Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 23 - Defence and Defiance

Chapter 23 – Defence and Defiance

"Captain Morholt, Queen Guinevere, ready your men!" Mark roared.

The Saxons were running full pelt towards them across the blackened earth, the fires having died down sometime earlier, leaving the area to the south of the fort scorched and stinking of smoke. They ran in near silence, concentrating their energies on reaching the walls as quickly as possible to try and reduce casualties from the volley of death they knew was coming. They ran in a half crouch with shields held before them protectively, some carried ladders in pairs, the warriors desperate to make it to the top of the walls and nullify the enemy. Hengist had promised them treasure and riches, and all were eager to take their share: Arthur and Mark's heads also carried a special prize.

"Loose!" came Morholt's voice and bolts flew from the ballistae on the battlements. Saxon warriors crumpled to the ground and their comrades leapt over them. Seconds later Guinevere's voice added to the commands.

"Archers! Long range! Ready! Loose!" the first flight of black feathered death soared up and over the battlements, the first couple of ranks of the Saxons passing underneath them due to the speed with which they approached the fort.

"Rolling fire, at your own pace," Morholt shouted to the ballistae crews, allowing them to re-arm and fire without waiting for him to give the order to release the bolts, occasionally making them change aim to try and pick off a rider, or commander.

"Change to mid-range, loose!" called Guinevere to the archers, lifting her own bow in readiness. Iseult followed suit, her face pale. The ballistae continued powering bolts into the ranks of the advancing Saxons as fast as the teams could reset them, as arrows buzzed madly overhead.

Guinevere looked at Iseult. "We'll get through this, be ready."

Iseult nodded and looked over at Grayle who, between longbow shots, was helping aim the ballistae crews. He looked over at her and smiled, bowing his head in a parody of courtly etiquette. Everything seemed to slow for a second as their eyes locked, then Guinevere called another command at the men behind them, shattering the small moment of communion.

"Short range, loose!"

Her own shorter-range weapon coming into play, Iseult was drawn inexorably into the rhythm of battle, arrows rising almost vertically from behind them onto the attackers. Then the first Saxon hit the wall.

Bishop David, who had been standing by the palisade looking out through a knothole in the wooden palisade, flinched as the body thudded into place and adroitly moved backward to shout up at Arthur above him.

"Arthur, men at the wall!"

Arthur looked back at him and grinned fiercely. "Thank you, Bishop David, we will sort that out shortly. Would you care to join us?"

David looked around and spotted the supply tent. He shrugged to himself and wandered over to see what he could find of use.

Arthur braced himself as the first of the roughly hewn ladders hit the top of the wall. A soldier used a long forked branch to push a ladder away, tumbling several warriors to the grass below.

A ladder hit the wall in front of Mark. Arthur, who was standing next to him, glanced over at the Cornish King, startled to see the man shaking and whey-faced, his mace limply held in his good hand. He gently prodded the king with his sword who turned and looked at him, wild-eyed and pale, seemingly lost as to what to do next.

"Mace, right hand, kill them!" he roared, abruptly in command.

Mark reacted instantly to the order, unleashing a pent-up shout of rage, fear, and frustration that froze the men around him, his new mace smashing through the helmet of a Saxon warrior in a gory mess of brains and blood. As the man toppled from his ladder, Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder.