Julius pointed down the slope to the young warrior.
“I stand here today because of his ancestors.” His voice suddenly shook with anger. “Damn your fears, Indira! Damn them all to hell!”
His words were like a sudden, brilliant ray of sunlight, shattering all the darkness of the future. The nightmares fled from Indira’s mind, gibbering in terror; and new visions came.
She remembered the small nation which, conquered and occupied, had still managed to save almost all its Jews from the Nazi butchers; had, through the unorganized and spontaneous actions of thousands of ordinary Danes, smuggled the Jews to safety. The blond-haired, blue-eyed people who had hurled defiance into the face of their racial brethren.
The kindness of that deed, toward a people of a different race, had come from the common pool of human decency. But the courage had come from their own history, and their own legends, and their own heritage.
They too had remembered Barbarossa. And if the Germans had chosen to remember the sword of the conqueror—had even named their brutal invasion of Russia after him—the Danes had chosen to remember the shield of the lawgiver.
The Nazi vision, she knew, had been closer to the truth of the past; but the Danish vision had been true to the future. If, in reality, kings had been unjust tyrants, yet, still, it had been within the shell of kingship that nations forged their justice. The kings were gone, long gone; but justice remained. And if the kings had been hard as iron, the justice was harder still. For justice had been long in the making, and it was not a feeble reed. It was the gleaming steel sword Excalibur, born of ancient dreams, shaped by myths and legends, forged by human struggle, and tempered in the blood of centuries.
As Indira watched the battle unfold below her, she felt as if her mind were split in two. One half observed the present carnage—attentively, coldly, objectively. The other half ranged across the breadth of human history, like a shaman taking the form of an eagle, spotting all the possibilities of the future. And, finally, leaving all fear behind, filled with the joy of flight and the glory of distant vision.
Joseph’s powerful baritone suddenly rang above the din of battle. Refocusing her attention, Indira saw that Joseph had sent Takashi’s platoon plunging into the fray. The Pilgrims had finally arrived, and were taking their place before the Utuku center. Takashi’s platoon made a sudden lunge. The Utuku drew back, clustering their shield wall. The feint had succeeded, and Takashi’s platoon was now racing across the enemy’s front, toward the east.
As planned, the warriors of the Utuku center were paralyzed. The Pilgrims surged forward, to keep them immobile. The Utuku center would be completely out of the action when Takashi fell—
Indira looked back to the southeast.
—on the rear of the Utuku right. Whose attention was completely fixed on Ludmilla’s confusing maneuvers.
Takashi was setting an even more brutal pace than Ludmilla. He and his warriors seemed to fly across the ground, as if possessed by a determination to match the exploits of Ludmilla’s platoon.
“Andrew, take a note. We must give each platoon a name, or a number. Some title by which they can be remembered, and to which their soldiers can identify. In human history, that was called the regimental tradition. It will help develop the morale of the army.”
“Yes, Indira.”
A minute later, the slaughter began. Watching the ferocity with which Takashi’s platoon ripped into the Utuku, Indira felt a moment’s fear that they had forgotten what she had told them.
But, again, the commander on the spot had simply gauged the timing better. When they broke off and raced away, not one of the human warriors was more than slightly scratched. But they left a mound of bodies behind them.
“Andrew—that note. The one concerning low-echelon tactical control.”
“Yes, Indira.”
“Carve it in stone. Better yet, cast it in bronze.”
Ludmilla’s platoon now copied Takashi’s maneuver, from the other side. Lunge in, at a speed which was almost incomprehensible to the gukuy, and butcher the front ranks. Race away before the ranks behind could overwhelm you with their numbers.