Then it was the turn of the Wickan lancers to bolt forward in a sudden charge and their enemy quickly withdrew back to their original positions. Duiker watched in surprise as the lancers pulled up, a number of them dismounting as their bowmen kin covered them. Wounded enemy were summarily despatched, scalps and equipment taken. Ropes appeared. Minutes later the Wickans rode back to their defences, dragging the horse carcasses with them, along with a handful of wounded mounts they had managed to round up.

‘The Wickans feed themselves,’ List said. ‘They’ll use the hides, too. And the bones, and the tails and mane, and the teeth, and the—’

‘Got it,’ Duiker cut in.

The enemy infantry continued their slow march. The Hissari and Tithansi horsewarriors had recovered and now made a slower, more cautious approach.

‘There’s an old wall on the island,’ List said. ‘We could climb it and get a better view of all sides. If you don’t mind walking on the backs of cattle to get there, that is. It’s not as hard as it sounds – you just have to keep moving.’

Duiker raised an eyebrow.

‘Honest, sir.’

‘All right, Corporal. Lead the way.’

They took the roped road westward towards the ford. The old channel of the oxbow was bridged by wooden slats, bolstered with new supports placed by the Seventh’s sappers. This avenue was maintained to allow for the movement back and forth of mounted messengers, but, as everywhere else, chaos reigned. Duiker held close in List’s wake as the corporal weaved and danced his way down to the bridge. Beyond it rose the hump of the island and thousands of cattle.

‘Where did this herd come from?’ the historian asked as they reached the slatted crossing.

‘Purchased, for the most part,’ List replied. ‘Coltaine and his clans laid claim to land outside Hissar, then started buying up cattle, horses, oxen, mules, goats – just about anything on four legs.’

‘When did all this happen?’

‘About the same day they arrived,’ the corporal said. ‘When the uprising came, most of the Foolish Dog Clan was with the herds – the Tithansi tribes thought to snatch the livestock and got their noses bloodied instead.’

As they neared the trailing end of the herd the noise rose to a roar with shouting drovers, the bark of cattle-dogs – solidly muscled, half-wild beasts born and bred on the Wickan Plains – the lowing of the cattle and the ceaseless rumbling thunder of their hooves. The dust cloud engulfing the river was impenetrable.

Duiker’s eyes narrowed on the seething mass ahead. ‘Not sure about your idea, Corporal – these beasts look jumpy. We’re likely to get crushed in seconds flat.’

A shout from behind caught their attention. A young Wickan girl was riding towards them.

‘Nether,’ List said.

Something in his tone pulled Duiker around. The lad was pale under his helmet.