To the Great Khan and Lord of Grass:
Neckless Peter Wilson, elderly and once your servant and ambassador, submits and conveys this report of information concerning the history, winning, and holding of North Map-Mexico by the young Captain-General Small-Sam Monroe – by whose order this is forwarded sealed from all eyes but yours, Great Lord.
Twenty-seven years ago, a band of fugitive Trappers – driven south from the mountains and ice-wall of Map-Colorado by the Cree – stopped to rest at Gardens, the town in forest and of forest.
Their notable persons were Jack Monroe, that mythic fighting man; Catania Olsen, a physician; Joan Richardson, an Amazon; and Tattooed Newton, to be revealed errant third son to the ruler of Middle Kingdom.
Within the year, Jack Monroe was dead – in tales, murdered by a bear jealous of his strength. Within this time also, Newton, with Dangerous-Joan Richardson, returned to the Boxcars' Middle Kingdom, where he came in time to his inheritance. On his death, years later – while arranging a reasonable agreement in Map-Kentucky – Dangerous-Joan was left to rule as Dowager Queen, and remains so today, aged, but no less dangerous.
As these storied ones met their fates, so Catania Olsen, caring for an orphaned Trapper baby, Small-Sam Monroe, traveled down to North Map-Mexico, and into the Sierra Oriental.
In the Sierra, after killing two men – one having attempted rape, the other having tried to steal her goat – Catania Olsen became physician to the savages and bandits of the mountains, and came to be loved by them.
Her adopted son, Small-Sam, grew to manhood in those harsh and freezing altitudes – a world largely peopled, as all North Map-Mexico had been, by North Americans driven south centuries before, as the cold came down. So their language was and is book-English, their ways also informed by those surviving copies of Warm-time books.
The original, the Beautiful Language, now is only spoken in the Empire of Map South-Mexico and Guatemala – and, one assumes, in the continent of wilderness below.
Twenty-two years passed after Doctor Olsen's arrival. Then, the Empire's Duke Alphonso da Carvahal attempted a reconquest of their lost northern territories. This went badly.
In a series of attacks along the western flank of the Sierra Oriental, Carvahal lost battle after battle – never, as the Warm-time saying had it, 'getting his ducks in a row.'
In these battles, the men and women of North Map-Mexico lost two leaders slain. A third, a very young man, was elected for lack of better. This was Small-Sam Monroe, and at the town God-Help-Us, he attacked the imperial forces by night, and defeated them. Then he sent all the common-soldier prisoners south, alive and whole, at the plea of his Second-mother, Catania Olsen, whose name is still praised as a saint's for mercy in South Map-Mexico and Guatemala.
The duke and his officers were disemboweled.
So successful as a war leader that no man cared to stand against him in rule, young Small-Sam found himself acclaimed Captain-General of all the provinces of North Map-Mexico – as they still are named in the Beautiful Language, Baja California Norte, Sonora, Chihuahua, Coahuila, and Nuevo Leon, now united.
He was urged to invade the south as the south had invaded the north, and so destroy the Empire. He refused, on consideration of that ancient stability better left preserved.
Now twenty-seven years old – though looking older – Sam Monroe rules south from the Bravo down into both Sierras, and east from the Gulf of California and Ocean Pacific to the Great Gulf Entire.
He enforces lightly in rule and taxes – but holds the towns, villages, mountains and fields of these fractious and turbulent people as with a fine noose, which lies slack unless tugged against.
He is respected and popular, but treated with caution, since his reasons for violence are often not anticipated by ordinary men.
Small-Sam Monroe – 'Sam' to his friends and near-equals, 'Sir' to all others – is stocky, sandy-haired, and exceptionally powerful and active. It is said in his army that few can match him with the sword. He carries what is called a 'bastard' – that is, a weapon a little lighter than a two-handed sword, with a grip called a 'hand and a half.' This weapon, I understand, is a rain-pattern blade, forged and folded many times from the empire's rare 'wootz' steel. And – which I think of some interest – though the important fighting men and women of this country follow the barbarian tradition of naming their swords, Monroe hasn't done so. A modesty availing not, since his officers and men christened the weapon 'Nameless.' So the great, in small ways as in large, are denned by those they rule.
Monroe's face, square and harsh-featured, is marked by weather, war, and cares of state. His eyes are very clear, a dark hazel, his lashes almost long as a girl's. Commanding an army whose men are often mustached and bearded, he shaves his face clean – as do most of his senior officers and administrators, likely in imitation.
The Captain-General's intelligence, like his vision, is clear, direct, devouring of subjects of interest, and dismissive of others. He is alert, profoundly practical, and unafraid. He works harder than any of his servants, though all, whether soldiers or administrators, are hard and constant workers.
Finally – and this may be unimportant, may simply reflect the pressures of great power on a young man less than hungry for it – finally, it seems to me that Small-Sam Monroe is not happy.
Important administrators: Charles Ketch – an exceptionally tall, stooped man in his fifties, once a prosperous valley farmer, then first Chief of Supply… and now Chief Executive, North Map-Mexico. What Monroe commands, Charles Ketch effects – and stands, it seems, somewhat in the role of father to the much younger man.
Eric Lauder – current Chief of Supply, a man in his thirties, squat, bearded, bald, lively and humorous. Lauder, besides commanding the army's supply train, is also the edge of the secret civil sword… collecting information, dispensing any necessary covert deaths. (He has informed me, in the pleasantest way, that he considers my resignation from your service likely a clumsy ruse, and that I remain under his eye.)
Margaret Mosten, Secretary. Mosten, an officer's widow – and herself an ex-officer of Light Infantry – administers Monroe's quarters and camps, and commands his personal guard. A sturdy blonde in her thirties, apparently easygoing and amiable, Mosten is both more efficient and more formidable than she appears. (I was told by a muleteer that on one occasion she personally escorted two drunken armed trespassers – found in the camp at night – to the perimeter guard post, where she cut their throats. A warning as well, apparently, to the guards who had not discovered and prevented them.)
Margaret Mosten decides who sees the Captain-General, but doesn't appear to abuse her position. Her relationship to Monroe seems to have always been that of a friend, not a lover.
Military Commanders: Almost elderly, and ranked brigadiers in the old Warm-time style, Jaime and Elvin Rascob have functioned as Monroe's senior commanders. These brothers, often in disagreement with each other – and occasionally with Monroe as well – nevertheless have a strikingly successful record in war. Their staff, field officers, and subordinate commanders hold these old men in great esteem. My impression is that the two brothers, together, have made one very formidable general. It may prove important, therefore, that Elvin Rascob is ill of tiny plants in his lungs – certainly the Warm-time TB – and is dying.
Ned Flores, Colonel, commands the Light Cavalry regiments. A restless young man – violent and charming – Flores is a childhood friend of Monroe's, his closest friend. Though apparently only the image of a perfect dashing commander of light horse, this officer, as many of Monroe's people, reveals more depth on examination. He is responsible, more than any other, for reviving the game of chess in this territory – where checkers had been the board game of choice – and more often than not beats Monroe at it. He more often than not beats me as well, and crows like a child at his triumphs.
Howell Voss, Colonel, commands the Heavy Cavalry. Colonel Voss, like Eric Lauder, is often amusing. He is also large and handsome – though missing his left eye – and is a favorite with women. (The eye was lost in a duel with an angry husband.) Howell Voss is occasionally subdued, 'blue' as Warm-times had it, and then stays alone in his tent. He plays the banjar very well indeed… and is said to be suicidally brave in battle.
Phillip Butler, Colonel, commands the Heavy Infantry. An older man, gray-bearded, small, silent, and eccentric – he always has tiny dogs about him; he puts them in his jacket pockets – Colonel Butler was the mayor of Tijuana-City before the South invaded. It's said by Monroe's people, certainly an exaggeration, that Butler has never made a tactical mistake on a battlefield. He is regarded as an extraordinary soldier, having become, as it were, a Regular among inspired amateurs. His pikemen and crossbowmen love him, though he can be a harsh commander; they treat him like an irritable old uncle.
Charmian Loomis, Colonel, commands the light Infantry. A tall, thin, awkward-seeming young woman, with light blue eyes and a bony – and, it seems to me, quite plain – face, she commands the elite of Monroe's army. ('Elite,' lord, may be found in Copy-Webster's. Bottom shelf on the right as you enter the library. I believe the word may have been Warm-time Canadian in origin.)… This officer, a woman with no family, quite silent, and who appears to offer little in any social situation – I've met her several times – is by reputation a demonic figure in battle, with quite extraordinary skill in controlling a force designed after all to be mobile, occasionally fragmented, and self-directing to a considerable degree. Monroe occasionally calls her 'Joan,' I suspect in reference to some Warm-time figure he has read of. All others call her 'Colonel.'
In summary, it is my civilian impression that these officers, and those they command, represent considerable military talent – experienced, highly disciplined, confident, and aggressive. I believe you would enjoy their company, if matters were otherwise, and would certainly then find them useful to employ.
As to Sam Monroe. His Second-mother's death – while fighting an outbreak of flea-plague in the township of Los Palominos three years ago – has left him with no family. (I must add that I mourn that most tender of physicians still, and deeply regret not seeing her again.)
The Captain-General's occasional women are companions as well as lovers and, I understand, come and go as tasks and places come and go. He is very generous to them, and to his dose friends and officers – but only once. An important gift is given – a prosperous farm, or wide sheepland, or large herd of fine riding-horses – but after that, nothing ever but army wages. So men and women who continue to serve him, do so because they wish to, expecting no further reward.
His army is relatively small, but as I understand it is a 'balanced force,' composed of five fairly equal elements: Supply; Light Cavalry; Heavy Cavalry; Light Infantry; Heavy Infantry. Monroe has stated, in my hearing, that his Light Cavalry, while very good, is not quite a match for the Khanate's, that his Heavy Cavalry, while excellent, is not quite as formidable as the Empire's best, and that his Heavy Infantry, though solid, is not quite the instrument that Middle Kingdom fields. His Light Infantry, however – men and women of the Sierra – Monroe believes to be the finest of our world.
It is the balance of these forces he considers crucial. That, and the strategy and tactics of their use. I'm told he has said, 'These are the edged tools for fashioning victory, as a carpenter fettles a table.' (For 'fettle,' Great Khan, see my monograph on Warm-time Words Unusual.)
The Captain-General's sigil – and, by adoption, the army's banner – is a black scorpion on a field of gold. Though a far-south creature, it is appropriately ominous. While the enlisted men among their prisoners are very well treated, captured enemy officers are invariably beheaded – or, if they are senior, disemboweled. This, apparently, a brutal remainder of these people's desperate days of revolt against the Empire.
FORCES, IF AT FULL ESTABLISHMENT:
Supply: Two thousand men and women. Five hundred draft horses. Five hundred pack mules. Wheeled wagons. Drays. Sledges.
Light Cavalry: Two regiments – each, one thousand men and women. Remounts.
Heavy Cavalry: Two regiments – each, one thousand men and a small number of women. Remounts.
Light Infantry: Two regiments – each one thousand men and women.
Heavy Infantry: Two regiments – each one thousand men and a small number of women.
The fighting formations above are to some extent based on Warm-time copybook models. (See that most valuable Kipling, Rudy. Back shelves, Great Lord, and perfectly alphabetical.) All the army is uniformed in plain dark-brown wool or leather, black cloaks, and black boots – high-topped in the cavalry, cut low for the infantry.
In each cavalry regiment, one hundred persons serve as farriers, armorers, remount herders and fodderers. The nine hundred fighting men and women are divided into three squadrons, first, second, and third. Each squadron then divided further into three troops of one hundred, A, B, and C.
The infantry regiments are each made up of two battalions of four hundred men and women, the battalions then being divided into four companies. The two extra companies in each regiment are assigned special duty as engineer-laborers, assault formations, headquarters detachment, scouts, and cooks.
It should be noted that while the other units often consist of both full-time paid regulars and veteran reservists serving annual duty, Supply is always fully maintained. And noted also, that the structure of 'Supply' includes the army's intelligence, police, and security functions as well as its field medical personnel.
Originally organized by Catania Olsen, the army's medical service is also available to any citizens nearby and in need, a useful component of Monroe's administration, which still tends to be a government-in-the-saddle, to be found alongside units of the army as often as in their capital, the undistinguished small town of Better-Weather, south of Chihuahua City.
Finally, I understand there exists a competent volunteer militia of well-armed men and women organized in each of the five states – and in each, numbering approximately a thousand – intended as the cadre around which a much greater force of irregulars would be organized at need. Since almost all men, and many women, go habitually armed in this country, with weapons play and archery their habit, this irregular force would likely prove formidable.
Military History: Elements of the army have fought five major battles, seventeen to nineteen minor battles and skirmishes. They have, until very recently, never been defeated. This single loss – and only two days ago – has been of more than three hundred Light Cavalry from a regiment unwisely sent down unsupported to meet a weightier imperial force venturing north. An extremely unusual misjudgment by Monroe, and something of a shock to his army, perhaps more disturbing than the casualties resulting from it. In this battle, Ned Flores lost his left hand, but is expected to survive.
A note of interest: Monroe's army is required to submit payment vouchers for any food, fodder, or materiel requisitioned, and the soldiers' behavior on maneuver or campaign is strictly governed. By this, the army's popularity with the people – and Monroe's popularity as well – is preserved.
The army is known for fighting in silence. No cheers, shouts, or battle cries. No sounds but infantry bugles or cavalry trumpets, then the clash of arms when the enemy is met.
And no crying out after, not even by the wounded, a custom apparently descending from the silence and sudden ambushes of mountain banditry, once a principal occupation here.
Commerce: North Map-Mexico is an agricultural and stock-raising area. With a seven-week summer so far south of the ice-wall, they grow cabbage, kale, broccoli, and onions… and trade with the Empire for the tomatoes, planted potatoes, yams, cotton-wool, tobacco and corn grown farther south.
Livestock are sheep, goats, chicken-birds, and to a lesser extent, pigs and spotted cattle.
For trade, as well as convenience, the Empire's silver peso and copper penny are allowed to circulate as North Map-Mexico's currency.
Intentions: Sam Monroe's probable long-term intention: a reasonable and well-administered peace – with local officials now elected every five years by those locals they rule. Territorial defense being sustained by a compact, capable, and veteran army, with the east and west Sierras flanking any invading force.
My Opinion: If placed under sufficient pressure – as for instance by the Khanate – Monroe will certainly seek alliance with either the Empire or Middle Kingdom… and more likely the latter. All New Englanders are despised here, perhaps in some cases unfairly, because of those ruling few who use their minds' rare talents – for warming themselves, and walking-in-the-air – also to make monsters in women's wombs. On occasion, people of this territory have galloped after the few fliers that appear – chasing those individuals by relays for many Warm-time miles – until the New Englander wearies or loses attention, and descends or falls… to be seized and burned alive.
Monroe has put an end to that rough sport.
Finally, my lord Khan, a personal note. I had thought that Trapper cooking was shocking, and Caravanserai's little better – mutton, mare's milk, and more mutton. I did not know when I was well-off. Broccoli and goat-gut sausage… I'll say no more.
To you by my hand only – and otherwise unseen.
Neckless Peter Wilson