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east, roaring through Vaspurakan into the Videssian westlands. But never
before in all the days of the world had the minstrels had the chance to sing
of a Makuraner army moving into battle from the east: out of Videssos and into
Vaspurakan.
His riders were entering the valley that held the town and fortress of Khliat
when the princes first struck at them. It was not an attack of horsemen
against horsemen;
that his force would have faced gladly. But the Vaspurakaners were less eager
to face them. And so, instead of couching lances and charging home on those
unlovely horses of theirs, they pushed rocks down the mountainside, touching
off an avalanche they hoped would bury their foes without their having to face
them hand to hand.
But they were a bit too eager and began shoving the boulders too soon. The
rumble and crash of stone striking stone drew the Makuraners' eyes to the
slopes above them. They reined in frantically, except for some in the van who
galloped forward, hoping to outrun the falling rocks.
Not all escaped. Men shouted and wailed in agony as they were struck; horses
with broken legs screamed. But the army, as an army, was not badly harmed.
Abivard stared grimly ahead toward the walls of Khliat as his men labored to
clear boulders from the track so that the supply wagons could go forward. The
sun sparkled off the weapons and armor of the warriors on those walls.
He turned to Kardarigan. "Take your soldiers and burn the fields and orchards
here. If the Vaspurakaners will not face us in battle like men, let them learn
the cost of cowardice as we taught it to the Videssians."
"Aye, lord," the great captain said dutifully, if without great enthusiasm.
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Before
long flames were licking through the branches of the fruit trees. Great black
clouds of smoke rose into the blue dome of the sky. Horses rode through
wheatfields, trampling down the growing grain. Then the fields were fired,
too. Come winter, Khliat would be a hungry place.
The Vaspurakaners shut up in the fortress shouted curses at Abivard's men,
some in the Makuraner tongue, some in Videssian, but most in their own
language. Abivard understood hardly a word of that, but it sounded fierce. If
the sound had anything to do with the strength of the curse, Vaspurakaner was
a fine language in which to wish harm on one's foes.
"The gloves have come off," Romezan said. "From now on we fight hard for
everything we get." He sounded delighted at the prospect.
He also proved as good a prophet as any since the Four. Khliat was not well
placed to keep invaders from moving west; that showed that it had been built
in fear of Makuran rather than Videssos. Abivard and his army were able to
skirt it, brush aside the screen of Vaspurakaner horsemen trying to block the
pass ahead, and force their way into the valley of Hanzith.
As soon as he saw the shape of the mountains along the jagged boundary between
earth and sky, Abivard was certain he'd been this way before. And yet he was
just as certain that he'd never passed through this part of Vaspurakan before
in all his life. It was puzzling.
No it would have been puzzling had he had more than a couple of heartbeats to
worry about it. No cavalry screen lay athwart the valley here; the
Vaspurakaners had assembled an army of their own to block his progress toward
the valley and fortress of Poskh. The riders were too many to be contained in
the pair of fortresses controlling the valley of Hanzith. Their tents sprawled
across what had been cropland, a few bright silk, more dun-colored canvas hard
to tell at a distance from dirt.
When the Makuraners forced their way into the valley, horns cried the alarm up
and down its length. The Vaspurakaners rushed to ready themselves for battle.
Abivard ordered his own lightly armed horsemen ahead to buy time for himself
and the rest of his heavy horse to do likewise.
If you rode everywhere in iron covering you from head to toe, if you draped
your horse in what amounted to a blanket and headpiece covered with iron
scales, and if you then tried to travel, you accomplished but one thing: You
exhausted the animals.
You saved that gear till you really needed it. This was one of those times.
Supply wagons rattled forward. Warriors crowded around them. Drivers and
servants passed their armor out to them. They helped one another fasten the
lashings and catches of their suits: chain mail sleeves and gloves,
finger-sized iron splints covering the torso, a mail skirt, and iron rings on
the legs, all bound to leather.
Abivard set his helmet back on his head after attaching to it a mail aventail [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]