But that was one of the principal reasons the Confederacy employed auxiliary troops. Cavalry, mostly, the bulk of them from the Southron tribes themselves. Vanbert military tradition didn’t consider cavalry of much use in an actual battle. Confederate generals used their cavalry for scouting, skirmishing—and to pursue and butcher a routed foe. Which task their auxiliaries handled splendidly, and the fact that they would be butchering other Southron barbarians wouldn’t bother them in the least.
Helga started to make some sour comment about savages and their innate disloyalty, but her own innate honesty kept the words from being spoken. If push came to shove after all, Jessep and his own men were quite prepared to kill other Confederates in this battle.
She eyed him sidelong, for a moment. Then, abruptly: “Does it bother you? Being on this side, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Can’t say it pleases me any. But . . . ‘bothers’ me? No, lass.”
He turned away from the sight of the coming army and faced her squarely. Jessep’s face seemed blockier than usual.
“There isn’t much of ‘loyalty’ left, in a man who’s served twenty-five years in the regiments. Except, maybe, loyalty to such men as led you well, in battle, and saw to your retirement if you survived. Like your father, first and foremost.”
Yunkers waved his hand toward the cluster of wagons at the very center of the laager, where Adrian and Prelotta had set up the compound which served as their field headquarters. From the center of it rose a twenty-foot-tall watchtower, hastily but solidly built from lashed-together logs. “I don’t work for your boyfriend, girl, or his half-tame savages. I work for your father. Same’s true for my boys. Verice Demansk sent us down here, and told us to do whatever you wanted. For them, as me, that’s good enough.”
He glanced back at Tomsien’s huge force, which was now beginning its march across the valley. “Little the Confederacy ever did for me and mine, when all is said and done.”
Helga couldn’t keep from smiling. “Whatever I wanted, is it? Then why—”
Jessep snorted. “He was quite precise on that matter, girl, however loose he may have been otherwise. ‘Just make sure you keep the hoyden out of any fighting herself.’ Speaking of which—”
He looked down into the laager. Helga’s personal bodyguard Lortz was standing not far away, staring up at Jessep and his charge perched on the wagon.
“Speaking of which, Lortz is looking none too happy. They’ll be within javelin range before much longer, and the field artillery will start up even sooner. It’s time you got down from here, girl, and went back to your Adrian. And stay in the center compound, dammit.”
“As if I’ll have much choice,” she grumbled. “You and the hundred will be there right alongside me. The biggest—and certainly the grumpiest—governess I ever had.”
But it was just a token protest. Helga took one last look at the endless files and neat formations of the coming Confederacy, and discovered that she really wasn’t at all keen to meet them personally. Those locked shields looked impenetrable, and the assegais, sharp. She scrambled off the wagon in quite a sprightly manner, truth be told.
* * *
Once on the ground, though, she took the time to peek into the interior of the wagon through one of the gunports on the inner side. She could see into it quite easily, since the gunport was being unused. The Reedbottom warriors within the wagon were all clustered on the other side, facing the enemy.
She could see all fourteen of them. Two were at each of the five gunports, one of them with an arquebus already poking through and his partner with two more ready. Toward Helga’s side of the wagon, the remaining four men of the crew had still more guns loaded and were ready to begin cleaning and reloading the used ones.
It was an impressive bit of organization in its own right, Helga had to admit. The more so since she knew this same scene would be repeated over and again, identically, in every one of the four hundred or so wagons which formed the perimeter of the laager. Before she’d come down here, she wouldn’t have thought Southron barbarians could even count as high as fourteen—much less maintain that same number, repeatedly, as well as Vanberts maintained their own allotted forces.