The Year of the Horsetails by R. F. Tapsell

Spring 2

For several days the Drevich army remained encamped at Mostek, growing in size as more men arrived from the remoter areas. During this time Bardiya greatly widened his circle of acquaintances; Mirosh was well-known among the younger leaders, and more influential than his actual status would have indicated. The minor commanders gathered around each other’s camp-fires instead of accepting insignificant places in Volko’s hall, and here Bardiya’s talent for story-telling, his great fund of unfamiliar experience and his mastery of military affairs combined to create a favourable impression among these less hidebound soldiers. Almost unaware of what he was doing, the exile propagated his views on strategy and tactics, with the tacit approval of Mirosh.

Little by little, he discovered that the outwardly informal Drevichi had a clear, firm division between their aristocracy of mailed horsemen and the mass of the people. Now that they had left Krotos, Mirosh and his brother no longer mixed freely with their men, and the latter showed them a respect for which there had been little evidence at home. Bardiya had noticed the beginning of these changes on the march to Mostek- he recognised the transition towards a form of military discipline, and was heartened.

It was almost the end of April when the Tugars struck; Mirosh was summoned away urgently to a conference, and he returned looking worried.

‘They have come,’ he told Bardiya. ‘Svatar was taken by surprise three days ago. They captured Sered with hardly a blow struck- luckily a few men escaped and brought the news. Several of Gromir’s villages have been plundered already. Of course, he is all for marching at once for the north.’

Yarosh, who was within earshot, interrupted eagerly. ‘And?’ he asked.

‘Volko wants more information about enemy numbers and position- scouts are being sent north. The Princes want to see you again, Bardiya; the fugitives from the villages report enormous numbers of Tugars.’

When Bardiya entered the great hall at Mostek for the third time, the babble of voices faded and the crowds made way for him. Now, he thought, with the enemy present in force, when it was too late to take sensible action, they were willing to listen to him. Volko was all smiles and courtesy, but Gromir glared at him, sensing that his own point of view would receive little support from the Saka.

Bardiya had considered what he should say, and was ready when information was asked of him.

‘There will be about forty thousand men- four Tarkhan’s divisions. Remember that every man will have at least two spare horses- your scouts must learn to distinguish between cavalry and reserve mounts. About half the Kagan’s force will be light horsemen, mounted archers; there is probably a screen of them already spreading out from Sered to prevent your men from observing the main army’s movements. The other half of the Tugars will be heavier cavalry, light and heavy lancers and the Kagan’s own guard.’ He hesitated, knowing that he must speak out now or face accusations of deceit later.

‘There will probably be some Sakas among them- my own people. I would prefer not to be in that part of your battle line which may face them.’

Gromir broke in at once. ‘Must we listen to him any longer?’ he shouted, looking round the hall. ‘He says quite openly that his people are against us.’ By now, however, Bardiya was known to many of the Drevich commanders, and there was mixed reaction to Gromir’s words. Volko spoke non-committally:

‘What do you say to that, Saka?’　

‘My own people are not free in this matter,’ he answered. ‘When the Kagan campaigns, they must provide a contingent. This is not my fault- if you doubt my loyalty I have no way of proving it, but last summer I killed one of the Tugar Tarkhans- I could never go back. What sort of traitor would I be to live amongst you for months, accept your hospitality and then betray you?’ His indignation was boiling up, largely because of the difficulty of proving his good faith.