Arutha said dryly, “So much for an officer’s dignity.”
“Well,” said Fannon, “I think it is time to give them another lesson in Kingdom warfare.” He raised his arm high above his head. “Catapults!” he cried.
Answering flags waved from the tops of the towers along the walls and atop the keep. He dropped his arm, and the mighty engines were fired. On the smaller towers, ballistae, looking like giant crossbows, shot spearlike missiles, while atop the keep, huge mangonels flung buckets of heavy stones. The rain of stones and missiles landed amid the Tsurani, crushing heads and limbs, tearing ragged holes in their lines. The screams of wounded men could be heard by the defenders, while the catapult crew quickly rewound and loaded their deadly engines.
The Tsurani milled about in confusion and, when the second flight of stones and missiles struck, broke and ran. A cheer went up from the defenders on the wall, then died when the Tsurani regrouped beyond the range of the engines.
Gardan said, “Swordmaster, I think they mean to wait us out.”
“I think you’re wrong,” said Arutha, pointing. The other looked: a large number of Tsurani detached themselves from the main body, moving forward to stop just outside missile range.
“They look to be readying an attack,” said Fannon, “but why with only a part of their force?”
A soldier appeared and said, “Highness, there are no signs of Tsurani along any of the other positions.”
Arutha looked to Fannon. “And why attack only one wall?” After a few minutes, Arutha said, “I’d judge a thousand.”
“More likely twelve hundred,” said Fannon. He saw scaling ladders appearing at the rear of the attackers, moving forward. “Anytime now.”
A thousand defenders waited inside the walls. Other men of Crydee still manned outlying garrisons and lookout positions, but the bulk of the Duchy’s strength was here. Fannon said, “We can withstand this force as long as the walls remain unbreached. Less than a ten-to-one advantage we can deal with.”
More messengers came from the other walls. “They still mount nothing along the east, north, and south, Swordmaster,” one reported.
“They seem determined to do this the hard way.” Fannon looked thoughtful for a moment. “Little of what we’ve seen is understandable. Death raids, marshaling within catapult range, wasting time with games of honor. Still, they are not without skill, and we can take nothing for granted.” To the guard he said, “Pass the word to keep alert on the other walls, and be ready to move to defend should this prove a feint.”
The messengers left, and the waiting continued. The sun moved across the sky, until an hour before sunset, when it sat at the backs of the attackers. Suddenly horns blew and drums beat, and in a rush the Tsurani broke toward the walls. The catapults sang, and great holes appeared in the lines of attackers. Still they came, until they moved within bow range of the patiently waiting defenders. A storm of arrows fell upon the attackers, and to a man the front rank collapsed, but those behind came on, large brightly colored shields held overhead as they rushed the walls. A half-dozen times men fell, dropping scaling ladders, only to have others grab them up and continue.
Tsurani bowmen answered the bowmen from the walls with their own shower of arrows, and men of Crydee fell from the battlements. Arutha ducked behind the walls of the castle as the arrows sped overhead, then he risked a glance between the merlons of the wall. A horde of attackers filled his field of vision, and a ladder top suddenly appeared before him. A soldier near the Prince grabbed the ladder top and pushed it away, aided by a second using a pole arm. Arutha could hear the screams of the Tsurani as they fell from the ladder. The first soldier to the ladder then fell backward, a Tsurani arrow protruding from his eye, and disappeared into the courtyard.
A sudden shout went up from below, and Arutha sprang to his feet, risking a bowshaft by looking down. All along the base of the wall, Tsurani warriors were withdrawing, running back to the safety of their own lines.
“What are they doing?” wondered Fannon.
The Tsurani ran until they were safe from the catapults, then stopped, turned, and formed up ranks. Officers were walking up and down before the men, exhorting them. After a moment the assembled Tsurani cheered.
“Damn me!” came from Arutha’s left, and he glimpsed Amos Trask at his shoulder, a seaman’s cutlass in his hand. “The maniacs are congratulating themselves on getting slaughtered.”
The scene below was grisly. Tsurani soldiers lay scattered around like toys thrown by a careless giant child. A few moved feebly and moaned, but most were dead.
Fannon said, “I’d wager they lost a hundred or more. This makes no sense.” He said to Roland and Martin, “Check the other walls.” They both hurried off. “What are they doing now?” he said as he watched the Tsurani. In the red glow of sunset, he could see them still in lines, while men lit torches and passed them around. “Surely they don’t intend to attack after sunset? They’ll fall over themselves in the dark.”
“Who knows what they plan?” said Arutha. “I’ve never heard of an attack being staged this badly.”
Amos said, “Beggin’ the Prince’s pardon, but I know a thing or two about warcraft—from my younger days—and I’ve also never heard of this like before. Even the Keshians, who’ll throw away dog soldiers like a drunken seaman throws away his money, even they wouldn’t try a frontal assault like this. I’d keep a weather eye out for trickery.”
“Yes,” answered Arutha. “But of what sort?”
Throughout the night the Tsurani attacked, rushing headlong against the walls, to die at the base. Once a few made the top of the walls, but they were quickly killed and the ladders thrown back. With dawn the Tsurani withdrew.
Arutha, Fannon, and Gardan watched as the Tsurani reached the safety of their own lines, beyond catapult and bow range. With the sunrise a sea of colorful tents appeared, and the Tsurani retired to their campsites. The defenders were astonished at the number of Tsurani dead along the base of the castle walls.
After a few hours the stink of the dead became overpowering. Fannon consulted with an exhausted Arutha as the Prince was readying for an overdue sleep. “The Tsurani have made no attempt to reclaim their fallen.”
Arutha said, “We have no common language in which to parley, unless you mean to send Tully out under a flag of truce.”
Fannon said, “He’d go, of course, but I’d not risk him. Still, the bodies could be trouble in a day or two. Besides the stink and flies, with unbuned dead comes disease. It’s the gods’ way of showing their displeasure over not honoring the dead.”
“Then,” said Arutha, pulling on the boot he had just taken off, “we had best see what can be done.”
He returned to the gate and found Gardan already making plans to remove the bodies. A dozen volunteers were waiting by the gate to go and gather the dead for a funeral pyre.
Arutha and Fannon reached the walls as Gardan led the men through the gate. Archers lined the walls to cover the retreat of the men outside the walls if necessary, but it soon became evident the Tsurani were not going to trouble the party. Several came to the edge of their lines, to sit and watch the Kingdom soldiers working.
After a half hour it was clear the men of Crydee would not be able to complete the work before they were exhausted. Arutha considered sending more men outside, but Fannon refused, thinking it what the Tsurani were waiting for. “If we have to move a large party back through the gate, it might prove disastrous. If we close the gate, we lose men outside, and if we leave it open too long, the Tsurani breach the castle.” Arutha was forced to agree, and they settled down to watch Gardan’s men working in the hot morning.
Then, near midday, a dozen Tsurani warriors, unarmed, walked casually across their lines and approached the work party. Those on the wall watched tensely, but when the Tsurani reached the spot where Crydee men worked, they silently began picking up bodies and carrying them to where the pyre was being erected.
With the help of
the Tsurani, the bodies were stacked upon the huge pyre. Torches were set, and soon the bodies of the slain were consumed in fire. The Tsurani who had helped place the bodies upon the pyre watched as the soldier who led the volunteers stood away from the mounting flames. Then one Tsurani soldier spoke a word, and he and his companions bowed in respect to those upon the fire. The soldier who led the Crydee soldiers said, “Honors to the dead!” The twelve men of Crydee assumed a posture of attention and saluted. Then the Tsurani turned to face the Kingdom soldiers and again they bowed. The commanding soldier called out, “Return salute!” and the twelve men of Crydee saluted the Tsurani.
Arutha shook his head, watching men who had tried to kill one another working side by side as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then saluting one another. “Father used to say that, among man’s strange undertakings, war stood clearly forth as the strangest.”
At sundown they came again, wave after wave of attackers, rushing the west wall, to die at the base. Four times during the night they struck, and four times they were repulsed.
Now they came again, and Arutha shrugged off his fatigue to fight once more. They could see more Tsurani joining those before the castle, long snakes of torchlight coming from the forest to the north. After the last assault, it was clear the situation was shifting to the Tsurani’s favor. The defenders were exhausted from two nights of fighting, and the Tsurani were still throwing fresh troops into the fray.
“They mean to grind us down, no matter what the cost,” said a fatigued Fannon. He began to say something to a guard when a strange expression crossed his face. He closed his eyes and collapsed. Arutha caught him. An arrow protruded from his back. A panicky-looking soldier kneeling on the other side looked at Arutha, clearly asking: What do we do?
Arutha shouted, “Get him into the keep, to Father Tully,” and the man and another soldier picked up the unconscious Swordmaster and carried him down. A third soldier asked, “What orders, Highness?”
Arutha spun around, seeing the worried faces of Crydee’s soldiers nearby, and said, “As before. Defend the wall.”
The fighting went hard. A half-dozen times Arutha found himself dueling with Tsurani warriors who topped the wall. Then, after a timeless battling, the Tsurani withdrew.
Arutha stood panting, his clothing drenched with perspiration beneath his chest armor. He shouted for water, and a castle porter arrived with a bucket. He drank, as did the others around, and turned to watch the Tsurani host.
Again they stood just beyond catapult range, and their torchlights seemed undimimshed. “Prince Arutha,” came a voice behind. He spun around Horsemaster Algon was standing before him. “I just heard of Fannon’s wound.”
Arutha said, “How is he?”
“A close thing. The wound is serious, but not yet fatal. Tully thinks should he live another day, he will recover. But he will not be able to command for weeks, perhaps longer.”
Arutha knew Algon was waiting for a decision from him. The Prince was Knight-Captain of the King’s army and, without Fannon, the commander of the garrison. He was also untried and could turn over command to the Horsemaster. Arutha looked around. “Where is Gardan?”
“Here, Highness,” came a shout from a short way down the wall. Arutha was surprised at the sergeant’s appearance. His dark skin was nearly grey from the dust that stuck to it, held fast by the sheen of perspiration. His tunic and tabard were soaked with blood, which also covered his arms to the elbows.
Arutha looked down at his own hands and arms and found them likewise covered. He shouted, “More water!” and said to Algon, “Gardan will act as my second commander. Should anything happen to me, he will take command of the garrison. Gardan is acting Swordmaster.”
Algon hesitated as if about to say something, then a look of relief crossed his face. “Yes, Highness. Orders?”
Arutha looked back toward the Tsurani lines, then to the east. The first light of the false dawn was coming, and the sun would rise over the mountains in less than two hours. He seemed to weigh facts for a time, as he washed away the blood on his arms and face. Finally he said, “Get Longbow.”
The Huntmaster was called for and arrived a few minutes later, followed by Amos Trask, who wore a wide grin. “Damn me, but they can fight,” said the seaman.
Arutha ignored the comment. “It is clear to me they plan to keep constant pressure upon us. With as little regard as they show for their own lives, they can wear us down in a few weeks. This is one thing we didn’t count upon, this willingness of their men to go to certain death. I want the north, south, and east walls stripped. Leave enough men to keep watch, and hold any attackers until reinforcements can arrive. Bring the men from the other walls here, and order those here to stand down. I want six-hour watches rotated throughout the rest of the day. Martin, has there been any more word of Dark Brother migration?”
Longbow shrugged. “We’ve been a little busy, Highness. My men have all been in the north woods the last few weeks.”
Arutha said, “Could you slip a few trackers over the walls before first light?”
Longbow considered “If they leave at once, and if the Tsurani aren’t watching the east wall too closely, yes.”
“Do so. The Dark Brothers aren’t foolish enough to attack this force, but if you could find a few bands the size of the one you spotted three days ago and repeat your trap . . .”
Martin grinned. “I’ll lead them out myself. We’d best leave now, before it gets much lighter.” Arutha dismissed him, and Martin ran down the stairs. “Garret!” he shouted. “Come on, lad. We’re off for some fun.” A groan could be heard by those on the wall as Martin gathered his trackers around him.
Arutha said to Gardan, “I want messages sent to Carse and Tulan. Use five pigeons for each. Order Barons Bellamy and Tolburt to strip their garrisons and take ship for Crydee at once.”
Gardan said, “Highness, that will leave those garrisons nearly undefended.”
Algon joined in the objection. “If the Dark Brotherhood moves toward the Northlands, the Tsurani will have an open path to the southern keeps next year.”
Arutha said, “If the Dark Brothers are moving en masse, which they may not be, and if the Tsurani learn they have abandoned the Green Heart, which they may not. I am concerned by this known threat, not a possible one next year. If they keep this constant pressure upon us, how long can we withstand?”
Gardan said, “A few weeks, perhaps a month No longer.”
Arutha once more studied the Tsurani camp. “They boldly pitch their tents near the edge of town. They range through our forests, building ladders and siege engines no doubt. They know we cannot sally forth in strength. But with eighteen hundred fresh soldiers from the southern keeps attacking up the coast road from the beaches and the garrison sallying forth, we can rout them from Crydee. Once the siege is broken, they will have to withdraw to their eastern enclaves. We can harry them continuously with horsemen, keep them from regrouping. Then we can return those forces to the southern keeps, and they’ll be ready for any Tsurani attacks against Carse or Tulan next spring.”
Gardan said, “A bold enough plan, Highness.” He saluted and left the wall, followed by Algon.
Amos Trask said, “Your commanders are cautious men, Highness.”
Arutha said, “You agree with my plan?”
“Should Crydee fall, what matters when Carse or Tulan falls? If not this year, then next for certain. It might as well be in one fight as two or three. As the sergeant said, it is a bold plan. Still, a ship was never taken without getting close enough to board. You have the makings of a fine corsair should you ever grow tired of being a Prince, Highness.”
Arutha regarded Amos Trask with a skeptical smile. “Corsair, is it? I thought you claimed to be an honest trader.”
Amos looked slightly discomposed. Then he broke out in a hearty laugh. “I only said I had a cargo for Crydee, Highness I never said how I came by it.”
“Well, we have no time for y
our piratical past now.”
Amos looked stung. “No pirate, Sire. The Sidonie was carrying letters of marque from Great Kesh, given by the governor of Durbin.”
Arutha laughed. “Of course! And everyone knows there is no finer, more law-abiding group upon the high seas than the captains of the Durbin coast.”
Amos shrugged. “They tend to be a crusty lot, it’s true. And they sometimes make free with the concept of free passage on the high seas, but we prefer the term privateer.”
Horns blew and drums beat, and with shrieking war cries the Tsurani came. The defenders waited, then as the attacking host crossed the invisible line marking the outer range of the castle’s war engines, death rained down upon the Tsurani. Still they came.
The Tsurani crossed the second invisible line marking the outer range of the castle’s bowmen, and scores more died. Still they came.
The attackers reached the walls, and defenders dropped stones and pushed over scaling ladders, dealing out death to those below Still they came.
Arutha quickly ordered a redeployment of his reserves, directing them to be ready near the points of heaviest attack. Men hurried to carry out his orders.
Standing atop the west wall, in the thick of the fight, Arutha answered attack with attack, repulsing warrior after warrior as they reached the top of the wall. Even in the midst of battle, Arutha was aware of the scene around him, shouting orders, hearing replies, catching glimpses of what others were doing. He saw Amos Trask, disarmed, strike a Tsurani full in the face with his fist, knocking the man from the wall Trask then carefully bent down and picked up his cutlass as if he had simply dropped it while strolling along the wall. Gardan moved among the men, exhorting the defenders, bolstering sagging spirits, and driving the men beyond the point where they would normally have given in to exhaustion.
Arutha helped two soldiers push away another scaling ladder, then stared in momentary confusion as one of the men slowly turned and sat at his feet, surprise on his face as he looked down at the Tsurani bow-shaft in his chest. The man leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as if deciding to sleep for a time.
Book 1 - Magician Page 41
