Clan and Crown

The legion moved forward to crush Caesar's enemies.

Ganton whirled the ax around his head, for now it was work for axes and swords. There was not room enough for a charge. None was really needed. The Westmen tried to flee, only to pile upon their fellows; then they turned to face the host of Drantos, but when an unarmored man with a bronze sword faced a steelclad knight with longsword or ax, there could be only one outcome.

"They do not flee!" Morrone shouted. He hewed down another enemy.

Ganton was as blood-spattered as Morrone. His Browning was long since emptied, and he had not time to reload. Also, sometime during the charge he had lost his hatred of Westmen. Now he wanted only for the battle to end. I know what Lord Rick must feel, he thought. There can be enough killing, enough and more than enough. Yet we do what we must do. "It is the Romans," Ganton answered.

A Westman warrior broke through the leading ranks and dashed at Ganton, thrusting with a captured Drantos lance. The lance crashed against his upraised shield. The wooden shield cracked through the middle, but as it did it caught the Westman's lance. Ganton swung the ax to cut through the shaft, raised the ax and swung it again. His wrist had long ago tired, and the ax twisted as he struck so that only the flat smashed against the steel cap the warrior wore, but that was enough. The man went down, but there was another behind him, and Ganton's shield was gone. Desperately he tried to avoid the stroke- Morrone charged forward and spitted the man with his sword.

Ganton waved acknowledgment. By now they had saved each other more times than either could remember.

"The Romans?" Morrone asked.

Ganton frowned. What was this question, and why should he answer questions at all? His head pounded with the sound of horns and drums, and he was exhausted. A council chamber with too many offering advice seemed an ideal place; but he knew he must keep his head.

What of the Romans? Ah. He remembered what he had said before the Westmen had attacked him.

"They are ahead there," Ganton said. "I had hoped they would have sense enough to charge when we drove the Westmen toward them, and it seems they have. And could I but get to them-"

What would I do? I had a thought, and now it is gone, yet I think it was important. Could I get to the Romans-?

Ah. He stood in his stirrups. "Morrone!"

"Sire!"

"You command until I return. The Great Ba

"Sire!"

"I give you command of my household. Join your men with mine and let us be off, for there are yet great things we may do ill can but speak with the Romans."

"Majesty! Command me!"

He must know how many will fall if we batter our way through that mass, Ganton thought. Yet he is eager to come. That is more brave than sensible. Aye, many of my bheromen are that way. Armored from head to foot and from ear to ear. But loyal, and today I need loyal men. Today they obey me as they would Lord Rick! For today I have given them the kind of battle they pray for through long winters, the battle they have dreamed of since first they couched a lance. Yatar-aye, Yatar and Christ!- grant that their loyalty continues.

He let himself be surrounded by Guards and the knights who followed Epimenes. Then they lowered their lances and charged toward the Westmen. "For Drantos and Camithon!"

The tribune Geminius rode up to Titus Frugi and saluted. "A party of Drantos nobility approaches, Legate. They have cut their way through the Westmen."

"Aid them."

"That is done, Legate."

Frugi nodded acknowledgment. Drantos warriors were not noted for their cooperation with others, but whoever was coming had risked much.

A headquarters optio rode in at the gallop. "Centurion says it's the ba

"That's the Wanax himself!" Geminius exclaimed. "But why has he come? He has come without his royal ba

"I am aware of that," Frugi said impatiently. "Prepare to give him the proper honors and spare me your chatter. We will know soon enough why he has come."

That didn't stop the junior officers from making guesses, but at least it kept them from distracting him with them. Meanwhile, Sulpicius had reports from the cohort commanders.

Then the Drantos party rode in.

"Hail, Majesty!" Frugi called.

"Hail, Legate. We must speak, and quickly." The young Wanax gestured, and one of his squires leaped down to hold his horse as he dismounted.

Frugi noted the others in the royal party. Knights and bheromen, seasoned veterans all, carrying bloody weapons. They had come through much to get here-it was significant that veteran warriors would follow this boy king. Frugi wearily dismounted.

Ganton drew his dagger, knelt, and in the hard ground began to draw a map of the battle. It was not the best map Frugi had ever seen, but it would do. Aye, Titus Frugi thought. A map drawn by a lad who had never thought of maps as a weapon until the starmen came; it will do well enough indeed.

"We have nearly half the Westmen trapped between us," Ganton said. "As their ranks thin they will begin to escape; but we will kill enough, I think." He used his dagger to draw a circle around that combat area.

"The rest of the Westmen are here, across the river from us, encircling the Lord Mason. They face only star weapons, but so long as they do not attack the Lord Mason, they have little to fear because of the hills. There are not enough starmen to go seeking them."

Frugi nodded. "What know you of the balloon?"

"It does not rise," Ganton said. "I do not know why. But because it does not rise, the Lord Mason knows little of where the Westmen are. Yet they are here, and here, and-"

"I see," Titus Frugi said.

"The Lord Rick has taught me not to send all my forces into battle at once," Ganton said. "To hold what he calls reserves. I believe it is also the Roman way."

"Yes," Frugi said. He looked thoughtfully at the young Wanax. There were many more years behind the boy's eyes than there had been when they pla

"If you will divide your reserves into two parts, and send them here and here, then much can be accomplished," Ganton said. He drew lines on the map to indicate positions flanking the mass of Westmen facing Mason and Caradoc. "For in no more than a Roman hour the slaughter here will be finished, and the army of Drantos will be able to charge again. If we charge across the river, we will take the remaining Westmen from behind, driving them into sight of the starmen. Your reserve force will prevent them from escaping to the sides, and the star weapons will finish the task, I think."

"Unless the Westmen dislodge the starmen."

"No," Ganton said. "True, I have not spoken with the Lord Mason-but I do not need to do so. I know the Lord Mason and the Lord Caradoc. They will have a strong position. They will not be driven out by Westmen fleeing in panic."

"Umm," Frugi said. "Will your horses be able to make a second charge?"

"Aye. I have sent the-support troops-to the river for water. Our horses are well fed, thanks to Lord Rick and the Roman scribes who aid him."

He has indeed grown, Titus Frugi thought. And would be a formidable enemy to Caesar "For I have learned," Ganton said with a rush. "Neither I nor my knights, nor Lord Camithon himself, ever before dreamed how important it would be that a bushel of oats travel from a farmer's field to the belly of a war horse on the high plains. But I have learned. Aye, Legate, our horses are strong, and soon they will have water. They will charge truly."

Titus Frugi shaded his eyes and stared into the dusty valley below. The Wanax is right, he thought. An hour should see the end of that slaughter. Barbarians not fighting under one chief are not known for their readiness to come to the aid of doomed comrades. The reserve will not be needed to meet a rescue attempt. One cohort can hold the rear, and if this lad truly knows the position of the enemy we can yet have a decision this day.