The Alchemist's Revenge

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by Martin Archer


  “The buggers started too soon,” Henry muttered to no one in particular. “They should have waited until our bowstrings were wet.”

  I could tell from the way he said it that he thought we were about to be in serious trouble. I certainly did.

  “Henry, take one of the horses in the enclosure and gallop through the enclosure openings to Prince Ivan and the states’ men. Tell them to sally immediately for double the usual coins, and then come back along the wall giving whatever orders you think are necessary.”

  My recently un-retired lieutenant commander repeated his orders whilst he was running down the stone steps to get to his waiting horse. There were horses up on the wall he could have boarded faster, but I knew he would make much better time going through the narrow openings in the interior walls since everyone was now up on the wall.

  A minute later I gave my apprentice sergeant, Nicholas Greenway, the very same orders. Why? Because it was always wise to send at least two messengers when a battle message was of vital importance. And the one I was sending certainly was important.

  What I hoped, of course, was that a sally by the states’ men into the Greek camp when the Greek army was nearby would encourage some of them to hurriedly return to defend their tents and women. It was not likely, but it was all I could think to do.

  And then it struck that I had made a mistake by waiting too long—I should have ordered the states’ men to sally while the Greeks were still waiting in their formations.

  ****** Commander George Courtenay

  My men and I watched in fascination as the huge mass of the Greek army surged forward and began streaming through their encampment towards us. The rain was still only scattered drops and all around me the archers were holding their bows close to their tunics in an effort to keep their strings dry. They were good men, but would a few good men be enough against so many?

  As the Greeks coming through their camp got closer we could see that many of them were indeed carrying long ladders. They clearly intended to cross the moat on the new installed footbridges and scale the wall using the long ladders.

  There were many tens of thousands of screaming and shouting men running towards us and, at first, there were none of the usual stragglers or runners when an army moves forward in an attack, at least none that we could see. It was as if each man had been given a sense of safety and certain victory by having so many of his mates packed around him.

  Perhaps, the thought came to me as I watched them, it was for the Patriarch and their priests were running with them to make sure they knew that God was watching them and would protect them. Whatever the reason, the Greek movement through their camp to get to the wall was quite impressive both for its size and for the distance it would have to cover. It looked like a tide of men sweeping into through a tidal flat that was full of tents, wagons, and cheering camp followers.

  It also appeared to be a well thought out attack in the sense that the Greeks carrying the ladders knew where to run because they could see the wagons from which the bridges had been pushed. They had been left as markers. I was sure of it. That was worrisome. It meant someone over there was not entirely incompetent.

  The first of the arrows from the men around me began being pushed towards the Greeks coming towards the wagon bridges just before they came into range. A moment later the Greek thrusters weaving their way through the camps tents and wagons were clearly reachable and our arrows began filling the sky like the great flock of birds I had once seen when I was a lad.

  More and more Greeks began to go down as they came hurrying towards the moat. But there were so many of them charging towards us that those who fell or turned aside were the equivalent of a few drops in a bowl of ale.

  All around me I could hear the grunts as they archers pushed out arrow after arrow at the Greeks charging towards us. It became instantly apparent that the Greeks were organized according to the ladders they were carrying and the bridges they were trying to cross.

  In essence, each of the long ladders was acting as a unifying force in the sense that six or seven unarmed men were helping to carry each of the ladders with the sixty or seventy Greek soldiers who had been assigned to climb it running along close behind it. The men assigned to carry and climb each ladder were, in a sense, a ladder company, and there seemed to be at least a dozen of them coming through their camp towards each of the newly installed footbridges. At least that was what it looked like from where I was standing.

  As they got closer we could see that the Greeks running behind the ladder carriers were carrying various weapons. Some were running towards us with swords in their hands, but most of them, to my surprise, were carrying spears and shields. We could also see priests trotting alongside the ladder carriers and encouraging them as the ladders weaved their way towards us through the tents, wagons, and camp followers of the attackers’ closely packed encampment.

  I was not the only one surprised to see the Greeks carrying spears and shields. An out-of-breath Henry had just returned from ordering the states’ forces to launch a sally and noticed them a well.

  “It is going to be interesting to watch those buggers try to climb a long ladder with a shield in one hand and a spear in the other.”

  There was no question about what the Greeks were trying to do. They were attacking on a broad front in an all-out attack to get over the city’s outer defensive wall and take out most of the city’s defenders before we could fall back to the inner defensive wall.

  There was soon so much noise and shouting from the approaching Greeks that I could barely think about what else I might do to get the men ready to receive them. Even so, several things became instantly obvious. For one, most of the attacking Greeks were going to get through our arrow storm and reach the moat with their ladders. For another, there seemed to be quite a number of ladders heading for each of the wagon bridges.

  We had every available archer on the wall. The problem was that their pushing of arrows into the Greeks below us would not be occurring as rapidly as it normally would have been because our bowstrings were getting wet and would have to be constantly changed—until we ran out of them.

  Our reality was quickly becoming clear. No matter how good a half-company of thirty or forty archers might be, and that is what we had in front of each of the wagon bridges along with ten or fifteen auxiliaries, there was no possible way they could stop many hundreds of attackers, especially if they all came up their ladders at the same time. We would be overrun.

  And there were so many Greeks coming at us that the possibility we would run out of arrows as well as bowstrings came out of nowhere and suddenly became a concern behind my eyes. We had bales and bales of arrows laid out all along the top of the outer wall. But did we have enough if the bowstrings lasted?

  “Concentrate your arrows on the men around the wagons and pick your man. Do not push unless you are sure of a hit.”

  Sergeants heard the order and began repeating it. It quickly spread along the wall from sergeant to sergeant. The rate of pushing fell around me, but only very briefly. And the Greeks who fell were mostly those who were closest to the wagons and the moat. It was then that the rain began in earnest and the men began changing their bowstrings.

  ******

  Things went well for the Greeks until they reached the wagons next to the moat which marked the location of each footbridge. Then everything became confused and things began to fall apart for them.

  It turned out to be quite difficult for five or six excited men to carry a long scaling ladder across a wet and slippery slab of wood that was only a couple of feet wide. What made it almost impossible was that thirty of forty of the world’s finest archers were standing on the wall above them, and they were, quite rightly, particularly concentrating their arrows on the Greeks who were trying to come across on the narrow foot bridge.

  What I could see from where I was standing turned out to be a good example of what was happening all along the city’s outer wall.

  I looked do
wn from the wall where I was standing and watched as the first of the ladder carriers reached the moat below me and began trying to carry their ladder across a wagon bridge that was about one hundred paces west of where I was standing.

  The man at the very front of the ladder was trying to feel his way slowly and cautiously across the narrow bridge on the wet wood; the men behind him, however, were pushing in their desperation to quickly get over the bridge and next to the wall so they could set their ladder and run away to safety.

  It did not work for them. The first man started to go down on one knee and his foot slipped—so the first of the arrows intended for him took the second man in the chest and they both fell into the water whilst still desperately trying to hold on to the ladder. That overbalanced the other men holding on to the ladder and a couple of them also fell in the water. The only survivors ended up being the last two men who were still standing on land and the ladder-climbers for that ladder who were massed immediately behind them.

  The clouds opened and rain became to come down as the place of the fallen ladder was taken by another ladder from amongst the many ladders waiting nearby to come across despite the casualties being put on them by the archers.

  Less than a minute later the second ladder followed the first into the water and the number of arrows biting into the men waiting to across the narrow bridge slackened noticeably as the archers began hastily restringing their longbows with dry bowstrings.

  Although I did not know it, similar events were occurring all up and down the moat. The result were a great masses of Greek men, often a thousand or more, waiting to cross at almost every wagon bridge one at a time while archers on the wall above them placed their arrows where they would do the most good. Greek casualties began piling up and some of the Greeks began pulling back.

  And, because I did not yet know that the Greeks’ attempt to use the bridges were having the same problems everywhere along the wall, I damn near panicked and did not know what to do when, one right after another, two messengers arrived. The first was a messenger arrived from Eric saying that the city was rising against the Empress in our rear. He wanted me to send archers to reinforce his men.

  My response was negative.

  “We are under attack. Try to hold the Latin Quarter and fall back on the Citadel if necessary. We will come as soon as we can but it may be many hours.”

  The second message was from Richard with news that was much more alarming—a Venetian fleet had been sighted approaching the harbour where our galleys were anchored and pulled ashore without their archers on board to defend them.

  It was raining few minutes later and already a third ladder, and then a fourth had failed to get across. But then our arrows stopped being delivered because all of our bowstrings were wet and the Greeks fifth attempt to get a ladder across the moat was successful.

  A few moments later, as a sixth ladder was coming across, two more messengers from Richard came in one right after the other. Both reported the arrival of a large number of Venetian galleys and that heavy fighting was about to begin at the harbour—and Richard said he and Harold desperately needed reinforcements, and quickly.

  That was when I finally realized something important and gave what appeared to be, at that moment, the necessary orders.

  “All Evens to the harbour. Double time.” … “All Evens to the harbour. Double time.”

  Of course I sent reinforcements to the harbour and not to the city. The Company could survive and continue to collect the tolls even if the city was destroyed; it would not survive if we lost all our galleys and could not get away.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Trouble beckons.

  Captain Smith shouted his order loudly so it could be heard above the noise of the fighting going on all along the wall on either side of us.

  “COMPANY ATTENTION,” the captain roared. “Evens, one minute to get yourselves ready and then follow Lieutenant Eden with your quivers full. Evens with pikes, swords, and shields are to carry them.”

  My mates and I knew exactly what the order meant—it meant the men in our company who were “Evens” were about to double-time to the harbour to reinforce the archers and sailors who were already there. And we all knew exactly where we were going, and why. We knew because we had already heard the same order and made practice runs all the way to the harbour four times in the past couple of weeks. In any event, we quickly gathered up our weapons and unused arrows, formed up in a column of twos, and off we went with Lieutenant Evans leading the way.

  There was a lot of talking as we were forming up. Every one of us was very excited—and damn pleased to be ordered away from the Greek buggers who were trying to get across the moat so they could get at us. A couple of men had been hit early on by crossbow bolts and carried away to the hospital galley at the harbour. One was dead for sure, a Welshman named Jones who was one of our best archers. But now, at least, we were safe because the Greeks’ crossbows were no long useful due to the rain fouling their strings—just like our longbows.

  I was an “even” and had to go wherever Lieutenant Eden led us because every man who made his mark on the Company’s roll was given a permanent number that was his forever. I was number 5018 which meant 5017 men had made their marks on the Company’s roll before I made mine. My mate, Albert, said that made me an “even” because my Company number ended in eight.

  Albert may have been right; but it did not matter. The sergeant said I was an even and had to follow Lieutenant Eden. That was fine with me, especially since it meant I could say goodbye to crossbow bolts and them buggers what was trying to climb up the wall on ladders and kill us.

  Less than a minute later the lieutenant waved his hand in a circle over his head and shouted “FORWARD” as he pointed, Sergeant Everly swore at us and began calling the step, and we were off and moving at the double. It happened just as we had been practicing.

  We were not the only ones on the move. Already the men who were “Evens” from the company to the north of us were hurrying along the top of the wall towards us with their funny-looking lieutenant leading them, the one who had one eye looking someplace else whilst the other looked at you. They would follow us all the way to the harbour and, as sure as God made green apples, they would try to run fast in order to get past us to make us look bad.

  Marching at the double in the rain got old in a hurry. Even so, I was glad we had been ordered to the harbour, and so was everyone else. Of course we were—our bowstrings were wet and the damn Greeks were once again trying to get some of their ladders across their little walkway in the moat below us. I must have hit half a dozen or more of the bastards myself before my last bowstring got stretched too far from the rain.

  My mates and I were worried because most of us, including me, would only have our longbows to use as weapons when we got to the harbour—and they were temporarily useless because we were out of dry bowstrings. We did not know whether we would be issued pikes or swords and shields when we got there, but we surely hoped so.

  We were not at all sure it would happen, us being issuing more weapons; we never had been issued any when we marched there when we were practicing, probably because we had never practiced when it was raining and our bowstrings were wet.

  Some of the men were talking as we double-timed along the top of the wall instead of saving their breath. They said we would be issued our galley’s short swords and shields when we got there, whilst others claimed we were just going back to board our galleys and that we would soon be rowing for Cyprus because there were too many Greeks to fight.

  Leaving the fighting behind and sailing for Cyprus sounded like a fine idea to me, but somehow I doubted we would be going back, at least not yet. I did not say anything, though; it is too hard to talk and breathe at the same time after you have been double-timing for a while.

  My best mates, Albert and Guy, were not with me. They were “Odds” and had to stay behind to help Captain Smith fight off the Greek buggers what was trying to take the w
all.

  Someone said Commander Courtenay himself was watching us when we started out, but the last thing I saw as we started jogging towards the harbour was the top of a ladder peeking over the wall and Captain Smith going after it with a pike.

  ******

  As we double-timed in the warm rain to the harbour, we every so often came past the “Odds” archers of the other galley companies who were continuing to man the wall in front of each foot bridge. Several times we were able to gobble with them when we were held up for a moment or two by auxiliaries and archers moving rocks and stones that could be dropped on the ladder climbers. They shouted out to us the latest news and rumours traveling along the wall as they were passed from one man to the next.

  Some of the men we came upon were getting ready to fight with the ladder-climbing Greeks coming across the moat, and some lucky buggers were just standing around doing nothing. One thing was certain—every man who spoke with us complained in one way or another that his longbow was useless due to the rain. Mostly the lads just held up their bows and shook their heads in disgust as we came past them.

  What we also heard from the men we jogged past, and those we met coming in the other direction, on the other hand, was both very encouraging and very discouraging, if any of it was actually true instead of just being more of the many tall tales that were being passed along the wall by men who enjoyed making up stories.

  The good word we both heard and saw was that some of the Greek foot bridges had broken or fallen in the moat instead of providing a way to cross it, and also that some of the bridges had been abandoned in the face of our mates’ arrows; the bad word was that the Greeks were now across the footbridges in a number of places and trying to climb their ladders to get to us. There was also an unverified report that some of the Greeks had been able to climb up their ladders and fight their way on to the wall in several places further to the north towards where the states’ men were camped.

 

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