Wagon Master
Rex Sumner
Cover design by MyVoice Publishing
Dedicated to the Royal Corps of Transport and one soldier in particular, whose recent death made me realise how little we appreciate the courage shown by some of the back up boys in any army.
Gentlemen and Scoundrels of the Transport Corps of All Armies, I salute you.
Chad sprinkled the fine sand carefully over the bridge, his shoulders hunched against the chill wind. He was a medium sized, nondescript man with a regrettable tendency to being overweight. He debated whether to get some salt, but wasn't convinced he could persuade the quartermaster to let him have some. His wagon slid going over the bridge earlier, and he was checking to see why and make sure it didn't happen to somebody else. It did not occur to him that he was being conscientious; it was just what you did.
He clucked his tongue in annoyance, as he found the crushed planking that was causing a skid to start, and the shiny polished wood that encouraged the skid to grow in the cold, icy weather. And to cap it all, the rails were weak. Weathered and old, he could see cracks in them. A good thump and a wagon would go straight through and into the creek below. Deciding it needed closer inspection from below, he moved to the front of the bridge where he could get down to the creek.
As he started to come off the bridge, he heard horses clopping up the road and saw a large carriage coming too fast up the road. The horses' necks were curved, indicating too tight curbs, and they were sweating. Chad recognised Sergeant Hicks driving the team, and sighed. The man was an idiot and a bully, and he had no idea how he had reached his rank. Still, he didn't want the horses hurt so he stepped out and flagged him down.
"Hold it, Hicks," he said, raising his voice above the querulous wind. "The bridge is unsafe when you've got the horses curbed like that. I'll lead them across for you."
To his astonishment, Hicks stood up on his seat. "Get out of the way, you fool! I have important people on board!" Hicks sent his horsewhip lashing in Chad's general direction.
Anger stirred Chad to action, and he caught the off horse's rein, bringing the carriage to a halt in a few steps, while he ran with the horse, hanging from the rein.
"All the more reason to take it carefully," he said, his voice calm with anger.
"Why, you young idiot," cried the sergeant. "I'll have you on a charge, so I will. Report to the duty officer immediately!"
"What is going on?" A man stuck his head out of the carriage, and Chad vaguely noticed red hair and a large nose, but his attention was on Sergeant Hicks who looked as if he might try and whip him again.
"Nothing, Sire," squirmed the sergeant, "just a drunk soldier. I'll deal with him directly."
'Sire!' thought Chad and looked in horror at his king peering at him owlishly from the carriage window.
"He doesn't look drunk to me," came the perfect tones of a well brought up young lady, and Chad found a young girl of perhaps twelve looking at him from the other horse. She was absently stroking its nose and considering him carefully from bright, calculating eyes. He took in the bright red hair and large nose and made the lightning calculation that this was the dreadful Princess Asmara that caused everyone problems. My word, she must have been out of the carriage quickly.
"What's wrong with my bridge?" asked the King with interest, climbing out of the carriage. "Show me."
"Your Highness," said Chad automatically and turned towards the bridge. The Princess took the sack from his nerveless hand and inspected it as they walked. She looked at the area where he had scattered sand and then went and looked at the railings. The King followed her, while Chad tried to think of something to say.
"Doesn't look too dangerous?" asked the King.
"It is perfectly acceptable, Sire, we wouldn't permit a bridge to get into a bad condition when you are visiting the frontier." Hicks had recovered himself.
"You said something about the curb?" asked the Princess, looking at Chad with that disconcertingly direct look. He saw her eyes were green, but they had been brown just now and he was confused.
"Too tight a curb will make them flighty, ma'am," he said, desperately trying to remember what you were supposed to call a child princess. "Then if the carriage slips on the bridge, they'll panic and pull the wrong way, making the skid worse. If the skid gets bad and hits the rail, it'll break and you'll end up in the creek."
"And the sand will stop the skid?" asked the Princess. Her eyes were brown again now.
"Not entirely, ma'am, but it'll help." He said nervously.
"Hicks!" cried the Princess without taking her eyes off Chad. "Why are the horses mouths bleeding?"
"Ah, ah," stammered Sergeant Hicks, taken off guard. "From the bit, ma'am."
"You're not using a bloody gallic bit, are you?" said Chad, forgetting himself in a sudden surge of anger and then falling over himself to apologise. "Beg pardon, ma'am."
The King snorted with laughter and the Princess waved her hand negligently. Her eyes were now boring into Sergeant Hicks. "Sergeant, change the bits on the horses. Then take them across the bridge. Walk them over. If my cases end up in the creek you will be on the far frontier tomorrow. His Majesty and I will walk the rest of the way. You," she said, returning her gaze to Chad "will walk with us." She turned and walked across the bridge, the King smiling and walking after her. Chad trailed along nervously.
Within a hundred yards all nervousness had gone, and he was happily taking advantage of her sympathetic ear while he told her what he thought of the Royal Supply Corps. It tends only to be the officers who are nervous with their very superiors.
There is an invisible communication system in an army, which allows people to know when disaster is happening very quickly. Thus they were approaching the main fort just fifteen minutes later, when a pre-warned Sergeant Major Cuppold, Chad's superior officer, strode out of the gates in his best uniform. The Garrison Commander wasn't far behind him, but the Major was a clear winner in the damage limitation stakes.
"Major Cupper, isn't it?" asked the Princess fixing him with her stare.
"Cuppold, Your Royal Highness," he answered with a slight bow, remembering they were not supposed to use court manners on the frontier. "Royal Supply Corps commander for this area."
"Excellent," she beamed. "We have been done a great service by your Wagonmaster. I am minded that he should be rewarded by promotion, perhaps to the rank of Sergeant." The Princess might have been young, but she had already observed a great deal about soldiering and knew that Sergeant Hicks would take his revenge on anyone of lower rank.
"Regrettably that would not be a reward, ma'am," said the Major diplomatically while Chad shuddered.
"Why ever not?" asked the Princess, her grown up accent dissolving under her surprise so she sounded like the little girl she was.
"I first promoted Chad when I was a Sub Lieutenant, ma'am, and he lasted a week before he was busted back to private. We tried again the following year and that time he only lasted two days. We agreed then that he would be best never going above Senior Wagonmaster, which is what he is now and he's the best we have on the frontier."
Chad grinned. "I'll hold you to that, Sir!"
The King spoke directly to his daughter. "Valuable lesson for you, girl. Never over promote. Sometimes you need to promote somebody for them to find out they don't like it, which is one of the truly great things about the army. You can be busted back down to the rank at which you excel without loss of prestige for trying something else. And not everyone wants to be promoted." He looked directly at Chad. "You know exactly what to do and when, I would guess. And you like that certainty." Chad nodded.
"But we'll have to do something," exclaimed the Princess. "Otherwise Hi
cks will be after revenge."
"Leave it with me, ma'am," said Sergeant Major Cuppold, grasping the situation. "Chad, I think we'll give you the Western Track, you'll re-supply the outposts as the thaw comes."
"Can I take Chloe, sir?"
The Princess arched an eyebrow and a grin appeared, which flowed into a smile as the Major replied hastily.
"Take my best damn mare to boot, will you? Oh very well, but I will send you two youngsters in the spring to lick into shape. Get your pack on her and come to my office in an hour, I will have orders ready for you."
Chad hunched his shoulders inside the leather jacket, thankful for the woollen jumper he had pulled on underneath it. It might be spring, but it was still bloody cold. With the lightest touch of the rein, he eased the wagon off the almost invisible track and onto the short grass of the high moorland. There was not much difference, and his offsider, a hulking youth with a cast in his eye, didn't notice at first. Then the map came out, and he squinted at it for a good ten minutes.
"Chad, shouldn't we be headed for the wood up the hill?'" he said in a worried tone, scratching the back of his neck.
Chad silently cursed the officer who had given the boy a map. "Not taking the main road. In wild country, best not to go the obvious way to avoid ambush. Never know when an Elven renegade band is going to come through." Chad had