“How many?”

“A dozen? A score? More? The line between battle and skirmish is a fuzzy one. Some of the sieges dragged on, with many engagements. Do those count as one, or several?”

“You’re the soldier.”

“And even I don’t have the answers. In war, there are no straight lines. What was I saying?”

“Many battles.”

“Ah, yes! Many! And though I have tried always to avoid becoming closely involved in the fighting, I have often failed. I am fully aware of what it’s like in the midst of that mêlée. The flashing blades. Shields cloven and spears shattered. The crush, the heat, the sweat, the stink of death. The tiny heroics and the petty villainies. Proud flags and honourable men crushed underfoot. Limbs lopped off, showers of blood, split skulls, spilled guts, and all the rest.” He raised his eyebrows. “Reasonable to suppose some drownings too, under the circumstances.”

“How many, would you say?”

“Difficult to be specific.” Cosca thought of the Gurkish drowning in the channel at Dagoska, brave men swept out to sea, their corpses washed up on every tide, and gave a long sigh. “Still, I find I can watch without much sentiment. Is it ruthlessness? Is it the fitting detachment of command? Is it the configuration of the stars at my birth? I find myself always sanguine in the face of death and danger. More so than at any other time. Happy when I should be horrified, fearful when I should be calm. I am a riddle, to be sure, even to myself. I am a back-to-front man, Sergeant Friendly!” He laughed, then chuckled, then sighed, then was silent. “A man upside down and inside out.”

“General.” Andiche was leaning over him again, lank hair hanging.

“What, for pity’s sake? I am trying to philosophise!”

“The Osprians are fully engaged. All their foot are tackling Foscar’s troops. They’ve no reserves but a few horse.”

Cosca squinted down towards the valley. “I see that, Captain Andiche. We all quite clearly see that. There is no need to state the obvious.”

“Well… we’ll sweep those bastards away, no trouble. Give me the order and I’ll see to it. We’ll get no easier chance.”

“Thank you, but it looks dreadfully hot out there now. I am quite comfortable where I am. Perhaps later.”

“But why not—”

“It amazes me, that after so long on campaign, the whole business of the chain of command still confounds you! You will find it far less worrisome if, rather than trying to anticipate my orders, you simply wait for me to give them. It really is the simplest of military principles.”

Andiche scratched his greasy head. “I understand the concept.”

“Then act according to it. Find a shady spot, man, take the weight from your feet. Stop running to nowhere. Take a lesson from my goat. Do you see her fussing?”

The goat lifted her head from the grass between the olive trees for a moment, and bleated.

Andiche put his hands on his hips, winced, stared down at the valley, up at Cosca, frowned at the goat, then turned away and walked off, shaking his head.