Now that reverse was to be expunged from memory by a crushing victory. Yet there would be little joy in it. Jasaray had hoped Connavar would be able to gather an army of at least a hundred thousand. Instead reports suggested less than fifty thousand opposed him.
What a waste of time and energy, thought Jasaray, rising from his bed and pouring himself a goblet of water. He should have sent Barus to subdue the tribes. And he would have done just that – save for the unrelenting and increasing boredom he had suffered since becoming emperor. He could have blessed Nalademus for his treachery, which, at least, had provided a spark of excitement. The truth remained that the only real pleasure still to be had was on the battlefield, and Stone was running out of worthwhile enemies. Jasaray could have invaded the Rigante many times over the years. But he had reserved Connavar as a special treat, the last great opponent in an increasingly dull world.
Jasaray had followed his career with interest, remembering the young Keltoi who had served under him in the battles against the Perdii. A fine young man, brave and intelligent, and yet with the mental strength to curb the wild, reckless excesses of his Keltoi nature. Today’s battle – though its outcome was certain – would not be an easy one. And there would be no glory in it. Back in Stone they would hear of his victory and shrug. ‘Ah well,’ they would say, ‘it was only a few tribesmen.’
The tent flap opened and one of his guards looked inside. Seeing the emperor awake he called out, ‘The scouts are back, lord.’
‘Send them in.’
Two Cenii scouts entered the tent, accompanied by the guards, who watched them warily. Both the Keltoi were rough-looking men, sour-faced and surly. ‘Well?’ asked Jasaray.
‘The Rigante are forming with their backs to the river,’ said the first. ‘They are manning a line of hills around a mile north of here.’
‘How many?’
The scout spread his arms. ‘A little more than you have here. I can’t count that high.’
The general Heltian ducked under the tent flap. Jasaray dismissed the scouts and told Heltian to have horses saddled.
Minutes later, dressed in a simple tunic and a hooded woollen coat, Jasaray, with Heltian and three junior officers, rode from the night fortress. Jasaray did not take a weapon. There were two reasons for this, the first being that having never mastered the sword he would be useless in any physical encounter. The second reason, however, was far more important. The troops would watch their emperor riding out unarmed to view the enemy and say, ‘There goes the Scholar, afraid of no man.’ They would chuckle, and much of the pre-battle tension would ease away.
Jasaray and his officers rode out onto the open land to the north until they spied the enemy forces ranged against them. Jasaray reined in. His eyes were not as sharp as once they were, but vanity stopped him from admitting it. He turned to one of the junior officers. ‘Maro, describe their formation.’
The young man gazed out over the distant ranks of tribesmen. ‘They have massed in the centre, possibly some fifteen thousand men. I can see heavy infantry to the left and right of them, but no cavalry or archers as yet.’
‘What does the formation suggest?’ asked the emperor.
‘I . . . do not know, lord,’ admitted the young man.
‘What about you?’ Jasaray asked a second officer.
‘They expect us to attack the centre and have reinforced it?’ he suggested, without confidence.
As the five riders studied the enemy a long column of heavily armoured riders appeared a half mile to the right, moving slowly along the hilltops. ‘That will be Fiallach and his Iron Wolves,’ said Jasaray. ‘They will bear watching. Can anyone see Connavar?’
‘I see the King’s Banner,’ said Maro, pointing to the centre of the enemy. Fluttering on the breeze was a pale blue cloth with a white motif.
‘What are they doing now?’ asked Jasaray, squinting towards the enemy lines.
‘They are passing out food, lord,’ said Maro.
‘A wise general knows that men fight better on a full belly,’ said the emperor. ‘Well, gentlemen, I think we have seen enough.’ Turning his mount awkwardly he heeled it into a canter and rode back to the earth fortress.