Anvil of God

by J. Boyce Gleason

  He put his fingers to her lips, but she shook her head, insistent. “I have been so selfish. I am … so humbled by your love.” Tears fell from her eyes, and her voice became a whisper. “To have come to me after so many years, and to have it cost so much—” She shook her head, desperate to gain control over her emotions. “I love you so.”

  She saw in him a flicker of emotion, but it was no more than that. A shout from a thousand voices came from outside the city, and instinctively Heden moved toward the door. Sunni threw herself at him, hugging him to her chest.

  “Come back to me,” she said.

  Heden hesitated and then left without a word.

  ***

  Heden looked up at the sky. The sun was high, and the ramparts were flooded with Franks. So was the breach. Heden had made several attempts to retake the wall, only to be frustrated by the Franks’ sheer numbers. If he didn’t do something soon, the day would be lost. He would need to give his soldiers more time.

  His eyes searched for a solution. It would have to be quick. He raced down the scaffolding to the ground where he found Gripho leading what was left of the reserves to reinforce the shield wall in the breach.

  “Come with me,” Heden said.

  Gripho’s eyes gleamed back at him.

  “We’re going to make another sortie with the cavalry,” Heden said.

  “It won’t work,” Gripho said. “Didn’t you see Carloman bring up his cavalry?”

  “There is a way,” Heden said. “We’ll do it in stages. I’ll lead the first sortie to cut off their attack on the breach and to pull down the ladders. Carloman will send his cavalry in to cut off my retreat—”

  “You want me to lead a second sortie to cut off his cavalry,” Gripho said appreciatively. “It’ll be a pincer movement between us.”

  Heden smiled. “You’ll make a good commander someday.”

  They assembled the cavalry, and Heden split them into two groups. There weren’t as many as he had hoped, but it would have to do. At his signal, horns blared, and the gate began to open. Heden led his Thuringians into the field.

  ***

  Although the cost of the battle had been high—much higher than it should have been—Carloman knew this attack would succeed. The tide of the battle had turned. Once the ramparts had been taken, it was only a matter of time before his soldiers would overwhelm those defending the breach.

  The Thuringian had been a noteworthy opponent. He had prepared the city well and had executed a flawless strategy. It was the sheer size of Carloman’s force that had won the day. Many would have been unwilling to take such losses. But Carloman knew this day would be remembered long throughout the kingdom. Few would doubt his willingness to win again.

  He heard a horn and turned his head to the wall. The gate was opening. It was a cavalry charge. Heden is not that stupid, thought Carloman. He must be desperate. Carloman turned to Drogo while signaling to the cavalry. “It’s time, Drogo.”

  “Time?”

  “I told you the battle would tell us when it’s time to join the fight. The time is now. Get your horse.”

  Father and son descended from the siege wall to mount their warhorses and take their places at the front of the cavalry line. With horns blaring, they entered the field.

  ***

  Heden went for the ladders first. As long as they stood, there was little chance to stop the attack on the breach. The cavalry chopped its way through to the ladders and then pulled them down with grappling hooks. Cheers rose from the ramparts, where renewed counterattacks began to take shape.

  Heden wanted to be far enough away from the wall to tempt Carloman into cutting off their retreat. That meant clearing out the walls first and attacking the main body second. As soon as the ladders were down, he signaled to his men to regroup and turned on Carloman’s main force.

  They cut a bloody swath across the back of Carloman’s attack on the breach. The foot soldiers were no match against his cavalry. With the battle lust in them, Carloman’s soldiers could think of little more than reaching the breach. They didn’t expect to defend their rear. Heden waded into them, creating havoc at the back of their line.

  The cavalry blades fell again and again, forcing Carloman’s army to turn and fight. In the ensuing confusion, a counter attack at the breach pushed the Franks back out through the gauntlet and out on to the river of rock.

  With one eye on Carloman’s advancing cavalry, Heden kept his line of men together and savagely slaughtered dozens of foot soldiers. Heden looked up. Carloman was leading the cavalry. Drogo was with him. It took everything in Heden not to react to the advancing cavalry. Take the bait, he willed. Take the bait!

  Carloman’s cavalry thundered toward the gate and swept past it to cut off Heden’s retreat. Heden was euphoric. Now we will see what price is too high! He waved the signal cloth he and Gripho had agreed upon and turned his cavalry to face Carloman with swords already well stained by Frankish blood.

  In the distance, behind Carloman, Heden could see Gripho and his cavalry assembled outside the closed gate. But they did not move. Gripho sat in his saddle with his hand up, holding his men in abeyance. With a sinking heart, Heden knew that there would be no second cavalry sortie.

  ***

  With two of his most trusted servants, the Compte de Laon made his way through the tunnels underneath the city to his storeroom. They moved away the large boxes that covered the secured doorway and drew back the huge iron latches that protected the door from the inside. Once free, the door swung inward, and the three descended the stairs to the treasure room.

  Booty from battles over a century past lay next to buckets filled with solidi and denarii. Gold and silver chalices, plates, knives, and candlesticks lay in chests beside stacks of armor and a row of shields and swords.

  The Compte and his servants focused on the buckets of gold and silver coins. They moved these down a flight of stairs to a landing with a small door. Made of hard wood and iron and imbedded in stone, it was secured by a lock that held the latch in place. The Compte produced a key, freed the latch, and struggled with his two servants to open the door. It swung inward with a high-pitched groan.

  A head covered with soot poked through the door from its other side. The Compte let out a shout.

  “Thank you,” said the smiling face, turning up to them. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you opened this door.” He scrambled through the aperture. The Compte’s servants helped him up and then pinned him against the wall.

  “My good Compte de Laon,” the man said, the smile never leaving his face. “My Lord Pippin sends his regards and bids you join him and your daughter for a spot of ale, just outside the city.”

  “Do you jest?” the Compte said.

  “Have you any idea how long I’ve been stuck in that tunnel?” the man asked. “I could use a spot of ale myself.”

  With a nod to his servants, the Compte and his men followed Arnot back through the tunnel, taking as much of the treasure as they could carry.

  ***

  Heden had split the cavalry by nationality, taking the Thuringians into the field with him and leaving the Neustrians to Gripho. A fatal error, thought Gripho, a smile creeping onto his face. He stood in the gate with soldiers loyal to his mother, holding up his arm casually to keep them in place. Horses pranced around him anxiously. The men looked to him, confused.

  “Hold,” Gripho said, keeping his voice confident. “Not yet.”

  Heden’s strategy had worked. Carloman had taken the bait and swept past the city gate to cut Heden off, leaving himself exposed to a counter attack from the rear. The gates had opened on Heden’s signal just as the two had planned, only Gripho had not charged. He fully intended to take the field, but only after Carloman had exhausted his men dispensing with the arrogant Thuringian. Once Heden was dead, Gripho would attack his half-brother’s exposed rear and push Carloman into a forced retreat. The day would end with the city intact, Carloman forced from the field, and the Franks’ ar
my reduced to half strength. Gripho would offer to parlay in the morning to negotiate a settlement. The siege would end with his right to succession intact.

  “Milord!” Jean-Claude, one of Gripho’s captains, pushed into the line next to him. “Milord, the Thuringian is vulnerable! We must enter the field.”

  “I said, hold,” Gripho growled.

  “We can save them,” Jean-Claude said. “We must attack.”

  Gripho saw the rest of his men nodding in assent. They knew the moment was at hand. He reached for his knife.

  “I give the commands here.”

  “But, my lord, they will be slaughtered.”

  Gripho’s arm slashed in an arc across his body. His knife sank easily into the soft throat of his captain, the only unarmored spot within reach. Gripho enjoyed seeing the surprise on Jean-Claude’s face as the man realized his death was so near. He attempted a lunge at Gripho but merely fell off his horse. Jean-Claude lay on the ground face down, drowning in his own blood.

  “Anyone else wish to challenge my command?” Gripho asked. The men shifted in their saddles, but none spoke.

  Gripho’s eyes returned to the battlefield searching for Heden. Gripho found him charging the center of Carloman’s line. Clearly, Heden had realized his jeopardy and was attempting to get to Carloman before the strength of his opponent’s larger cavalry took its toll. A desperate strategy to be sure, but it could never work. By the time he reached Carloman, Heden would be exhausted. Carloman would best him without effort.

  Unless … a second thought crept into Gripho’s mind. It was far more sinister and had perhaps a better chance of success.

  Maybe he’s going after Drogo.

  ***

  Heden used battle flags to signal his men for a third time, hoping they recognized his latest order. He pushed his mount forward, accelerating the speed of the charge to catch Carloman’s troops before they could effectively form a line.

  He waded into the Franks, his Thuringians behind him. They approached in a ragged formation, hoping to engage Carloman’s knights in hand-to-hand combat.

  Heden used his shield to absorb the first blows, awaiting an opening to drive home the point of his blade. He caught his first opponent just below the armpit. His second fell after Heden severed the man’s arm.

  Carloman, however, proved to be no fool. He formed the bulk of his cavalry into a line and charged the Thuringian position in formation. As they closed, Heden wheeled his horse and waved his sword frantically.

  “Retreat! Retreat!” he shouted. The Thuringians needed no further prompting. They disengaged and charged after Heden. A cheer went up among the Franks as they watched their enemies flee before them.

  ***

  A nervous thrill surged through Drogo as the cavalry clashed with the Thuringians. He was in the front line, near the Thuringian point of attack. Everything moved so quickly. Shields clashed, swords fell, blood and viscera filled the air. He was appalled and transfixed by the sight. Unsure of what to do, he mirrored the knights to his left, who checked their mounts.

  “Hold!” one of them called. “Form a line.”

  Drogo took his position, pike forward, and waited for the order.

  “Charge!”

  They closed on the ragged line, and Drogo felt the shock of his pike hitting the shield of an enemy soldier. The force knocked the spear from his hand. He pulled his mount back to draw his sword. In a blur, the Thuringian was on him, and Drogo barely fended off the first blow with his shield. Pain shot up his arm. Looking up into the face of his attacker, Drogo saw the wild eyes of a madman. Fear lanced through him. How could he defeat such fury? The man swung his sword again, and again Drogo blocked it. He tried to thrust his sword, but he was too hesitant, too slow. His enemy brushed it aside and began to rain blow after blow onto Drogo’s shield. Drogo cringed behind it, afraid to leave the man an opening.

  “Retreat! Retreat!” a voice called, and the man before him turned to flee the field.

  Even Drogo knew what it implied. Victory, his mind sang. Elation surged through him. Many of the Knights in Christ surged to the kill. Heels sank deep into the flanks of their horses as the battle lust took them. A blood-curdling cry sprang from Drogo’s throat, and he spurred forward with the Franks, brandishing his sword in anticipation. They would be the killers, not the prey.

  Drogo heard his father shout for order but knew it would be hopeless. The Siren’s song of slaughter had taken his knights. The first of the Franks chased down the stragglers, butchering them before they could turn. The rest raced forward in hungry expectation. Several knights passed Drogo on faster horses, and he whipped his mount to gain speed. They closed on the backs of the Thuringians, who rode desperately away from them. Victory, thought Drogo. Victory!

  The Thuringians turned.

  Those farthest from the Franks were the first to wheel in the face of the oncoming charge. As each of the Thuringians reached the new line, they too, wheeled in turn. Within moments, the Franks faced an organized cavalry line. With their forward ranks so spread, they would have little chance to form one of their own. It happened so fast, thought Drogo. It could only have been planned. As a maneuver, the tactic was a thing of beauty.

  He wished, however, that he wasn’t in the forward ranks.

  ***

  Heden ordered the charge. His Thuringians advanced with a wall of pikes that slammed into the ragged forward Frankish line. His men swept through a third of Carloman’s cavalry like a wave, leaving few alive behind them. Only small pockets of Frankish knights in the first line survived, having recognized their peril and formed themselves into squares. The ploy was a defensive one that would only work if the rest of Carloman’s cavalry could advance far enough and fast enough to save them.

  Drogo was in one of the squares, off on Heden’s left flank. They used their pikes to fend off enemy horses and their swords to fight close in. Several of Heden’s knights peeled off the line to attack. Heden pushed forward with the main body of his line.

  Carloman had regrouped what was left of his cavalry into three stout lines and ordered a charge of his own. The two cavalries converged. Horses slammed into horses, and shields clashed with shields. Pikes skewered horses and knights alike. The Thuringians fought ferociously, but Carloman’s greater numbers still worked against them. Heden looked again to the city gate, in desperate hope that Gripho would come. The Neustrians still did not move.

  Heden knew that if he didn’t do something soon, the battle would be lost. He signaled to the ragged line of knights near him, and together they wheeled away from the main body to find Drogo’s square.

  ***

  As a commander, Carloman watched the battle unfold dispassionately. He noted Gripho’s Neustrians at the gate and wondered at their refusal to help the Thuringians. Tactically, it made no sense as it put the bulk of the defender’s army at risk. Despite this, Heden had proved resourceful, using a feigned retreat to seduce Carloman’s forward line into giving chase. The result had been predictable. Discipline on the battlefield was essential. You lose your discipline, you lose your life.

  Carloman also was pleased that most of his cavalry had not lost their self-control. They still blocked Heden’s way back to the city and still had the greater numbers. It was only a matter of time before they won the day.

  As a father, however, Carloman’s heart quailed at the sight of his son being duped into a reckless charge. He had sent Johann after the boy. The blond knight had been smart enough to realize their jeopardy and to corral a number of knights into a defensive square. That would buy some time for the main force to advance. Carloman worried, however, that it wouldn’t be enough.

  He threw his warhorse into the fray, intent on challenging the Thuringian himself. He chopped his way through to the right flank, taking his second line with him, hoping for an opening that would take him to Heden. He was surprised to see Heden wheel and take a number of men with him. It took little thought to divine where he was heading. Carloman spurred hi
s horse in pursuit.

  “To me!” he screamed. “To me!” He didn’t wait to see if anyone heard.

  ***

  Gripho frowned. Heden was good. He took comfort in the fact that Carloman had greater numbers. He didn’t see how the Thuringian could win.

  “Milord, please!” a call was shouted from back in the ranks.

  “Silence!” Gripho commanded.

  “They’re being slaughtered!”

  “Hold your positions!” Gripho shouted.

  He heard movement behind him. Someone was trying to break ranks. Gripho turned to intercept, but too late. A lone horseman sprinted toward the battle.

  “I said, hold!” Gripho barked.

  On his right, a second horseman broke ranks, and then a third. Gripho turned to face the men and drew his sword.

  Two knights on his cavalry’s left flank bolted for the battle. Those behind them bolted as well. Soon, the whole flank streamed out of the gate toward the Frankish rear. The right flank was next. Then even the soldiers nearest him wheeled left and right to circumvent his horse. The Neustrians had joined the battle. Gripho was left standing in the gate alone.

  He had only one course of action left. He spurred his horse and joined the fray.

  ***

  Although Johann’s square was behind the Thuringian cavalry line, Carloman’s position on the right flank put him physically closer to Drogo than Heden. His only disadvantage was that he would have to fight his way there, and Heden would not. The surprise of his charge, however, had caught much of the Thuringian cavalry off-guard. There still was a chance that he could reach Drogo first.

  Carloman knew that his mad dash to save his son was a military blunder. It introduced an element of risk where none was necessary to win the battle. The howling in his heart, however, made it imperative that Carloman charge. He had to save his son. He slashed his way through Heden’s left flank, cutting a path to Drogo’s position. His eyes never lost sight of the Thuringian’s progress toward the square. It will be close, he thought, trying to push back his panic.