‘Right,’ Jack said. ‘We’re going to the east wall. The enemy are coming up the hill and we have to knock them back.’
With that, he led the way through the gloomy arcades and boulevards of the fortress. He spotted people huddled about campfires and was disturbed that none of them seemed to be preparing to defend the wall. They were all just sitting around, talking and cooking their evening meals.
And Jack heard no bells either. Henry had said he would send criers throughout the fortress in the event of an attack.
What the hell was going on? What was Henry playing at?
The east wall reared up ahead. The guns were still silent and the artillerymen, as far as Jack could see, were still sleeping or crouching beside their weapons. Jack had been expecting an army of rebels to be gathering to defend the fortress. But he saw only a handful of people milling about one of the breaches in the wall.
He marched across to the breach and quickly recognised Henry amongst the small group. The constable was speaking to the gunner Jack had sent off earlier.
As Jack approached, Henry turned to him and grunted. ‘This all your doing, was it?’
Jack gripped the musket strap hanging on his shoulder. ‘Get everyone up here. The enemy are just yards away.’
Henry’s eyes narrowed. ‘What enemy?’
‘Troops. I’ve seen them.’
Henry snorted and walked through the opening in the wall, stepping over the slabs of fallen stone that lay half buried in the earth. He stood just outside the breach, hands on his hips and his cloak fluttering behind him. ‘I see nothing.’
Jack strode through the opening and peered into the darkness. He felt a ripple of nerves when he saw that the shifting expanse of darkness was now less than fifty yards away. It was smothering much of the slope and spreading out as it approached the wall.
‘Just there.’ Jack pointed at the shadowy mass.
Henry growled. ‘I still see nothing.’ He turned to Jack, leaning in close. ‘What game are you playing, Casey?’
‘No game. Can’t you see—’
‘Out of my way.’ Henry pushed Jack in the chest and brushed past. ‘You’ve wasted enough time tonight.’
Henry clambered back through the opening and disappeared into the gloom, his henchmen following him.
Jack tensed his hands into fists. Damn Henry. The man was a fool and would get them all killed.
He gazed back down the hill and his skin crawled as he watched the strange shadow widening further.
The enemy would be at the wall within minutes. He had to do something fast.
He scrambled back into the fortress and stared at the worried faces of the villagers. Several still held burning brands, which hissed and spat sparks into the night.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘The enemy will be here any minute. No one is going to help us. Not yet anyway. So we’re going to have to do our best on our own.’ He gestured to the breach. ‘Get your muskets loaded and take up positions around that opening. You won’t see the troops at first. They’ll appear suddenly out of the shadows. You won’t have much time to shoot, so make sure you’re ready.’
The villagers dutifully made their way to the breach. Jack swallowed hard when he noticed Elizabeth standing at the ready with her musket raised. He didn’t like seeing his daughter in such a dangerous spot. But then, the whole fortress was a dangerous place. None of them were safe anywhere within the walls.
He would return and stand beside her as soon as he could. But first, he had to get more help.
He bounded up the stairway and found the gunner he’d spoken to earlier on the walkway at the top.
‘Start loading grape,’ Jack said to the gunner. ‘The enemy are almost at the wall.’
The gunner’s eyes widened and he raised his hand, as if to defend himself. ‘You heard the constable. There’s nothing there.’
‘Can’t you see it?’ Jack pointed over the parapet. ‘Look!’
The gunner’s eyes turned to slits and his expression hardened. ‘I take my orders from Constable Ward. I’ve listened to your babbling quite enough now. You need to go back to your camp and cool off a bit.’
Jack breathed in sharply. His face was getting hot, and he knew he was ranting like a madman. None of this was doing anything to convince the gunner to load the guns.
He snatched a look at the ground beyond the wall and saw that the dark, moving mass was perhaps fifty feet from the fort now, and one arm was advancing towards the breach where Elizabeth and the others were waiting.
Damn it. He couldn’t waste any more time talking to the gunner now.
He charged back down the stairs and raced across to the breach, slinging his musket from his shoulder. He skidded to a halt beside Elizabeth and Godwin, who were crouching behind a slab of rock.
‘What’s going on?’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘We can’t see anything.’
‘You will in a minute,’ Jack replied.
He poked his head up over the stone block and stared into the murk. Shadowy figures were moving quickly towards the top of the hillside. And as he watched, they came charging out of the darkness and into the moonlight.
They were European Army troops – hundreds of them.
And a large group of them were racing straight towards the breach.
26
Jack leant against the top of the slab, raised his musket and stared along the sights. He sensed Elizabeth and Godwin do the same beside him.
‘Fire!’ he shouted at the top of his voice.
The villagers peered out from their positions, saw the marauders bounding towards the opening and fired their muskets, virtually in unison. The muskets popped and crackled, smoke burst from the weapons’ muzzles, and a blizzard of bullets whistled at the soldiers. Jack pulled his firearm’s trigger and the weapon coughed and jabbed into his shoulder. Elizabeth yelped as her musket cracked. She slipped backwards and landed on her behind.
Jack looked down at her. He thought she said she’d been practising. ‘You all right?’
She was on her feet again in a second, glared at Jack as if it were his fault and then quickly bit open a new cartridge. When Godwin tried to put his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off.
Jack stared through the fading powder smoke. More than a score of soldiers had been shot down, but hundreds more were still stampeding towards the opening. He could hear them snarling and bellowing now and make out their faces twisted with rage. Many of them had thick beards – they were probably French Mohammedans.
The villagers around him were already hurrying to reload their muskets, jabbing frantically with their ramrods. But Jack could see they were going to have a hard job shooting enough of the attackers. They needed more help.
He shut his eyes for a second and called the Lightning yantra to mind. In less than a second, he had it ready to use. He opened his eyes and raised his hand. But before he could voice the commands, Sonali leapt up on to a stone block and fired green lightning from her fingertips. The dazzling blaze forked across the slope and thumped into the mass of troops. More than ten men cried out as they were bowled over, knocking back those soldiers rushing up behind them.
Jack wasted no time now in uttering the command. He felt energy wriggle through his arm and brilliant lightning streaked from his fingers. The bolt pummelled the troops, knocking over at least a score.
The villagers blasted again with their muskets. A ramrod went corkscrewing through the air – someone had panicked and fired without removing it.
Mark and four of the apprentices joined Sonali on top of the stone slab and they all launched another volley of lightning. Jack could see a look of terror and astonishment on many of the lads’ faces. They were using a power for the first time and facing their first battle.
Next to him, Elizabeth fired her musket and this time absorbed the kick of the weapon without even flinching. She glanced across at him and he nodded his approval.
So far, the villagers were doing well. But as they reloaded and the s
moke cleared for a moment, he saw there were still several hundred men rushing towards the opening, replacing those who’d been struck down. And further off, a vast horde of troops were streaming up the hillside and racing out of the expanse of shadow. Several thousand at least must have joined the attack.
Jhala had launched a major assault.
Jack raised his hand and fired another bolt at the soldiers. A whole row flew backwards, as if an invisible hand had lifted them up and then flung them to the ground.
He heard shouts and the brittle crack of musket fire to his right. He stepped away from Elizabeth and Godwin and stared along the wall. In the faint moonlight, he managed to make out activity at another opening further along the wall. Figures were pouring unopposed into the fortress. The rebel defences had been breached already.
He now heard bells ringing within the ruins. The peals started near the north wall, then spread like flames across the entire fort.
Finally, the rebels were mounting a resistance. He could only pray it wasn’t too late.
A boom shuddered from the ramparts. He glanced up and saw that the gunners were loading the artillery. They angled the muzzles down and fired. The guns roared, rocked backwards and disgorged fire and grape at the attackers, the orange flashes leaving spots on Jack’s eyes.
Jack whispered a Hail Mary. The artillerymen were finally responding.
Elizabeth was still firing her musket. She was doing well now, reloading quickly and efficiently. The other villagers were doing the same, and Sonali and the apprentices were flinging regular pulses of green lightning at the enemy. Jack reloaded his musket and was about to step back into the fray when he heard shouts from nearby. He stared back along the wall and saw European soldiers swarming from the darkness and bearing down on his small force.
He cursed under his breath. The troops must have come from the breach further to the south and decided to attack his party in the flank. He and the others were now facing foes from two directions.
He shut his eyes for a second and quickly brought the Lightning yantra to mind. He opened his eyes and was about to hurl a bolt at the soldiers, when a flash and a blast above him stunned him for a second. The artillerymen had circled a gun round and were firing grape down at the soldiers. The troops withered and fell back before the onslaught. A second detachment of gunners fired their weapon. The gun bucked, belched smoke, and then a deadly hail of bullets shrieked down at the soldiers. Scores of men dropped suddenly to the ground. The remainder retreated back along the wall, where their comrades were still spilling into the fortress.
Jack heard a scream. When he whirled round, he saw that a wave of attackers had got as far as the breach itself. Several villagers clicked out their muskets’ knives and drove their weapons into the soldiers. One attacker jabbed back and impaled one of the apprentices on his knife. The lad fell back, blood foaming from his mouth. The soldier looked around wildly for someone else to stab.
Jack raised his arm, recalled the yantra and blasted lightning at the soldier. The blaze punched the man in the chest and hurled him back out of the breach.
The villagers managed to repel the assault, but still more waves of troops were charging at the opening, their yells echoing inside the fortress. Elizabeth and Godwin were still firing their muskets. Sonali, Mark, Saleem and most of the rest of Jack’s group were still alive and fighting.
Jack thanked Christ they were all safe so far.
‘God’s blood!’ someone shouted behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Henry marching out of the ruins, a party of around two hundred men striding behind him.
Henry’s eyes widened as he saw the guns flashing on the wall and Jack’s people defending the breach. He licked his lips, taking it all in for a moment. He locked eyes with Jack but said nothing. Instead, he turned to his henchmen and ordered them to split up. One force was to head to the south to defend the wall where the attackers were already streaming into the fortress. The rest were to stay to supplement Jack’s party.
Jack resisted saying anything to Henry other than, ‘I’m pleased you’re here, Constable Ward.’
Henry’s nostrils flared and his eyes shone. For a moment, he looked as though he were going to shout something. But then Jack spotted a ripple of flashes over Henry’s shoulder, coming from within the darkened ruins. Jack knew instantly what it was. He didn’t need to hear the dense crackle or see the ghostly puffs of smoke to confirm it.
It was musket fire.
Suddenly, he was caught in a thicket of bullets. The balls whispered all about him, screamed off stone, rattled against the wall and skimmed the ground, tossing up dirt. Missiles chimed and tinged against musket barrels and swords. There were a myriad wet thuds and cracks as the bullets struck flesh and bone. Dozens of Henry’s men fell to the ground. One man near Jack gasped and collapsed, blood pouring from a hole in the back of his head.
Henry roared, scowled and stumbled towards Jack as if he were going to attack him.
Jack grasped his musket and was about to click the knife out to defend himself, when Henry coughed blood, sank to his knees and clawed at Jack’s leg.
Jack looked up and saw many of Henry’s men writhing on the ground. The rest were stumbling away towards the breach in an attempt to get at least a small amount of cover.
Christ. Enemy troops must have crept through the ruins to attack the villagers from the rear. He should have expected it.
He grasped Henry beneath the arms and dragged him back towards the wall. He had to get the constable out of the way before the enemy fired again.
He glanced behind him and saw that Elizabeth and Godwin were cowering, pressed against one side of the stone slab. They were hardly safe from the enemy bullets there, but they were at least partially protected. The other villagers were dithering. Some had now ducked behind the stonework to hide from the troops behind them. Others continued to blast feverishly at the soldiers still storming the breach. The villagers were caught in a desperate situation, with nowhere to run to.
The troops in the ruins fired again. A second storm of balls shrieked around Jack. A bullet plucked at the side of his tunic. Another shattered the musket stock of one of Henry’s men standing nearby. The balls lashed the stones about the breach, spitting up dust. Several villagers were hit in the back as they tried to fight off the attackers outside the walls.
Jack’s heart was crashing in his chest and his breath was short as he scrambled over to Elizabeth and Godwin. He hauled Henry alongside the stone slab and ducked down himself. He was still partly in the line of fire. But there was no point climbing further into the breach while the army were still rushing at the wall.
Godwin was raising his musket and firing at the enemy, but Elizabeth bent over Henry with Jack.
The constable was still breathing, but he seemed to have been hit several times in the back and blood was welling from his mouth. He stared at Jack and spoke in a cracked voice. ‘You were right, Casey.’
‘Forget that now,’ Jack said.
‘No.’ Henry grasped Jack’s tunic. ‘You were right.’
Then Henry’s head fell back and his eyes went cold as pearls. Jack searched for a pulse, but it was clear the constable was dead.
Damn it. The fortress was now without a commander – when it needed one the most.
Another volley of bullets blistered the air about Jack. A ball shrieked against the stone near Elizabeth’s head, and she gasped and recoiled. Several more missiles were sucked into the ground.
The villagers were in a hopeless position and Jack knew they couldn’t stay where they were. They were trapped between two sets of attackers and would soon be slaughtered.
He had to do something.
He scanned the ruins. Somewhere in the shadows the European Army troops were reloading their muskets and preparing to fire again. How many of them were there? It was impossible to tell, but it could easily be a hundred or more.
He raised his head and looked across the breach. At le
ast a hundred of Henry’s men had survived and were now crouching amongst the broken stonework, seemingly at a loss as to how to respond to the attack.
Jack knew what he had to do. He didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice.
He grasped Elizabeth’s shoulder. ‘Stay here.’
Then he stood up and yelled across at Henry’s men. ‘Follow me!’ He clicked the latch on his musket and the knife clacked out. ‘Charge!’
Almost without realising what he was doing, he began sprinting towards the ruins, heading straight into the area where the muskets had been fired from. His heart roared and echoed in his head. Fire seemed to course through his body. There was a wild cry on his lips.
He would kill those bastards hiding in the shadows. Kill as many of them as he could. Because this was his people’s fortress, his people’s lands, his people’s country, and he would show the enemy how the English fought …
He was vaguely aware that Henry’s men were charging into the darkness alongside him. He could hear them cheering and howling.
Then the muskets started again. Small blots of flame jabbed the gloom. Jack found himself charging into a storm of whispering missiles. They hummed in his ears and one ruffled his hair. Crusaders cried out and fell all about him. He saw one man get hit in the forehead and topple over with blood and gristle dribbling down his cheeks. Another man caught a ball in his eye, a line of blood jetting out from his eye socket.
But Jack was invincible. He couldn’t be hit, because he had to do this now. He had to defeat the enemy and save his family.
And then suddenly he was enveloped by the ruins and racing through an archway, into a chamber where the roof was largely intact. He skidded to a halt. It was almost pitch-black in the room – the only light came from the faint moonbeams striking through the gaps in the ceiling. But it only took him a second to make out the European Army soldier crouching in a corner.
The War of the Grail Page 27
