The booming continued, and one of the trunks split. Then a second. Minutes later the gates parted, a bronze-headed battering ram hammering through them. Hundreds of red-smeared warriors pushed aside the ruined gates and ran screaming into the compound. A drum sounded behind the Stone warriors and they began to march forward. The Perdii hurled themselves on the advancing phalanx, and the cruel, stabbing swords of the front line. Hundreds died and the Stone soldiers advanced over the bodies. Men in the second and third lines blooded their swords on the fallen, thrusting their blades into wounded Perdii as they moved over them.
The tribesmen lacked nothing in courage and the battle continued for almost an hour before the Stone line reached the ruined gates. At that point a trumpet sounded from the Perdii lines and the warriors faded back into the darkness.
Workmen repaired the gates swiftly, while soldiers carried dead tribesmen outside the camp, creating a mound of bodies. More than two thousand Perdii had died in the battle, for just over sixty Stone soldiers killed and one hundred and four sporting cuts that needed stitching.
As dawn was breaking Conn walked to the ramparts and looked down upon the three huge mounds of Perdii dead. Stone soldiers who had not taken part in the battle had dug long pits and carpeted them with oil-soaked wood. The bodies had been hauled out and hurled into them, along with more brushwood.
As the dawn sun rose higher, soldiers threw torches of oil-soaked straw onto the mounds. Flames flickered up, then caught, and Conn watched as tongues of fire licked at the corpses. Soon the flames were roaring out above the mounds, and the sweet smell of cooking flesh drifted over the camp.
My first battle, thought Conn, and I did not draw my sword in anger. The fighting had not reached the fourth rank.
Valanus joined him on the ramparts. The officer had a cut on his cheek, that had been expertly stitched. ‘What happened to you?’ asked Valanus. ‘I thought to see you fighting alongside me on the north wall.’
‘I was with the general. How did he know an attack was coming? Is he a mystic?’
‘He does have a feel for these things. On the other hand it is not the first time he has called the men out to stand in rank during the night. He often does it to keep them sharp. Perhaps he was just lucky. I once put it to him that he had more than his share of good fortune. You know what he said? “The more carefully I plan the luckier I get.” That’s the nearest I’ve heard to him making a joke. So, what did he want you for?’
‘I still don’t know. He wanted to talk about Banouin. It seems he was once a general.’
Valanus gave a soft whistle. ‘So, he was that Banouin. I didn’t realize. Banouin is not an uncommon name in Stone. But your man was the Ghost General. He led a cavalry force, and would always appear where least expected by the enemy. When the first civil war ended he retired. It surprised a lot of people. He was expected to enter politics.’
‘Jasaray said that Banouin was both his teacher and his student,’ said Conn. ‘Do you know what that means?’
‘Aye, I do. When the Scholar was first commissioned he knew nothing of military matters, but had a great understanding of mathematics and the logistics of supply. Banouin was sent to teach him basic military etiquette, if you like, chains of command and so on. As you can see, Jasaray was a fast learner.’
The wind changed, the morning breeze blowing over the blazing mounds and sending dark smoke into the compound. ‘Two thousand dead, and they achieved nothing,’ said Conn. ‘What a waste of life.’
‘They never learn, these tribesmen,’ said Valanus. ‘They attack in vast numbers, expecting to overwhelm us. It is the only way they know how to fight. There is no real organization, no officers, no clearly defined command structure. Their battle plans are always the same: there is the enemy, go charge them and see what happens. As you say, a waste of life.’