Blood Isle

Chapter Twelve: The Siege

Morgan looked outside her tent, and found the new morning bathed in sunshine. The rainstorm had moved on, and narry a cloud blemished the sky. It was a balmy day, with a cool breeze. Perfect for the planned festivities of the day, namely the sacking of Wendleham.

After, a sound breakfast, Morgan departed the cooking fire, and walked over to the command tent. Yesterday, the work crews had completed the last of the seige-towers. The massive structures, were being towed in position. Once there, they would be filled by a full complement of archers, men-at-arms, and heavily armored axe-men.

Donovan, Prince Everin, Celete, Changa, Sir Alfred, and Zafoo all sat studying a map, where the king explained his strategy.

"Our towers are designed to have four levels, you know that. At the top level, we will have it filled with archers, heavy crossbow-men and pavise arbalestors. On the other three levels, will be waiting men-at arms and heavily armoured axe-men," Donovan explained in detail. "During our approach, archers on the ground, and atop the seige towers, will attack, from behind a collapsible bulwark. When they have softened  them up sufficiently, the third floor will drop their collapsible bullwarks, and proceed to charge. The last to disembark will be our archers, heavy crossbow-men, and pavise arbalestors.

"I must say I like the plan, there is adequate protection for all concerned, while our ranged forces thin their numbers," Prince Everin said. "What about our men at the gate?"  He asked.

"They are serving to split the attention of the enemy, and a second avenue of attack. The invasion force there, will be primarily yours, Prince Everin. No matter what your forces will assail the gates at my command, prior to the approach of the towers." Donovan explained.  "To pull this off correctly, you must take the gates, both our forces will be needed to take the city."

Donovan, under a white parley flag, sent two rather young lieutenants to the gates.

"King Donovan, has sent us as a mercy mission. He pleads on your behalf, for you to send out your elderly, women, and children. They will not be harmed. Wendleham will fall this day before sunset," said one of the leutenants.

After a half-hour discussion, the town leaders decided to take Donovan up on his offer. They had exactly thirty minutes to depart; women, the elderly, and
children filed past Prince Everin's forces.

By this time, the men had entered the seige engines. Last night, saboteurs had set fire to the gates, in preparation. A great gate ram was wheeled into place, covered to provide protection for the men operating it.

Morgan was among the archers manning the third tower, towards  the center of the city.
They were steadily being pushed towards the city's walls. Meanwwhile,  the bow-master was hard at work, thinning the archers and other soldiers, alike. Their height advantage was working heavily to their advantage. A projectile from a arbalestor struck an archer standing beside Morgan.

In response, Morgan downed the arbalestor responsible for firing  the shot, her arrow struck the soldier in the throat, He died, gurgling where he had stood.

The attack upon the gates, was being hard-fought. Prince Everin's troops was maintaining  steady pressure upon the heavy wooden gates. The wood was heavy  and strangely resistant to readily burn. The gate ram, repeatedly slammed into the
wooden structure.

Horses. that were among the teams, found themselves ready targets of opportunity. They were unshackled from their reins, and new horses were led into take their place.

The trebuchettes, were pounding the walls slowly into rubble, incessantly. There was a surge of enemy troops at the gates. Overall, the invasion was progressing, smoothly. Their was a heightened sense of expectation, that was building.