"That's all of them?" Kalvan asked. He'd counted no more than a thousand men in the line of bedraggled and mud-smeared Harphaxi prisoners standing in the torchlight.
"All the ones we fished out, Your Majesty," the mercenary captain said. "I think the Mobile Force picked up more somewhere over there." A callused hand pointed off into the darkness. "There's a lot more out in the swamp, but Regwarn's Caverns have them now." Which was a polite way of saying that even Great King Kalvan would be wasting his breath if he ordered the mercenaries any farther into the swamp.
Kalvan wasn't going to order anything of the kind; it must be nearly midnight, and from the way he felt himself, he was surprised that anyone in the Army of Hos-Hostigos was still on his feet or even awake. The heavy fighting had ended about three o'clock in the afternoon, except against the Zarthani Knights in the north; the mopping-up and pursuit had gone on until well after dark.
At least it had gone on in the south, against the left flank of the Harphaxi. In the north, the Zarthani Knights and Temple Guardsmen, surrounded and out-manned, had nearly died to the last man, but in the process they'd fought Harmakros and Phrames to a standstill. Most of the Harphaxi right who hadn't been bagged already had escaped through the Middle Gap, at least five thousand men. Not a single gun, though, and Harmakros' messenger reported that the Gap was choked with abandoned wagons as well as discarded weapons and armor. It was a rabble, not an army that was fleeing toward Harphax City from the Heights.
The one part of the Harphaxi left that got away did so in better order. Four or five thousand of the rearguard had been sighted on the Great Harph Road shortly after Phrames rode north. Before Kalvan could deploy to receive them, he'd had to finish the slaughter at Ryklos Farm. The only survivors of that engagement were a band of mercenaries led by a big man on a white charger who appeared to enjoy a charmed life.
By the time the massacre was complete, the Harphaxi rearguard had been warned of the danger. They'd turned and departed with more haste than dignity, although they didn't disintegrate into a rabble, thanks to a Temple Band of Styphon's Own Guard who stood fast and died to a man. By the time they'd finished dying, Kalvan's cavalry were too blown for rapid pursuit, his infantry nearly out of ammunition and there were too many miscellaneous groups of fugitives roaming about who needed rounding up.
With no commanders, half their number killed or taken prisoner, the Harphaxi Army was an army in name only.
One of the largest bands of Harphaxi survivors had decided that the dry weather of the past week had made it safe to try wading the swamp on either side of Hogwallow Creek. The ones who'd lived to learn they were wrong were now being fished out by the Hostigi and packed off to an improvised POW compound where Kalvan had captured the four big bombards.
Many of the mercenaries were oath-bound now and under light guard. He'd give them an opportunity to take Hostigi colors after things settled down. He needed to talk with Uncle Wolf Tharses to learn whether or not they would be allowed under here-and-now union rules to fight against the Styphoni on their way from Hos-Ktemnos. The Harphaxi mercenaries weren't directly under Styphon's House's authority since Kaiphranos and his nobles were paying their salary; however, the money was indirectly coming from the Temple. He just wasn't sure how Galzar's stewards would see it.
He looked around for someone to send for the Uncle Wolf and spotted Phrames. He hated to send a General to do a Lieutenant's job, but-with Nicomoth on his way to Tarr-Hostigos with a dispatch to Rylla chronicling their victory over the Harphaxi-the Count was his acting aide-de-camp. He gave Phrames his order and in less than a few minutes he returned with Uncle Wolf Tharses, whose mail shirt and surcoat were so blood splattered he feared the priest was wounded.
"I'm fine, Sire. I was tending to the wounded; no end to them this day. A great victory for Hostigos and a bad defeat for the vile priesthood of Styphon's House." The highpriest spat a wad of tobacco on the ground.
Usually, Tharses was usually more circumspect when describing the priestly competition, so Kalvan wondered what had gotten his goat. "What's bothering you?"
"Those damn-blasted Red Hand! They murdered a company of Hostigi prisoners when they realized their retreat was cut off. Styphoni dogs! And I'm oath-bound to treat all prisoners-even those devil-spawned heathen! While I was tending to one Guardsman, the blackguard tried to stab me with his poniard! He called me an impious worshipper of a false god-Galzar no less! A curse on Styphon and all his vile minions!"
Tharses was all but foaming at the mouth. Kalvan could see religious war that he feared reaching its roots into fertile soil.
"What we just fought was but the child of the army that's on its way from Hos-Ktemnos, Highpriest Tharses. I have a question for you regarding the Law of Galzar."
The Uncle Wolf visibly calmed himself down. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"We have several thousand Harphaxi mercenary prisoners who have surrendered and taken oaths not to fight against Hostigos. While according to the Law we are not allowed to use them to guard the Harphaxi regulars, I want to know if we can we swear them into Our service against the Styphoni army that now calls itself the Holy Host."
Tharses turned beet red. "Unholy Host would be a better name. Sire, Galzar's Law states that sworn mercenaries, once captured, may not actively take arms against their former employer, in this case Great King Kaiphranos of Hos-Harphax or his vassals. However, once captured the mercenaries are free to swear oaths to their captives should this be done willingly and overseen by Galzar's priests-as has been done this day. The questions were must ask now are these: Is the army coming from Hos-Ktemnos, that calls itself the Holy Host, from Hos-Harphax? Or in any manner part of the Harphaxi Royal Army? Or under command of the Harphaxi Royal Army? Or being fought by Harphaxi Royal soldiers? Or being mustered out or paid for by the Great King of Hos-Harphax or his Princes? Are any of these questions true?"
"Not in any way that I can discern, Highpriest Tharses."
Tharses smiled, a grim tight-lipped smile. "Nor I, Your Majesty. Therefore, it is my Judgment, as Highpriest of Galzar of all Hos-Hostigos and the army of Hos-Hostigos, that the former Harphaxi mercenaries are not under the command of the Holy Host and are free to fight under Hostigi colors-Galzar's Judgment."
Phrames looked like someone who'd just seen a rabbit pulled out of a hat for the first time.
Kalvan returned the Uncle Wolf's smile with one of his own. "Thank you for your judgment, Highpriest Tharses. I will thank Galzar at the next shrine. You may return to your duties."
With that pronouncement from Tharses, the Army of the Harph has just replaced most of its casualties, and then some. Now, the next crisis: what to do with the thousands of regular Harphaxi prisoners?
He decided to carry out his original plan of releasing most of the disarmed Harphaxi prisoners tomorrow, after the Hostigi had brought up supplies, tended their wounded and policed up the battlefield. Right now it was littered with discarded weapons, which might tempt a disarmed Harphaxi soldier to rearm himself and make trouble-if not for the Hostigi at least for his own people. Phrames was right; there was no point in making the lot of the losing civilians any more miserable than it was already.
Kalvan sat on his horse as his soldiers bound their prisoners. Even allowing for their bedraggled condition, these regulars were like too many of the Harphaxi troops Kalvan had seen this day: "…discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters and ostlers trade fall'n; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace; ten times more dishonorable ragged than an old-faced ancient" There'd been plenty of those all right, as well as a few boys not much older than Harmakros' son. Like Falstaff before them, the Harphaxi captains could say: "If I be not ashamed of my soldiers I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably"-not to mention losing their Great King a battle.
Kalvan didn't recall what a gurnet was, but he certainly recalled seeing some of the Harphaxi captains properly soused. Not just the captains, either; he'd helped round up about a hundred mercenaries who'd found a wagon load of beer and drunk until they could barely stand, let alone fight.
That was one of the few times Kalvan had to restrain his men from killing prisoners-when they discovered the beer was all gone!