army's a lot wider than a barn," said Helga soothingly. "Even taller, when you figure in the depth of the ranks and the range of the bullets."
She was soothing herself, she suspected, even more than her lover. From atop the wagon, the view of the oncoming Confederate army was . . .
Impressive. Let's call it that. Since the only alternative is "terrifying" and it'd really wreck my dignity to start pissing in public.
"Terrifying" was a lot closer to the truth. To begin with, Tomsien's army was huge. Flank to flank, not counting the cavalry, the lines covered over two miles of front—much wider than the laager itself. And that was only the first two brigades, each of which was three ranks deep. Behind, separated by a space of not more than thirty yards between them, came two more blocks of brigades. In theory, thirty thousand men in all—coming relentlessly toward a force half their size. It wasn't even so much the numbers which gave that sense of irresistible power as it was the incredible degree of organization. Tens of thousands of men, marching forward into battle as if they were all cogs of a single machine.
In practice, Vanbert brigades were usually understrength. But Tomsien's would be less so than usual, because the Triumvir had had the time—and certainly the prestige and the money—to have built them up. There were at least twenty-five thousand men in that army, counting infantry regulars alone. Helga didn't have the experience to make a good assessment of Tomsien's cavalry, but she thought they had to number another five thousand at the very least.
Against them, Adrian and Prelotta had about ten thousand Reedbottoms, most of them in the wagons; a thousand or less of Adrian's Strikers—Helga saw that he was holding them in reserve not far from the central compound—and a few hundred gunners of the Fighting Band scattered throughout the laager at the shields. Beyond that—
She scanned the area. What a menagerie. Perhaps five or six thousand cavalrymen from all the other tribes, maybe half of them Grayhills. From what she could see at the distance, someone—probably Esmond—seemed to be bringing some degree of organization to the Grayhills clustered toward one side of the laager. But the rest of the tribesmen were just whatever routed bands had managed to find refuge with
She was soothing herself, she suspected, even more than her lover. From atop the wagon, the view of the oncoming Confederate army was . . .
Impressive. Let's call it that. Since the only alternative is "terrifying" and it'd really wreck my dignity to start pissing in public.
"Terrifying" was a lot closer to the truth. To begin with, Tomsien's army was huge. Flank to flank, not counting the cavalry, the lines covered over two miles of front—much wider than the laager itself. And that was only the first two brigades, each of which was three ranks deep. Behind, separated by a space of not more than thirty yards between them, came two more blocks of brigades. In theory, thirty thousand men in all—coming relentlessly toward a force half their size. It wasn't even so much the numbers which gave that sense of irresistible power as it was the incredible degree of organization. Tens of thousands of men, marching forward into battle as if they were all cogs of a single machine.
In practice, Vanbert brigades were usually understrength. But Tomsien's would be less so than usual, because the Triumvir had had the time—and certainly the prestige and the money—to have built them up. There were at least twenty-five thousand men in that army, counting infantry regulars alone. Helga didn't have the experience to make a good assessment of Tomsien's cavalry, but she thought they had to number another five thousand at the very least.
Against them, Adrian and Prelotta had about ten thousand Reedbottoms, most of them in the wagons; a thousand or less of Adrian's Strikers—Helga saw that he was holding them in reserve not far from the central compound—and a few hundred gunners of the Fighting Band scattered throughout the laager at the shields. Beyond that—
She scanned the area. What a menagerie. Perhaps five or six thousand cavalrymen from all the other tribes, maybe half of them Grayhills. From what she could see at the distance, someone—probably Esmond—seemed to be bringing some degree of organization to the Grayhills clustered toward one side of the laager. But the rest of the tribesmen were just whatever routed bands had managed to find refuge with