Rora by James Byron Huggins

Author:James Byron Huggins [Huggins, James Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Christian Books & Bibles, Literature & Fiction, Mystery & Suspense, Genre Fiction, Action & Adventure, Religion & Spirituality, Fiction, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Suspense, Thriller, Christianity, Christian Fiction
ISBN: 1891668080
Google: vOzYAwAACAAJ
Amazon: B00D8LTRRK
Goodreads: 1198354
Publisher: James Byron Huggins
Published: 2001-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The Plain of Giovanni—three miles distant from the stronghold of the Waldenses—was black and swarming with a blanket of mercenaries, cavalry, cannon, and the militia of Piedmont.

Over a mile in diameter, the field crawled with clusters of the five thousand troops that separated in regiments, battalions, platoons, and squads under the authority of generals, captains, and lieutenants. If France or Spain themselves had been threatening the borders of Piedmont, there could have not been a more thorough preparation for war.

Pianessa strode boldly onto the dais where warlords dressed in armor of chain mail and leather stood patiently. Each of the warriors was a formidable and threatening image, most having earned their position by the strength of their sword, as nepotism did not prolong a man's life or career once a conflict was joined. And yet, as fearsome as they appeared, they were but shades of the Marquis de Pianessa s awesome and powerful countenance.

His armor was solid black, a combination of chain mail and stained leather carefully fitted with straps to conform to his enormous form and to allow vast freedom of movement in the shoulders. It was not plate steel, since no plate armor was reckoned reliable for stopping either a crossbow bolt or a musket round. Rather, it was armor built to withstand random longbow hits and heavy attacks by sword or dagger. Clearly, the marquis expected a vast amount of the fighting to be hand to hand, and he had caught the scent of blood.

Pianessa was one of the last marquis as they had been in days of old. He considered himself a true military leader and not a pawn of whatever reigning monarch chance had placed in command. After all, monarchs passed at a disturbing rate, but a marquis who could defend his borders and possessed the financial resources to compensate for external threats could remain in power for decades.

His new sword, half again as long as his arm, was sheathed across his back, but it would be switched to his belt when the time for battle drew near. Three flintlock pistols and two daggers completed Pianessa's armament and his horse bore two rifles. Six servants had reserve armor and weapons prepared. They would also reload his rifles if Pianessa himself engaged in musketry.

Dominating the dais, Pianessa leaned upon the map table. His face reflected an absolute concentration completely devoid of mercy or the cost of casualties for either side. He was in a warrior mode, now, and men were as meaningless as chaff. To be concerned about conserving soldiers was an activity appropriate for a war conclave. Upon the field of battle the preeminent interest was victory. A conservation of men set to survive the battle was a base point if the battle was lost.

Nothing was said to interrupt Pianessa, and he continued to study the map, as though disturbed by something he could not understand. His countenance began to harden as if to discern whether there was a weakness to his plans. But he gave no indication of doubt when he turned to Duncan, the sergeant major.

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