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And the Algarvians who crewed the behemoths retained the cheerful arrogance of earlier days. They waved to the Forthwegians as if to younger brothers. "You boys come along with us," one of them called, "and we'll do a proper job of smashing up the Unkerlanters."

"That's right," said a redhead on a different behemoth. "They haven't got a chance of standing up against us once we get rolling. You know that."

Sidroc knew nothing of the sort. What he knew was that, had the war been going just the way the Algarvians wanted, Plegmund's Brigade would never have come to the front line at all. It would have stayed in Grelz hunting irregulars, as it had started out doing. Well, now it was back in Grelz after a year and more of some of the most desperate fighting in the war, and it was facing the full weight of King Swemmel's army.

But, and especially after Ceorl's gloom, that Algarvian good cheer hit Sidroc like a strong slug of spirits. Mezentio's men had gone forward against the Unkerlanters. Why shouldn't they go forward against them again?

Algarvian footsoldiers came up with the behemoths. Some of them- new men, by their trim uniforms and unhaggard faces- gave the troopers of Plegmund's Brigade suspicious stares. "Are these fellows really on our side?" one of them asked, as if the bearded men in long tunics couldn't possibly be expected to understand his language.

"Aye, we are," Sidroc said. "And we'll stay that way as long as you don't ask idiot questions like that." The redhead glared at him. Sidroc was no older, but he'd seen things the Algarvian hadn't yet imagined. He looked through the newcomer as if he didn't exist. A couple of Mezentio's veterans talked to their countryman and calmed him down.

Somewhere not far away, the Algarvians had gathered together a good many egg-tossers, too. They all started flinging death at the Unkerlanters at once. "They'd never lay on so much just for us," Ceorl grumbled. "Put their own people into the fight, though, and they care a lot more."

That was probably true. Sidroc shook his head. No, that was certainly true. "Nothing we can do about it but make the most of it now," he said.

Whistles shrilled. The Algarvian behemoths lumbered forward, straight through the hole the egg-tossers had torn in the Unkerlanter line. Footsoldiers- Algarvians and the men of Plegmund's Brigade together- accompanied the behemoths.

Maybe the men who rode those behemoths knew what they were talking about. King Swemmel's soldiers seemed astonished to find Algarvians attacking. Whenever the Unkerlanters were astonished, they had trouble. Some of them fought, stubborn as always. But a good many fled, and a good many surrendered.

"Forward!" Algarvian officers shouted, again and again. "Keep up with the behemoths!"