ellem Anry?” The heir to the throne, whose capture at Limset had ended the last war. I couldn’t imagine him winning a food fight in a cafeteria.

- “He was in command of the southern army, opposite General Brune. When his father was assassinated, he marched home. His brother had managed to win the support of the Reserve Army, and several powerful nobles as well.”

“An ambitious Colonel named Ganning rallied elements of the army you defeated at Rassbrook. He then moved north, and collected more troops from the force that lost at Kesmansha.”

- “To make his own bid for power?”

- “Goodness, no. He had no claim to the throne. None of the nobles would have supported him. But he was superbly placed to play Kingmaker. Neither of the Princes could afford to offend him, as he negotiated with both sides.”

“Ellem Anry met Ganning’s conditions: promotion to General, a title, and co-command of the army.”

- “So that he could retain control of his own troops.” said Kanitz.

- “When their agreement became known, Ellem Anry’s eventual victory seemed assured. His brother was murdered by two of his own officers.”

- “So he now controls the Reserve army as well?” I asked.

- “Perhaps.” said Lebuc. “Last we heard, Prince Ellem Anry was negotiating with the Colonels of the Reserve Army.”

- “With the murderers?”

- “Oh, no. They were put to death by the Colonels who are now in control.”

Lovely. Crolian politics seemed to be simpler - and more ruthless - than the Westron style. “Assuming that he does get their support,” I asked, “how many men would he have?”

- “Fifty to sixty thousand.” said Lebuc.

“He has no money to pay the soldiers, though. Even if he confiscates the lands of the nobles who opposed him, it will take time to turn that into cash. That won’t solve his immediate problems.”

“He has a large army that he can’t feed.”

- “He can’t?”

- “The civil war was ... very hard on the people. Each army felt itself entitled to requisition livestock in the areas they controlled. When local cooperation was lacking, the soldiers simply took what they wanted.”

“There is a significant shortage of heavy oxen for Ellem Anry.”

Interesting. Without a sufficient number of draft animals, the Crolians would find it difficult to haul their cannon, their ammunition, supplies of every kind.

- “Please tell Cook how bad the food shortage is.” said Kanitz.

Lebuc looked me in the eye - something he rarely did.

- “The Reserve Army was so low on food, that they began to eat their own oxen. Then they ate the Wole drivers as well.”

***

I expressed my condolences to Lebuc. What else could I do?

Kanitz asked him to excuse us, promising to speak with him again when I was done. Once the little Wole was gone, Kanitz sat down.

- “Well, now we know why the Woles were ready to speak to us again.” she said.

- “That’s ... a bit harsh - don’t you think?”

- “It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel sorry for them, Cook. But they cut off the supply of intelligence for over a year. I didn’t know a thing about Ganning, or his deal with Ellem Anry, until the day before yesterday.”

“Suddenly the Woles are prepared to share information with us again.”

She was right, of course. Still ...

As a General, I had sent soldiers to their deaths. Not as sacrificial lambs - though that might still happen - but knowing that many of them would be killed or maimed.

But the Chancellor’s ruthlessness was an order of magnitude greater than mine.

I was shaken out of my reverie when Princess Maia Simonia - Themis - joined us. She too looked a little tired.

- “You heard Lebuc’s tale?” she asked me.

- “I did.”

- “What do you think it means? For us?”

- “He’ll attack.” I said.

- “You think so?”

I nodded. “He has an army he can’t pay. He can’t feed them, either. They’ve been stripping their own lands bare. Even if he doesn’t realize it himself, someone’s sure to point out to him that they can find food here - and simply take it.”

- “Will his army march, though?” asked Kanitz. “Will they follow him?”

- “They have to. For food. For the promise of being paid, at some point in the future.”

“There will also be many officers eager to prove their loyalty - especially those in the former Reserve Army. They’ll be clamouring to be led West.”

- “They’re coming, then.” said Themis, with a note of resignation in her voice.

- “I think so. They’ll be slow - lack of transport for the guns and ammunition will slow them down. They’ll also have to forage for food as they march.”

“But I think Ellem Anry knows that if they invade in the same old way, that we’ll beat them in the same old way. They have fewer troops than they did at the outset of the war. Poorer quality, too - many of their best were lost at Kesmansha and Rassbrook.”

“Their supply situation is worse, as well. I don’t see how they can win, unless they do something different.”

- “You may be right.” said Kanitz. “I don’t see how Ellem Anry can trust any of his Generals with an independent command. If one of them was to win a victory, while he himself was defeated ...”

Every so often, the fog lifts, and you can see the true shape of things. Sometimes, if you recognize what you’re looking at, it’s even possible to accurately predict exactly what will happen ...

- “A single army.” I breathed.

- “Pardon?”

- “At the beginning of the war - do you remember what the Woles told us? That the Crolian Southern Army was only a diversion? Untrained troops, fewer guns ...”

- “Yes.” said Kanitz. “We didn’t worry about having Brune in command there, because we didn’t think she’d have to fight.”

- “Exactly. And who commanded the Crolian Southern Army?”

- “Prince Ellem Anry.” said Themis.

- “Which means that he’s intimately familiar with the strategy of a diversionary force.”

- “You think they’ll attack on only two fronts?”

- “No. That’s what they did last time - and it failed. With 50-60,000 troops, and with their supply issues, he can only create two striking forces, roughly the same size as the armies that were beaten at Kesmansha and Rassbrook.”

“He can’t afford to lose again. Plus, there was something Lebuc said that stuck in my mind: he said that Ganning wanted a promotion, a title ... and co-command of the army.”

- “You think they’ll march together?”

- “Together, or on parallel roads - close enough to support each other. Look at it from their perspective, Kanitz: if we oppose them, they’ll crush us.”

“I led less than 14,000 at Kesmansha. Ellem Anry could have 30,000. Or even 35 to 40,000. Tactical innovations wouldn’t save us then.”

- “Forty thousand?”

- “It’s possible. For political reasons, he can’t afford to give Ganning an independent command - lest the subordinate emerge from the war more popular than the Prince.”

“He’s also seen us defeat them three times -”

- “He’s seen you defeat them three times.”

- “That’s the same thing.” I said. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that Ellem Anry would concentrate his forces into one overwhelming army.

- “What could we do against so many?” asked Themis.

- “Even worse,” said Kanitz, “what do we do if you’re wrong?”

***

We agreed to re-convene the next day: Kanitz, Themis and I. After a mostly sleepless night, I was still convinced that Ellem Anry intended to advance on a single front, with a massive combined army.

Isa understood immediately that I wasn’t prepared to discuss it. She’d been my sounding board a hundred times, but this wasn’t one of those occasions. Isa let me know that she was there, and then granted me space.

In the middle of the night - the early hours of the morning, actually - Esyle brought me a small pot of tea. It was such a selfless, loving gesture. I was touched.

- “I had a feeling that you might be up all night.” she said.

- “That’s very thoughtful of you, Esyle. Will you have some with me?”

- “I don’t want to disturb your work.” She gestured at a set of her father’s maps, spread out on my desk, with candles holding down the corners.

- “I’m pretty much finished.” I said. “And I suddenly have a tremendous urge to make love with you, if you would like to.”

She smiled. “I may never quite get used to living with you, Cook.” she said. “But that may not be such a bad thing.”

***

“We create a strong Central Army, with the New Model Army at its core.” I said. “That way, we can move a significant number of regiments at speed, if we have to.”

- “With you in command, of course.” said Kanitz.

- “Yes.” False modesty was a waste of time, at this point. The Westrons didn’t have a General better than me waiting in the wings.

- “Go on.”

- “If I’m wrong, and they’re advancing on two fronts, we can shift troops from the central front more quickly than from the north or south. Or, we can adopt ... delaying tactics on one front, while seeking decisive with the central force.”

- “What do you expect to happen, Cook?” asked Themis. “Perhaps you should tell us that, before we get caught up in all of these worst-case scenarios.”

- “I’m anticipating weak Crolian forces in the north and south - purely diversions. The main effort will come in the centre. They won’t attack in the south, because even with 35,000 men, he can’t capture the fortress of Tonol quickly enough. Nor can they bypass it, leaving the garrison in their rear.”

“They’ll be moving slowly, because they’re Crolian, they’re short of oxen, and because they’ll be searching for food every day. That’s one of our advantages.”

- “What if they move without their artillery, as you did?”

- “That’s not something you can do without training. An ox can’t become a zhela overnight.” The zhela was a Westron dog, lean and swift, like a greyhound. Both Westrons and Crolians hunted them - and ate them.

Themis smiled, but Kanitz didn’t seem to appreciate my newly-coined phrase.

- “So we gather an extra-large army, to confront their extra-large army, and risk everything in a pitched battle.” She shook her head, slowly. “I have confidence in you, Cook, but ...”

- “We have options, Chancellor.” I said.

- “Such as?”

- “Deny them a victory. Avoid battle until they have to retreat.”

“We can stage a fighting withdrawal. Wear them down. Prevent their access to supplies.”

I went on to explain a Scorched Earth strategy. It wasn’t something the Westrons had ever had to consider. Just like on 18th-century Earth, armies were small, and carried their own supplies. Even if you created a desert around them, they would be largely unaffected.

Both Kanitz and Themis were horrified as I described moving the livestock, making the people homeless, and burning their crops - the grains and grasses which could feed oxen.

- “That would entail great suffering for the people.” said Themis.

- “Yes.” I agreed. “It’s also impossible to predict which land, and just how much land would have to be burned. May I have paper and a pen?”

I drew a large X. “The Crolian army.” I said. Then I scratched out a rectangle just ahead of the X. “Imagine an area some 30 leagues by 20 leagues wide.”

- “Why only 20 leagues wide?”

- “Well, that’s assuming that they march directly west. If they veered to, say - West Northwest ...” I scratched out another area.

“Of course, they could go West Southwest.” I scratched out another rectangle.

- “I see it.” said Kanitz, glumly.

- “Worse yet, they could march west for 10 leagues, and then turn North Northwest -”

- “You’ve made your point, Cook.” she said.

- “Something else occurred to me, last night. If we create a larger army, or if we split into smaller forces, to scorch the earth ahead of the Crolians, we’ll have one of the same problems they will: command control.”

Themis nodded. But Kanitz didn’t understand right away.

- “Explain that - please.”

- “It’s the nature of our army - and theirs.” I said. “Every Colonel, regardless of whether they own their regiments or not - believe that they’re entitled to be consulted before they commit their most prized possession to battle.”

Inhabers owned their regiments, and were naturally protective of their right to control it. And if they were influential, or well-connected at Court, they could be even more stubborn.

I’d been lucky, so far: the Colonels who served with me were there because they wanted to be. They were more prepared to accept my tactical innovations, and my orders.

“Many senior officers don’t jump to obey orders.” I continued. “Some Colonels have to be persuaded, cajoled, or bribed into co-operating. In person. Some have to be coddled, some cuddled. But every single one of them believes that they have the right to approach the Commander in Chief at any hour of the day or night.”

“Avette disobeyed Berandot at Limset. And she was exonerated.”

- “She marched to your aid!”

- “She did it for the right reason. But some Colonel in the future is going to emulate her - for the wrong reason.”

Many was the time I’d wished that I could have simply issued orders, and have them obeyed without question. I began to understand the attraction of being an absolute monarch like Frederick the Great, or a dictator like Napoleon.

I’d also dreamed of creating Army Corps, as Napoleon had. A self-contained force, with all three arms: infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Well, two arms, here. One of Bonaparte’s Corps was expected to be able to give battle - against superior forces - for a single day. After that, other Corps would arrive, as reinforcements, or to outflank and envelop the enemy.

Langoret could easily lead 3 or 4 regiments, in addition to her own. Tudino already had. Votuda could do it, even though she was unlikely to be popular. Neslann was another possibility.

- “Part of the problem is a simple matter of communications.” I said. “The General has to be able to send new orders to the Colonels of each regiment.”

Westrons simply had no idea how cumbersome and slow their communications were.

For one, every single Colonel expected detailed orders, delivered to them personally.

Fourteen regiments in the New Model Army meant eleven written messages. Thank goodness for the Penchens: a single communiqué to Leydz would activate four regiments.

Tallia was a miracle-worker. She could translate what I wanted to say into a brief, perfectly clear note, with due deference to the egos of the Colonels to whom these orders were addressed.

Oral instructions were quicker, of course. But you had to count on the messenger remembering them exactly - and the recipient understanding them perfectly.

There was also the time factor. The Westrons had no horses. Messengers weren’t sprinters; they had to be cross-country runners. They weren’t running on a flat track, indoors, either.

2-3 leagues, uphill and down, or through the woods, could take twenty minutes or more. By the time another messenger returned, bearing a reply, as much as an hour might have passed. By that time, the original instructions might be obsolete.

If we intended to confront the Crolians on a wide front - say, ten leagues - we would have to get used to acting independently. Without horses, we might be out of touch with each other for a day - or days.

- “Then there’s the question of mobility.” I said.

The New Model Army could march any other force into the ground. We’d proved it after Kesmansha, in the march to Rassbrook.

But to create a larger army meant expanding the New Model. There would be no time to train the new regiments, to get the new Colonels to ‘buy in’ to our tactics, or our methods. Mobility would no longer be an advantage that we could rely on.