Diana pulled Minna to her and held her tightly, holding her breath. All along the rampart, others were standing and watching too.
The leading warriors were twenty paces from the wall when the ground collapsed, sending a good many of them tumbling down into the pits beneath. The pits were lined with thick, sharpened stakes that had been driven into the ground point up and had been covered with a thin lacing of timber and disguised with sods of earth and weeds.
The first Saxons to fall into the pits, if they did not die at once, died when they were driven farther onto the stakes by those who lost their footing and fell in on top of their companions.
The rest fell back, confused.
A cheer went up from the wall and Diana found she could draw breath. The first terrifying rush had been halted.
There were perhaps a dozen warriors who had by luck found themselves on the actual road that led directly to the gate, which had not collapsed beneath them. They began hammering on the gates, looking for weaknesses and some of those who had not fallen circled the pits and headed for the gates too.
Diana waited until no more could squeeze onto the narrow strip of land. “Now!” she called.
From inside the gate, a dozen willing hands pulled out the main supports holding up the “bridge” on the other side of the gate.
There were outraged cries as the remaining timbers cracked and fell away, sending more of them into the pit waiting below.
Those left unscathed pulled back from the pits and regrouped. They stood around one of the tallest warriors there, a huge man with a long shield and a sword. The leader.
“What will they do now, my lady?” someone asked her.
“I don’t know. But if it were me, I would try the other walls, to see if there is an easier way in.”
A few moments later two groups of warriors jogged around to the ends of the pits and began prying farther along the ground with their spears, while a dozen others moved off down the road to the nearest stand of trees.
Diana watched the groups testing the ground near the corners of the walls.
“What are they going into the trees for?” another asked.
“A good-sized tree to use as a bridge and another for a battering ram,” Diana murmured. The men testing the ground had discovered the pits went around the corners and were gradually working their way down the side walls.
Diana slowly walked the length of the rampart, following the progress of the group on the west wall, until she came up against the end wall of the house itself. She watched the soldiers out of sight, then called to Sosia’s son, Ambrose, where he sat on the apex of the roof. “Are the other observers in place?”
He nodded and turned his head back to watch the soldiers.
“Let me know if they try anything.”
“Yes, my lady!” he called.
Diana went back to the front wall. Sosia had returned and was watching. Diana took up a place next to her.
The soldiers who had gone into the trees had returned, loaded with timber, which they dumped onto the ground in the middle of the nearest field.
“What are they doing?” Diana murmured.
Sosia shook her head. “Building a fire, it looks like.”
It was, indeed, a simple fire. Diana watched as more timber was bought and more fires lit, until the fields in front of the villa glowed with more light than the almost-set sun. To one side, more long tree trunks were laid side by side.
“Light, fire and timber for a bridge,” Sosia murmured. “I believe they mean to break our defenses even if it takes all night, my lady.”
Diana nodded. “So it seems.” She suddenly felt extremely tired. She walked to the ladder and climbed down and made her way to the verandah, weaving through the families and groups who sat on the ground, around small campfires, huddled fearfully together for warmth and comfort. She went into the library and picked up her father’s sword and belt from the desk where she had laid it that afternoon and when she turned around, found that Sosia and Minna had followed her.
“It may go on all night,” Diana said. “We have to be prepared for anything.”
Sosia nodded slowly, her eyes grave and Minna grasped her skirt, her eyes wide, as Diana strapped the belt around her waist.
* * * * *
Diana busied herself. At first, the heavy sword at her waist was cumbersome and kept getting in her way, a constant reminder of the enemy outside the gate. But after a while she grew used to the weight and learned to move so that it would not swing and bang her knees, or trip her and she forgot that she was wearing it.
She was given frequent reports of the Saxons’ activities. Not long after she relinquished her post on the rampart, the groups exploring the back of the villa attempted to scale the walls and roof. After the gates, this was the most vulnerable part of the defenses. The children on the roof gave the alarm immediately and dozens of people scrambled to the roof and threw a deadly rain of rocks upon the exposed warriors. The Saxons were pushed back to the ground and forced to take cover.
Darkness fell. The Saxons’ fires continued to burn brightly and they were busy with the timber they had taken, banging, burning and carving.
A little while later, their mysterious purpose was revealed. Diana heard her name being called from the ramparts and scaled the ladder quickly, rushed to the wall and looked out.
“Something’s happening,” she was told.
The Saxons were grouped together, busy with something in their midst. Then they arranged themselves and in an organized phalanx began a rush toward the gates, carrying a long flat object between them.
“A bridge,” Diana murmured. “Dear god, they have built that fast.”
“Practice,” someone added.
The bridge was lowered across the yawning pit. Now they had access to the gates.
“We cannot simply let them walk up to the gates,” Sosia said from behind Diana.
“What do we do now, my lady?”
Diana bit her lip. What would Alaric do? Fight them.
She could not fight them. Retreat was out of the question.
“Get rocks,” she said quickly. “Bring them up here. We can throw them.”
“It won’t stop them.”
“It will slow them down,” she responded. “All we can do is slow them down and wait.”
The rocks were brought and distributed and more called for.
The Saxons had regrouped at the edge of the light given by their campfires and now they charged again and this time they carried between them a single tree, shaped at the front end to a blunt point and burned to make it harder. It was a battering ram.
Diana felt tension coil in her stomach. The Saxons had worked far more quickly than she had anticipated. With unexpected speed they had explored all the defenses, tested a weak point and been turned back and now were concentrating all their efforts on the quickest way through the wall.
Practice, indeed.
As soon as the Saxons were in range, the people on the rampart pelted them with stones, aiming for their heads and chests. They were rewarded by seeing two of the warriors fall away and lie still but their places were taken by others and still the ram came on.
The impact against the gates made the entire wall shiver and the rampart vibrate beneath Diana’s feet.
Fear curled through her body like a blinding mist. She could taste the coppery flood of it in her mouth. She rushed to the ladder, climbed down and crossed to the gates. Others there were staring at it with horrified fascination. As she arrived, another ramming shook the timbers.
Diana examined the crossbars. They were thick and well fastened. Alaric had built them well. But already there were cracks in the support beams and as the gate shuddered under the next impact, dust and particles from the wall floated down to the ground.
“Bring more stones!” someone cried.
“There are none!” came the answer.
Her fear swelled.
She stood and watched the steady deterioration
of the gates under the constant ramming, trying to think of what to do but no answer came to her.
Sosia appeared next to her. “What now, my lady?”
Diana shook her head. “I don’t know. I-I wasn’t prepared for such speed and determination. I thought help would arrive long before we reached this point.” She looked at Sosia. The woman’s face was calm as always but in her eyes was a look Diana had never seen before. Hope, despair and utter trust that Diana would come up with a solution that would save them all.
The gates shuddered again and this time there was a subdued crack.
“The crossbars are going!” one of the nearest women called.
Diana gasped, her breath pushed out by fear exploding through her. She turned to Sosia. “It’s time to run and hide,” she said. “Hurry! You lead them—through the postern gate, around the beacon hill and to the river. Follow the river until you reach the forest and then find a place deep in the forest.”
Sosia nodded and hurried away. Diana relaxed a little, knowing that Sosia would do her bidding.
Diana turned to the nearest people. “Time to go. Follow Sosia. Now! Hurry!” She moved on, passing the word, urging them all to hurry, hurry. The refugees who had come there for shelter were the quickest to move, having less to linger for. The householders that Diana knew as the most responsible she put in charge of rounding up others and getting them through the postern gate and away.
The courtyard was almost empty when there was a dry, splintering crack and solid thumping. Diana whirled to see the first crossbar roll across the ground, in two splintered pieces. There was now only one crossbar holding the gate shut and that was cracked and bowing under the pressure of the ramming. Another blow to the gates pushed them apart a little—enough for Diana to see the helmets beyond. She swallowed a convulsive shriek of horror, clapping her hand over her mouth and ran to the first door on the verandah. She would leave no one for them to find.
She had reached the dining room when the last crossbar broke and the gates quivered slowly open. There was a roar of victory and the Saxons began to pour through the gates.
Diana rushed for the kitchen and the way to the postern gate, her fear lending her speed.
“No! Go away!” It was Minna’s voice.
Diana halted, slipping on the tiles and almost falling and looked back.
Minna was running across the courtyard, heading for the leader. Her arm was up high, holding Verus’ curved knife and her face was pulled back in a feral grimace. A growl, an unearthly, inhuman cry, came from her as she drew closer, the knife swinging.
“No!” Diana tried to shout the warning but it emerged as a weak whisper. She started toward Minna but her feet wouldn’t move fast enough.
The Saxons had halted, astonished at the sight of a mere child launching a solitary attack and some of them even smiled. The leader cocked his head, curious.
Minna reached him and swung her knife and the blade sliced across the shield he dropped in front of his stomach. He raised the sword, reversed, so that the hilt projected out from the bottom of his fist and slammed it into Minna’s head. She crumpled to the ground.
Unhurried, the warrior turned his sword around and drove it down into her. Then he stepped over the lifeless body and started again for the house.
Diana cried out wordlessly and clutched the column she stood next to for support. For a moment her vision swam and she felt herself sinking to the tiles.
Then she heard the leader chuckle.
Rage bought her to her feet and she stepped out into the courtyard and drew the sword at her waist and held it at the ready. She knew she was about to lose everything, including her life, but turning and running was impossible now. She would not die a helpless woman at the mercy of everyone in her life. She would die fighting for what was hers.
The leader was smiling broadly and he stepped up his pace, heading directly toward her, his war axe already swinging back for a death blow. But Diana had lost all fear. Her only thought was a keening regret that she would not see Alaric before she died.
The axe started to swing down again, aimed directly for her neck.
There was a flicker of movement at the corner of her eye, a blinding glitter and the descending axe jarred to a halt with an echoing ring, blocked from completing its swing by a long sword.
“Step back, Diana.”
Alaric, here and a day ahead of her best expectations.
Dazed, Diana stepped back, her eyes never leaving the leader’s suddenly furious face. Her legs were weak and she knew she must sit or fall. She backed up until she reached the verandah again and sank down onto the tiles. Now she could see Alaric and spreading out to either side of him were dozens of men, pouring over the roof of the villa, coming from behind.
Alaric stood with his sword locked beneath the head of the Saxon’s axe, his gaze unwavering. He looked disheveled and dirty and Diana had never seen a more welcome sight.
The Saxon growled and lifted the axe. Alaric moved, the sword swinging up, to block the axe again. It acted like a catalyst, for suddenly, the courtyard was full of fighting men.
Diana shrank back against her post, watching a small version of what full scale war must be like, for no quarter was given. Alaric’s men fought steadily and well and the Saxons fell to their swords but they were obviously outnumbered. Diana estimated that there were barely forty or so men with Alaric. He had come alone, then. There was no army to back him up.
The Saxons continued to pour in through the gate. Only the size of the courtyard and the house itself prevented the Saxons from flanking them and taking them from behind.
From a distance came the sound of a horn—not a Saxon war horn but a cleaner, lighter sound. Griffin, even while his sword was locked with the flat blade of a Saxon, lifted his other hand and pumped it in a victorious motion. “Arthur! Arthur comes!”
The horn sounded again, closer.
The Saxons checked, stumbled and paused. Some glanced over their shoulders. Fear showed on their faces.
“Arthur?” Diana whispered wonderingly.
Alaric and his men pushed forward, energized and the Saxons for the first time fell back.
From right outside the wall of the villa came another blast of the horn and Diana heard the dismayed cries of the Saxons still out there and the clash of weapons.
Alaric and Arthur too, had come at her call, just as Alaric had promised. Her trust in him had been repaid.
* * * * *
It wasn’t until the last of the Saxons had been routed that Diana found the opportunity to speak to Alaric. She busied herself with tending the wounded soldiers, until more of the household returned to take over the task.
Then Diana steeled herself for a duty that was hers alone. Picking her way through the dead and dying Saxons, she searched for and found Minna’s small body and lifted it out of the carnage. She carried Minna to the bed that they had once shared and laid her to rest. Diana sank onto the stool beside the bed and allowed herself the luxury of a few bitter tears.
Alaric found her there. He stood at the bed and looked down upon Minna. “I saw it happen and could do nothing,” he said and his voice was uneven. “I was too far away.” He looked at her then. “I’m sorry, Diana.” He took her in his arms and held her.
For a long while they remained together, mourning Minna’s passing. The night was growing old when Diana could stir herself once more.
“You came,” she told Alaric. “You came back.”
“I was almost too late. It was so close. So close,” and his arms tightened around her.
“I love you,” Diana whispered.
He loosened his hold enough to pull back and look at her face. “You love me?” He seemed shocked.
Shyness forced her gaze to drop. “I know it wasn’t part of our bargain—”
Alaric laughed and she looked at him again, surprised. “Why do you laugh? Is it that you find it amusing that a Roman woman could love a Celt?”
He shook his head, h
is laughter subsiding and cupped her face. “I laugh, because that is the reward I least expected for defying Arthur’s orders, yet it is the sweetest to me.”
“You defied Arthur?”
“Yes, or I would not be here. I killed two horses under me, getting here and rode through the night…and still I was almost too late.” He touched his lips to hers, a gentle kiss.
“But…to defy Arthur…” Diana shook her head. “Your loyalty to Arthur—how could you break your oath? It meant everything to you.”
“Not as much as you do, my lady. Now my love has been rewarded.” He took a deep breath. “We may only have a short time to enjoy it, Diana. I have yet to face Arthur and the charge is treason.”
* * * * *
Most signs of battle had gone. During the night Arthur’s men had taken the bodies away and dealt with their injured. Now dawn light filled the courtyard, giving the people assembled there long shadows.
Alaric presented Diana’s hand. “Sire, allow me to present my wife, Diana.”
The big man with the red-gold hair took her hand and kissed it. Diana was confused. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one who made obeisance? She looked up at Alaric for guidance but he shook his head, puzzled.
Arthur lifted his head and she looked up into the startling blue eyes. They held a wisdom that only old men acquired, yet his face was unlined and youthful.
“To you, my lady, all of Britain owes its gratitude.”
“I don’t understand.”
Arthur lowered her hand and smiled. “By lighting the beacon and sending word, you have managed to set off a chain of events that have prevented me from making a mistake. When I make mistakes, my lady, the consequences are disastrous, so you understand that I try to make as few as possible.”
Diana couldn’t help herself. She found herself smiling with him. She shook her head, still not understanding.
Arthur laughed, a full-bodied, joyous sound and clapped Alaric on the shoulder. “When your beacon was seen, Alaric here was not the only one who roused at the alarm. As soon as Alaric left my quarters, he must have hurried straight to his horse.”
Diana by the Moon Page 29
