The Misplaced Legion by Harry Turtledove

Author:Harry Turtledove
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9780099588603
Publisher: Little, Brown & Company (Canada)
Published: 1989-06-14T14:00:00+00:00

The commander of the Namdaleni barked an order. Their lances swung down, again in unison. A hundred glittering leaf-shaped points of steel, each tipping a lance twice the length of a man, leveled at the bales of hay a furlong from them. Their leader left them thus for a long dramatic moment, then shouted the command that sent them hurtling forward.

Like an avalanche thundering down an Alpine pass, they started slowly. The heavy horses they rode were not quick to build momentum, what with their own bulk and the heavily armored men atop them.

But they gained a trifle at every bound and were at full stride before halfway to their goal. The earth rolled like a kettledrum under their thuttering hooves; their iron-shod feet sent great clods of dirt and grass flying skywards.

Marcus tried to imagine himself standing in a hay bale's place, watching the horses thunder down on him until he could see their nostrils flaring crimson, staring at the steel that would tear his life away. The skin on his belly crawled at the thought of it. He wondered how any men could nerve themselves to oppose such a charge.

When lances, horses, and riders smashed through them, the bales simply ceased to be. Hay was trampled underfoot, flung in all directions, and thrown high into the air. The Namdaleni brought their horses to a halt; they began picking hay wisps from their mounts' manes and coats and from their own surcoats and hair.

Soteric looked expectantly to Scaurus. "Most impressive," the tribune said, and meant it. "Both as spectacle and as a show of fighting power, I don't think I've seen the like."

"Sure and it's a cruel hard folk you Namdaleni are," Viridovix said, "to beat poor hay bales all to bits, and them having done you no harm."

Gaius Philippus added, "If that was your way of challenging us to a return engagement on horseback, you can bloody well think again. I'm content to rest on my laurels, thank you very kindly." The veteran's praise made Soteric glow with pride, and the day, the islanders agreed, was a great success.

But the centurion was in fact less overawed than he let the Namdaleni think. "They're rugged, don't misunderstand me," he told Scaurus as they returned to their own quarters after sharing a midday meal with the easterners. "Good steady foot, though, could give them all they want. The key is keeping their charge from flattening you at the start."

"Do you think so?" Marcus asked. He'd paid Gaius Philippus' words less heed than he should. It must have shown, for Viridovix looked at him with mischief in his eye.

"You're wasting your breath if you speak to the lad of war, I'm thinking," he said to the centurion.

"There's nothing in his head at all but a couple of fine blue eyes, sure and there's not. She's a rare beauty lass, Roman; I wish you luck with her."

"Helvis?" Marcus said, alarmed his feelings were so obvious. He covered himself as best he could.

"What makes you think that? She wasn't even at table today.

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