Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [214]
Once that was done, Paskal approached us with his idea. “Send me ahead to scout,” he suggested. “General Liberio sent men to the cities nearest Amílcar, to Badalon and Coloma and Tibado, begging them to rise up against Carthage. If any of them got through, I can tell them the Euskerri are coming. Perhaps it will convince them.”
It was an excellent idea, albeit a dangerous one. And so Paskal was dispatched, brimming with enthusiasm. I watched him go, shaking my head and praying he’d find his way safely.
Two days later we departed Roncal.
Sidonie and I bade farewell to Bixenta, who had taken such good care of us. She embraced us both and uttered a blessing in the Eus-kerri tongue. And then we saddled our mounts and rode south with the others.
There was no fanfare, no great proclamation. The Euskerri had gotten all of that out of the way during their debate. The decision to go to war had been made, so to war they went.
There was also precious little in the way of a plan. Euskerri from all over the mountains were to make their way to the foothills above Amíl-car. Mayhap there would be six or seven thousand of them. Janpier was convinced of it. If it was true, we would have numbers to equal Astegal’s, as there were a good four thousand Aragonian soldiers in Amílcar itself, and thousands more dispersed across the country, subject to the terms of Roderico’s surrender.
But even so, we had no way of mounting a coordinated attack; and the Euskerri’s idea of warfare was to swarm their enemy from a position of strength. We wouldn’t have that on the plains surrounding Amílcar. What we would have was a ragtag army of thousands with no form of organized leadership. As more and more Euskerri trickled toward the south, it became increasingly obvious that we would be mismatched on open ground.
“If we simply fall on Astegal’s forces from behind, I’m afraid it will be a slaughter,” I said to Sidonie as we rode. “He might have gotten lax about drilling in New Carthage, but they’re disciplined enough to hold formation.”
“I know.” She frowned in thought. “I get the sense the Euskerri are simply hoping to lure them into the hills and ambush them. I’m not sure Astegal’s going to be so easily lured.”
“Any suggestions?” I asked. “You know him better than anyone, and it seems you’ve got as good a head for battle as anyone here.”
Sidonie gave me a wry look. “Do you imagine the Euskerri would actually listen to me?”
“No.” I smiled. “But they might listen to me.”
“I’ll think on it,” she said.
Our journey back to Amílcar took a day longer than our flight from it. Euskerri from east of Roncal had already reached our destination and made camp in a deep basin of a valley some half a league from the city. I was glad to see that at least there were sentries posted atop every hill. Still, it made me feel anxious and exposed, being so close to Carthage’s army and so unprepared to engage it.
Roncal’s company made camp in the farthest northern end of the valley. I spoke to Gaskon, the Aragonian-speaking member of Sidonie’s guard I reckoned the most sensible, and made it clear to him that if there was any sort of attack, they were to flee without hesitating. He understood and agreed.
And then we spent several agonizing days waiting.
It was a tense and strangely lonely time. Little by little, in dribs and drabs of a hundred men here, two hundred men there, Euskerri arrived. Janpier was right, their numbers did swell into the thousands. And none of them shared our language or our cause. They were here to fight Carthage,