by Guy Antibes
“The squads are lined up ready to go,” a soldier said, relaying the information from the other sergeants. Bellia could hear near panic in the soldier’s voice.
At least everyone lay in place. The wait made Bellia realize that the tunnel was warmer than outside. At least she discovered one good thing about this mission. She focused on that.
“Nearly through.” Again the voice was faint. The squad began to inch forward. Bellia saw the light from the torch up ahead. She reached it, surprised to see how large the area in front of the foundation breach was. A jumble of brick and stone was packed against a section. She realized they had put their diggings somewhere.
“Thanks,” Bellia said to the digger, who pressed himself against a bulge in the tunnel.
“Luck,” he replied as Bellia turned to crawl over brick, mortar and stone fragments. She continued to crawl. The wall seemed to extend forever in front of her. Then she heard other voices as she put her hand out into thin air.
“We’re through, ma’am. We’ll be lighting a torch now,” Romo whispered.
A tinderbox sparked giving a quick flash of the women’s grim faces. A slim flame lit a torch illuminating a basement.
“The gods have granted my last wish,” said one of her squad.
Caskets lined the walls. Not burial caskets, but caskets for wine and ale. Shelves revealed bottles of fine wines and liquor.
Bellia’s eyes widened. “Menna, Romo.”
The two women appeared at Bellia’s side. “Yes, sir.” Menna seemed to know what Bellia thought as her greeting was glum.
Bellia had an idea. “Can’t we fashion these spirit bottles with burning rags and throw them at our enemy?”
“Yes,” Romo said. Bellia sensed the reluctance in her voice as well. She just smiled. “We can sow disruption in our foe’s ranks. Remember King Rollack’s laws about looting. Stealing drink is an offense. However, you might have to take a swallow or two to make room for the rag.”
“Yes, ma’am!” That changed the attitude in the room.
“Make nine bottles. Each woman can have one swig. Two swigs a bottle. Now.”
They went into action. Bellia didn’t take a drink, but her order energized the rest of her soldiers.
“Now up those stairs. Our plans remain the same except every door we open we treat as emerging into the fight as planned.”
Menna ran up the stairs. She would be the first into the breach. She put her forefinger up to her lips. The room silenced immediately except for the cranking of crossbows.
“Load your bolts just before you shoot. I don’t want anyone shot in the back.” Bellia warned with a whisper. echoing the advice from the lieutenant.
The door creaked as Menna looked through. No light came through the door. A torch made its way from hand to hand up to Menna. The next squad leaked into the room. Bellia whispered to the sergeant about the spirit bottles as her squad made their way into the darkness above.
Once above, Bellia made her way to the front. “This is a basement used for storing food. We’re through the tunnel. I’ll lead, Menna.”
At the top of a flight of stairs, the next door revealed a wavering light at its edges. “Fireplace.” Menna whispered in Bellia’s ear. It was time to wait. She received word that the other two squads were ready to go.
“Slowly at first. When they attack we yell as loudly as we can.” Bellia was following the orders given her from the lieutenant.
Menna slowly opened the door. A banked cooking fireplace threw its red glow across an empty kitchen. Bellia could smell her own sweat. They skulked in the enemy city, yet to see an enemy. Somehow, the lack of enemy increased the tension that Bellia felt.
Another door, a hand span wider. The wavering light of a fireplace lit up this one around its edges as well. As silently as they could, the kitchen filled with the three squads.
Bellia took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A finger’s breadth, then a hand span. Bodies lay on the floor wrapped in sheets and blankets. Could this be a morgue? She couldn’t smell the odors of death. She slid into the room by herself. The tables and chairs of the tavern could be seen stacked against a wall. Two women dozed in chairs by the fireplace. Bellia looked at the bodies. Women and children lay sleeping on the floor.
“Women and children,” she whispered to Menna and Romo. The two other sergeants walked up. “Women and children,” Bellia repeated.
“Should we kill them?” Romo said.
“What would King Rollack do to us if we slaughtered innocents?” Bellia asked, knowing that Romo would know the answer. “We will file into the room as quietly as possible.
“Romo and Menna will stand by each of the women in the chairs. If they rise up, I want them pushed down and bound and gagged. If any scream, I want that stopped. No killing, but if you have to knock them out, do it.
“See those dish towels stacked up?” Bellia pointed. “Tear them into strips and use them to gag all of the enemy. Whatever the lieutenant or the division commander orders, after that, is their responsibility.”
The soldiers sneaked into the room. When Menna and Romo stood next to the women. Bellia said quietly, nodding her head. “Now.”
Bellia heard the tearing of the dish towels into strips. The women woke. In their horror, they saw enemy soldiers, who wasted no time in gagging them. The waking women continued to struggle, but with swords drawn and crossbows threatening to fire, the women sunk to the floor and let the soldiers bind their hands.
In a few minutes, all of their captives lay gagged and bound. The soldiers sat them up along the walls away from the fireplace and the boarded up window and door.
The lieutenant entered the room with the division commander. “What is this?”
“Evidently, this is a safe haven for women and children. There are about thirty, here.”
“You haven’t gone out in the street yet?” the division commander said.
“No, ma’am. We are still undetected.” Bellia stood sweating in the middle of the room.
“Sergeant,” the commander said to a male sergeant. “Take your squad and quietly move up to the next level. Perhaps this goes all the way up to the wall.”
Bellia saw regular troops creep up the stairs. “Can we move forward, ma’am?”
“You can. Carry on out into the street. We are ready behind you.”
The lieutenant removed her helmet and knit cap and rubbed her head. “Our plans are still intact.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. The tension was evident in the lieutenant’s face. “Lead on, Sergeant.”
Bellia nodded. The squads lined up in the order of their drawn lots. Bellia removed the bar from the door. She took a deep breath and looked into Menna’s eyes. “This is it,” she whispered. She had to fight her fear as she opened the door.
Men littered the street, most slept in their uniforms. Some wore old armor. Bellia spied old plate, rusty rings, and boiled leather as she scanned what little showed through the slit. She thought they actually had a chance to surprise the enemy. A few men stood warming their hands around fires burning on braziers set on the cobbles.
All the men looked similar, shorter stature with light complexions. Bellia was fair herself like Menna, but she definitely wasn’t short. “Come with me,” she said.
The door opened and the pair walked through the street to the closest fire. Five men sat on their haunches warming their hands.
“Nice night for a fight.” Menna said as she pulled her sword.
The men jumped up, speaking in a different language. Bellia and Menna began to fight them as the King’s Swords ran out into the street. They formed up into their small shield wall.
The enemy lying in the street rose and pulled out their weapons. The haze of sleep slowed them up while the squads mowed the enemy down.
A window broke. Glass cascaded down on the helmeted women of the King’s Swords. A body followed, missing the fighters, slamming into the ground as shouts and the sounds of clashing swords filled the windows in the u
pper stories of the tavern. The shield wall moved in short steps, like their quick-step march, washing the street in the blood of their enemy. Rocks began raining down on them, as wall defenders sought to protect their brothers.
“Shields up!” the lieutenant yelled. The women on the inside of the wall lifted up their shields above the heads of the fighters on the periphery. Rocks and other debris clanged down on the shields.
The shield wall slid next to a building and the cascade stopped. A river of men ran down the street towards them.
“Bolts.” Bellia said, not waiting for the lieutenant’s orders. Soldiers sheathed swords and swung up the crossbows. Bolts were loaded and shot.
The enemy fell back as their brothers died in front of them. The tide stopped.
“Another round.” This time the lieutenant moved up to take control. Ten more bolts slammed into the crowd as the enemy slowly closed in.
“Light spirits.” Bellia said. She had to take deep breaths to keep her focus up. The fighting was increasing so quickly but she refused to get flustered around her troops.
One of her soldiers ventured to pick up a brand from a street fire. The soldiers lit the rags on their bottles. “Throw them at their feet.” Bellia saw the surprise on the lieutenant’s face when bottles shattered. Some puffed up little explosions, but the alcohol soaked into the pants and shoes of the front ranks. Soon men lit up like grisly torches in the night. As they tried to put themselves out, others behind them found their shoes on fire.
Holes in their lines opened up as their compatriots dragged the burning men out of the way.
“Advance!”
The shield wall expanded across the street as swords replaced crossbows and short spears appeared to stick through the squads’ shields.
Again moving in the short step march, they began to force the enemy back. The short spears thrust out from between the shields from the women behind the wall. Those in the front held their swords high and slashed down at their enemy. The fight wasn’t even fair. The squads moved farther up the street as more of the King’s men flowed from the tavern.
“Squads withdraw.”
The women began to move back as the regular soldiers formed up in front of them. The shield wall disappeared and the fighting became disorganized. Regular soldiers fought on towards the city gate.
The King’s Swords ran to face the other direction to defend the soldiers pouring from the tavern. The women reformed the shield wall, this time as a defense. The enemy ran into the King’s Swords trying to get past them to attack the Wansuan soldiers running towards the city gate, but the lane was too narrow. Squads of crossbowmen soon replaced the King’s Swords as more soldiers bubbled up from the tunnel and into the fight.
The lieutenant ordered her troops to clean up the street as the fighting had moved farther ahead and farther behind. Enemy bodies were stacked in one pile and the wounded and dead of the King’s men were placed on the side of the lane closer to the wall.
Bellia looked up from her task, helping a wounded woman from another squad over to the wall, when she heard increased shouting. The gates were open and there was talk of the King’s men flooding into the city.
“Our fight is over for this siege,” the lieutenant said, binding the shoulder of a wounded woman. “As soon as we can, we leave the city and go back to our tents. By this time tomorrow, too many of our fellow soldiers will be hanging for violating the looting and raping rules. I don’t want our unit tempted.”
Bellia sat against the wall, staring at the stained cobbles, smelling the iron odor of blood and the ugly stench of dying men. Her energy left her as he thought how many fathers or husbands of the women and children in the tavern they had killed tonight.
It was too much. She let her mind go numb and closed her eyes and slept amidst the great victory.
The lieutenant nudged her. “Time to go. Gather your troops and leave by the city gate. Sleep well. Your squad did a magnificent job.”
Bellia blinked and opened her eyes wide to throw the sleep from her eyes. The women assembled. Five of them suffered wounds. None had died that night. Two soldiers didn’t make the muster.
“Where’s Romo?” Bellia asked Menna. The only reply she got was a shrug of her friend’s shoulders and a sorrowful look.
~
The sun peeked into Bellia’s tent, waking her up. General Bowston allowed the King’s Swords a morning in their tents to recover from their invasion of the Kokotan city.
Bellia lay back down, but found sleep was no longer possible. She struggled into her uniform, put on her boots and crept out of her tent into the cold winter sunlight.
The fighting took its toll, even on Bellia’s young body. As she stretched, the aches reminded her of the action. The lieutenant walked into their courtyard.
“We found a few of your people sleeping with our soldiers last night, rather drunk. No looting or raping. They must have hooked up with the men after they drunk themselves into a stupor.” The lieutenant made a face.
“Punishment, ma’am?” Bellia felt a touch of relief.
“I talked to the division commander. Two weeks of jakes duty ought to do it. Good work last night, Bellia. Only two women killed and three others wounded badly enough to be unable to attend the surrender proceedings. Nothing major for your squad. That usually doesn’t happen during a breach. Good strategy and better execution. The liquor fire was novel, to say the least.”
“There are plenty of nicks and cuts.” Bellia held out her wrapped sword hand. “The women all did great work, ma’am. But it looked like some of our measures made us look stupid.”
“Which ones?” The lieutenant kicked at the dead coals of the courtyard fire.
“The oilcloth protectors.”
“Did you take a look at yours, last night?” the lieutenant said.
Bellia shook her head.
“Just take a look. Have your squad ready for duty mid-afternoon. The King is due in to accept formal surrender from the city. Until then, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant.”
The oilcloth coat sat on the side of Bellia’s tent. After the lieutenant turned a corner, she leaned over and picked it up. Blood and dirt were smeared all over the front. She looked down at her uniform. Although by no means pristine, she could still wear it in the afternoon after a brushing. The coat had acted like an apron. Bellia smiled.
Menna crept out of her tent. “Romo?”
“Found sleeping and drunk with one of our own soldiers. A couple weeks of jakes duty for our errant girls.” Bellia gave her friend half a smile. “It could have been worse, much worse.” Yes. Much worse. Sleeping out in a newly won city was a very big risk. Even Bellia could see the folly. Someone could have easily slit both soldiers’ throats.
But it was more than that. War was a nasty business. They could have just as easily been ordered to kill all of those women and children—and for what? A city for the King? But what did that city mean to the soldiers on both sides who lost their lives or limbs? She shivered and committed to herself to focus on the day’s activities and no further.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Menna said.
~
The cooks stood around their pots, waiting for the soldiers who came to eat in small, tired groups. Some of the army still patrolled the city and the rest slept after the nighttime invasion. The pair walked up and received as much mush as they wished. Nothing special this morning.
Diggers delivered the timbers dismantled from the tunnel and littered them about for seating in the eating area.
“Nice to sit on something for a change.” Menna said as she concentrated on the porridge. Even she wasn’t her normal ebullient self.
“Lieutenant said we did well last night.”
“I know it. Our shield wall worked well, but we were lucky not to come up against a division of alert soldiers. The squad might not be so fortunate the next time. We dodged a bolt. Sorry, I’m not myself, Bellia. Maybe I’m just tired.”
&nbs
p; Bellia looked across the training ground at the city wall poking up over the tops of the tents. “We can still use the strategy behind the shield wall in the field, protecting the King.”
Menna snorted. “Unlikely, lass. The enemy would just run around us. No, a shield wall needs to be the length of the field. We held a narrow lane. The best possible circumstances. Everything worked to perfection. We were as lucky as Romo. Might not be the next time.”
The rest of the meal passed in silence. Bellia felt pride after the lieutenant’s praise, but in the cold light of morning, Menna gave her the perspective she needed.
They did perform well. The squad did everything asked of it and more. Yet this time, luck played more of a part in their success than made her comfortable. Perhaps, she thought, luck always played a part and this time it worked against the Kokotans. She shivered in the cold, looking down at her rapidly cooling food, remembering the fear she had to overcome in the tunnel. Her appetite disappeared.
The lieutenant walked up. “King’s coming this afternoon. We’ll have to make camp presentable. Make sure the women wash off their oilcloth coats. We might need them again.” Bellia looked at the blue sky, beginning to cloud up. “If nothing else to keep us dry from the rain or snow that’s sure to come today.”
~~~
Chapter Eleven
Blood Sacrifice
~
The Blue Scorpions stood at attention as the King slogged by. The fine mist that followed a shower of sleet dampened the spirits of the victorious Wansuans. The lieutenant ordered the troops to wear their oilcloth coats. The helmets and coats kept the squads relatively dry as they fell in behind the mounted men of King Rollack’s party.
Menna gave Bellia a thumb’s up as she passed in the column. They had no protection from the sludge on the ground. The squads slipped in the churned up mud the twenty or so horses left in their wake. Once they reached the cobbled streets of Piwata, the footing improved.
Bellia looked down the street as they passed through the gate. The bodies, stacked last night, lay in rows covered with sheets. Family members stood around their loved ones. She caught a woman spitting towards them in disgust.
