by D.E. Dunlop
Before the signal finished echoing through the streets the bows were singing. In a downpour of arrows, one hundred or more enemy soldiers fell dead on the old, broken and decaying asphalt. With a roar they charge the ambush, some falling and some passing through. As the fighting began behind the blockades the trumpets screamed. Gerald and his cavalry rushed into the ranks from adjoining side streets. The archers on the rooftops rose. They were not yet to realize the Sittyans had not yet finished loading their infantry into the far end of the street. During the night the Sittyan army had grown from one battalion into an entire regiment; in the rear of which they slowly pulled three black powder cannons. Close on the heels, perhaps too close, came the remainder of the second and third platoons of Bayfield; thirty-eight men and women, led sorrowfully by their Platoon Captain and daughter to the King, Angela, her hands and feet in shackles with the rest. Her brother Lester lay hewn on the road amongst the ruins of Allandale. Once the black-hearted Sitts defeated them they taunted and humbled them by stripping them to their undergarments and chained them with the prisoners gained from previous victories.
The morning sun had risen slowly above the bloodstained streets and found Sidney, Prince of Sitty, barking his challenge to the King of Bayfield. The armies had separated, leaving Gerald and Sydney, in their mounts, at a distance of twenty or thirty metres.
“Gerald, swine of Simcoe! Surrender your city to me and your people will live. Fail to surrender and I promise you will not see the setting of this day’s sun!” Sydney barked while pointing his sword at the sun.
In the few moments that passed before Gerald answered Captain Maynard looked around nervously. Slowly and without drawing attention to himself he backed out of the ranks.
“I will not yield to your kind.” The king answered nobly.
In the slowly warming late morning air the two charged head long, their swords clashed with sparks as they passed. With the second charge Gerald was able to turn his blade in such a way to free his rival’s hand of its weapon, which fell clattering in the street. Facing once again, Sydney drew forth a flail, and the two charged once again. The sword missed its mark and the ball dinted the metal plate on Gerald’s back, barely unsuccessful of taking him from his mount. On the fourth pass the prince rose in his stirrups to introduce the king’s head to his orbiting weapon, but instead received the battle notched shimmering blade in his newly exposed abdomen. As the prince brought himself about he fell from his horse. Had the blade met endwise, this match would be over. This not being the case, the prince, bleeding profusely, staggered to his feet to await his final assault. Gerald, just man that he was, dismounted when he saw the unfair advantage in his favour.
Both forces roared and cheered as the men ventured forth. In desperation and anger the Sittyan heaved his weapon round, missing his target, which of course was Gerald’s head, not, however, without composing severe punishment. The ball, being low and not high, left a compound fracture just above the elbow of the man’s left arm and Gerald met the street on his right side in great agony. Sydney too, due to his own pain and blood loss, lost his balance and fell. Each man lay wanting death to relieve his pain, but seeing the faces of those who depended on him forced him to fight the shock and rise to his feet. They staggered round one another, tripping nearly and sometimes fully to their knees. After what seemed to all like a month, one man gained sufficient strength to cleave his opponent’s head, dropping him to the street once and for all. Without enough breath for a victory cry the man tilted back his head for an arrow from above to be placed neatly between his clavicles. The red fringe crested helmet fell with a hollow clang to the broken asphalt as King Gerald of Bayfield crumpled backward atop the lifeless body of his previous opponent.
It was, in this instant, finally revealed to Lieutenant Amy who, stricken with sudden horror, stood on a barricade, the immensity of the attacking force and that during the duel of king and prince, the opposing army had ascended the buildings and over thrown her archers. Hastily she guessed her odds to be somewhere close of five to one against. She was uncertain of course, as she had not the proper time to count each individual head. She was, though, quite correct, give or take thirty to forty soldiers and her with only half of the original defence on their feet.
Time stood still in her horror. She issued the retreat only seconds before falling to a storm of arrows. The fringe on a helmet was a well-recognised indication of a high ranking officer and the enemy bowmen, seeing this, had decided it a worthy target.
The thundering boom of the drum was taken up once more and voices roared as the Sittyans charged the ranks of fleeing soldiers. By the time they had reached the safety of their fort another hundred were felled and trampled.
After the initial shock of Captain Maynard’s report, Jessie gave orders to double the ranks on the wall.
“What will we do if they break through?” Maynard asked with great concern.
“They won’t. They can’t.” Jessie answered. “We’ll have to deal with that if the time comes.”
The Sitts were nowhere to be seen. Their presence was known only by the sound of their drums, beating horribly from the other side of the valley. For five hours there was no sign of the assailants.
The cannons came first, followed by a few hundred gunmen who lined the top of the opposing ridge. The army of Bayfield was struck with fear, as they knew they could not compete with such firepower.
“Attention Bayfield!” A Sittyan general called. “You are greatly outnumbered and our cannons will make short work of your battlements as they did with Tecumseth and Banting. Surrender now and we will let you live under the reign of Queen Katharine. If you fail to surrender, we have orders from our Queen to destroy you utterly.”
Maynard looked at Jessie and Jessie knowing what Maynard was thinking gave him a look of refusal.
“But we will live.” Maynard protested.
“How can you possibly even think such a thing? You would consider living with Sitts, within the walls of our home?” Jessie questioned.
“Half of the remaining troops are under my command, Jessie. I say we surrender and live to fight another day.”
“As Captain of the Royal Guard I call the shots until the heir is crowned.” Jessie responded.
Without the approval or signal from Jessie, the rifles of Bayfield gave their response to the instructions of the Sittyan general. Guns, due to the expense of ammunition were much less favourable in comparison to other weapons such as swords, bows, maces and the like. They were, therefore, in the case of Bayfield and many of the smaller northern towns, reserved for the Royal Guard, officers and their equivalents. The guns went off from either side, sporadically at first, without consequence, and then they paused. The tension rose once again and all at once the guns on both sides erupted. Soldiers screamed and fell, some from the city’s walls and some from the ridge into the ravine. Jessie went to command a cease-fire. Maynard gave a disapproving look at the Captain of the Guard and then sneaked down a side stair near the main gate.
“We shall see who calls the shots, Jessie. We shall see.” He muttered under his breath.
Jessie arrived at the top of the wall before the smoke cleared from around the guilty soldier’s head.
“Sorry, Sir!” James said clearly. “I just couldn’t let that filthy dog bark orders at Bayfield without a proper response.” The sergeant said.
Jessie crouched down with him behind the bulwark.
“It’s alright. I think we’ve got bigger problems.” He said. “Maynard wants to accept their terms and he’s confident his people will follow.”
“They are fiercely loyal.” James replied looking around.
“If they all surrender our force will be cut drastically and we’ll never be able to fend them off.” Jessie explained. “We might be better off to take our families to Awenda until we can gather some support.”
“But what about Bayfield?” James asked
with great concern for their home.
“If they take us all now there won’t be any Bayfield.” Jessie answered. He looked about the crowded wall. The Royal Guard was intermingled with the military and holding defensive positions. In the distance he spotted Maynard with a couple of his sergeants. He looked to be giving orders about the gate and there was white cloth in his hand. Jessie turned back to James with urgency.
“Tell the other sergeants to get their troops and families and evacuate.” He ordered. “Go out through the secret passage from the palace. Maynard isn’t aware of its existence. I’ll catch up later.”
James started to go but Jessie caught his arm.
“Discreetly.” Jessie said as James turned back.
Maynard stood atop the gate surveying the gap with cold calculating eyes. “The final step...” He thought to himself. “Two years of planning nearly complete. If I play my cards right Jessie will be out of the way and Princess Kathryn may very well accept me as her Prince and we will rule Bayfield together.” He smiled to himself, but he was very aware if he played it too easy his own troops would have him executed for treason.
“Orders, Sir?” One of his Lieutenants requested.
“Lieutenant Cheryl,” Maynard replied, “I do believe this Sittyan dog is bluffing. Shall we test his mettle?” A gleam in the woman’s eye showed her agreement and he ordered to fire when ready. Cheryl quickly relayed the order and Bayfield’s guns roared at her enemy.
By the time the Sittyan cannons let loose the small ravine was filled with the smoke of spent powder. The armies were divided by a curtain of billowing white. The firing continued, despite the loss of visibility.
The standoff lasted all of two hours. The wake of which left the south bank of the ravine littered with bodies and the south wall of the fort half destroyed and the defending force was reduced once more by one third. When the smoke cleared a commotion was spreading through the military as Maynard’s sergeants spread white flags amongst them. There was very little argument as soldiers were ordered to stand down. Maynard surveyed the results of his order to surrender with a smile and the September sun dropped below the western horizon to hide the sorrow of a once peaceful people. He pressed the control button that started the electric motor to pull the portcullis up. In approximately ten minutes the south gate would be wide open to receive the Sittyan army. “Now we know who calls the shots, Mr. Captain of the Royal Guard.” He said with distaste. “This is going much smoother than I had hoped.” It was then he noticed the last of Jessie’s men slipping out of the back of the crowd of soldiers. “Where is he?” He demanded of the air. He made a quick search for Jessie in the nearest buildings. He ordered his sergeants to find the royal guard while he greeted the Sitts.
“Welcome to Bayfield, Captain Leiland.” Maynard said to the Sittyan commander when he marched through the gate. The two men shook hands.
“Impressive retaliation, Captain, I wasn’t sure for a moment you were going to hold up your end of the bargain.” Captain Leiland said.
“You’ll find everything in order, sir, with one small exception. The Royal Guard has decided to run away, but not to worry, we’ll arrest them soon enough.” Maynard assured. Just then one of his sergeants hurried up to him.
“Members of the Royal Guard are headed into the palace.” He reported.
“Tell the troops they’re traitors to the throne and arrest them.” Maynard ordered.
Cautiously they began to pound on the steel doors, which Jessie had slammed shut behind him. At the moment entry was gained a rifle barked and cracked again, partially sealing the doorway with dead and injured bodies.
For ten minutes or more the invaders waited. There was not sound and not light. Eventually they gathered the courage necessary to enter again. Like snails they crept in single file. There was no shooting as they proceeded. When fifty had entered they lit the first torch. As a second torch was lit, Jessie, who had concealed himself in shadow on a walkway over head, shot the bearer of the first. The echo sent many of the enemy soldiers to their knees and Jessie cursed to himself as he squeezed the trigger again to find the chamber empty. He abandoned the rifle and darted across the walkway, but his feet were seen in the hollow glow of the torch and the arrows began to fly. He slid nervously down the ladder and bolted down a long hallway, sweat beading on his brow. Jessie opened a door to his right and before entering and locking himself in he turned back to the enemy and emptied his semi-automatic pistol into their midst.
When the Sitts broke in the door they found the room completely empty.
They quickly and unsuccessfully rummaged through the room for an exit.
Chapter 12
Janice
When she came to she found herself bound securely to a stump and gagged. Her armour had been stripped off and thrown in a heap beside her. She assumed she had been out for some time because her clothes were dry and sunlight was seeping through the trees. Throbbing pains pulsated through her head and neck. She moved as much as possible, which wasn’t much, to see where she was. It was some sort of camp and it appeared to be empty. She listened only to hear birds, no breathing or voices of any kind. A few feet in front of her was a fire, or rather the smouldering ashes of an old fire. Her pounding heart increased the pain of her throbbing head. She searched, through squinted eyes, into the forest on the other side of the fire pit.
While she continued to struggle two figures approached from behind her.
“Looks like our sweetheart is awake.” One said to the other as they stepped up to Janice. She turned her head to look at her captors with a glare that said, “I’ll cut you both down the first chance I get.”
“Oh, look at those pretty green eyes.” The shorter of the two slobbered through the space his front teeth once occupied.
“Feisty, isn’t she?” The taller and better groomed one remarked. They both laughed.
“What’s your name little girl?” The taller one asked with a smile and his face nearly touching hers. Janice yelled inaudible threats through the gag.
“Oh, that’s okay, miss. We know who you are. Don’t we, Rudy?”
Rudy, evidently the shorter and slovenly one, nodded his head vigorously with his tongue nearly hanging out.
“She’s a princess of Bayfield.” Rudy exclaimed.
“Yes, yes she is.” The taller one said as he twirled a finger in her sandy blonde hair. “And a pretty princess at that.”
“What are we going to do with her, Troy?” Rudy asked anxiously. He had crept up on the other side of Janice and was smelling her hair. She recoiled from his proximity, but her bonds, once again, prevented total escape.
“What do you think we’re going to do with this precious beauty?” Troy responded with a tone that insinuated his companion an idiot. He had stood up and was looking down on them.
“I know what we should do with her.” Rudy said greedily with his eyes drooling all over her.
Troy cuffed Rudy’s ear.
“You idiot! We’re going to hold her ransom. One of the king’s beautiful daughters ought to fetch a fair sum.” He explained. “Imagine one of Bayfield’s princesses dropped right into our hands. Now we can repay Gerald for banishing us to Angis.” He smiled broadly. “Our luck is about to change, Rudy, my boy. Our luck is about to change.” Troy turned around and looked at the smouldering ashes. “We need wood for a fire.” He said to Rudy who was still drooling over his prisoner. Rudy looked up at Troy whose back was still to him and then he went off, kicking stones, looking for wood. Troy sat on a stump and began to draw and write, pensively in the dirt.
Rudy returned a short while later and began cutting the wood smaller. Troy paced, deep in thought, between the fire pit and the tent. Troy realized, eventually, he needed to feed Janice and give her water so he removed her gag. Immediately she began to scream for help. Troy and Rudy began to laugh heartily.
“Go ahead and scre
am, girl. There’s no one here, but us.” Rudy chortled. “Can I kiss her, Troy?”
“Rudy, she’s bait, not a toy.” Troy answered.
“But I’ve never kissed a girl before.” He complained.
“There’s probably a reason for that.” Troy said, brushing him off. “Now get away from her.” He ordered Rudy who had been playing with her hair.
All the while Janice squirmed and tested each of the many bonds.
Troy, confident in his ability to tie her down, disregarded her struggle and went about his business.
“So, here’s the plan. We take her deep into the swamp. We leave lit torches all the way so we can get out and Gerald can get in. We leave a ransom note for the no good king to pay us for the where abouts of his daughter. When he follows the torches into the swamp one of us will be waiting at the halfway point. The other will collect the ransom. Once he passes we will go out; snuffing the torches as we go.” Troy explained. Rudy only stared at him in horror.
“The swamp?” Rudy replied.
Janice’s eyes were also wide with horror. “There’s no way my father will fall for that! He’ll hunt you down and both of you will swing for this!” She warned.
“The swamp?” Rudy repeated.
“Oh, don’t be so sure of yourself, Sweetheart. You’d be surprised what blubbering weaklings, even the greatest of men, become, when the life of a loved one is at stake.” He said to Janice. “Yes, the swamp. And by one of us will wait there, I mean you.” He said to Rudy.
“My father is too smart for your simple plot. He’ll catch you in it before it’s even in motion.” Janice admonished.
“What about the monsters and terrible beasts?” Rudy demurred.
“Your father is a pompous ass!” Troy roared at Janice. “What are you talking about, Rudy? How many times have we been in the swamp and never seen any beasts?”