by P J Berman
Gasbron bolted after her. With luck, they could lose their pursuers in the woods.
Chapter 19
‘So where is Jezna?’ Silrith asked the following morning as the glimmering sun peered over the horizon. She was seated at the main table in Yathrud’s meeting room, wearing her battle gear and eating an officer’s breakfast ration of mutton, bread and water. Ezrina and Gasbron, still dressed as they had been for their overnight mission, stood before her to be debriefed.
‘She was taken, your Grace. I tried to reach her but I couldn’t.’
Silrith surveyed Ezrina carefully. There was none of the cold arrogance in her face that Silrith had observed previously; just fear and pain.
‘Was she taken alive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her giving away any information. The only things she’d be able to tell the enemy are things they’ll already know. Is Jostan dead?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ Silrith pressed, emphasising her frustrated tone.
‘The Dowager Queen and her unborn child are dead,’ Ezrina said defensively. ‘Jostan is wounded. They were together. We were forced to attack them both.’
Silrith got up from her chair, scrutinizing Ezrina, with Gasbron standing by silently.
‘Together, were they? And what were they doing together? No, you need not say it. I can guess,’ Silrith said, raising a hand as Ezrina opened her mouth to speak.
There was a momentary pause.
‘The rumour is that the child is Jostan’s, not your father’s,’ Ezrina said slowly.
The thought of Accutina betraying her father made Silrith’s blood turn to fire, but she held it back, stone-faced.
‘I am aware of the rumour, but I will not discuss it with you,’ Silrith said, maintaining a level tone. ‘What I want to know, is why one of my assassins is now a prisoner of the enemy. How did you end up gaining access to both Jostan and Accutina if they were in each other’s company so late at night? I very much doubt that a pair of servant girls would be allowed into their quarters at that time unless they had been sent for. So do you know what I think? I think that you spotted an opportunity to kill them both. Despite the fact that I made it explicitly clear the Accutina was only a secondary target to be attacked once Jostan is dead, you ignored my orders and prioritised her assassination over his. You spread your efforts too thinly and jeopardised your chances of killing Jostan and completing your mission in accordance with the parameters I described to you.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘You’re lying to me Ezrina. Am I going to have to send spies to watch over my own agents from now on? You may think me stupid, but that has been your mistake. Do not disobey me again.’
‘I’m sorry, your Grace.’
‘Good. Now get out.’
Ezrina bowed her head and headed for the door, but just as she opened it, she turned back momentarily.
‘Your Grace. I beg for the chance to go back into the enemy camp to save my sister.’
‘No. If she lives, you may be reunited with her after the siege, but the chances are she is dead because of your refusal to follow orders. Don’t throw your life away stupidly. Now go.’
A thunderous expression etched itself across Ezrina’s face, but she said nothing. Silrith watched her as she made a show of bowing her head. Then Ezrina turned, opened the door and left. The guard who had been waiting outside reached in and clicked the door shut, leaving Silrith and Gasbron alone in the room. Silrith took to her seat again and continued with her meal. Gasbron had turned to watch Ezrina leave but now turned back to Silrith.
‘Don’t say a thing,’ Silrith said, pointing a figure at him, noticing the confused look he was giving her. She rolled her eyes when his expression didn’t change.
‘Fine, you may speak.’
‘Do I have permission to speak my mind, my Queen?’
‘On the condition that you stop calling me ‘my Queen’, in private. I would not let you speak freely if you weren’t my friend, so you can dispense with the formalities. Take a seat. ’ She smiled at him; her mood lightening. He pulled out the chair opposite hers and made himself comfortable.
‘Now, you were looking at me in a very particular way,’ said Silrith. ‘You don’t think I was too harsh with her do you?’
‘Well…’
‘Gasbron, please tell me what you really feel. I want to know.’
‘Maybe you could have been a little more understanding. She’s clearly very worried about her sister.’
Silrith nodded, closing her eyes briefly.
‘Yes. You’re probably right,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t intend to sound cold and unfeeling, but it is hard to avoid that when you have to look strong. The people look to me for strength and I must make them feel it. Such is my task as their Queen. But whilst I am their Queen, I am also human and more specifically a woman who wants to protect what remains of her family, as well as her friends.’
She looked him straight in the eye as she said the last word. She put down her food, pushed back her chair and walked over to stand next to him.
‘When I called you my friend just now, I meant it. I want us to be friends, Gasbron. You have saved my life more than once and that must be rewarded, so I say again, I want no formalities between us in private. I know that it breaks with convention, but to the underworld with it! I’d rather you just called me Silrith when we are alone.’
‘It would be an honour to call you my friend, Silrith,’ Gasbron said, looking completely blown away with pride by the sudden breakthrough in their relationship. But then, maybe he’d felt it too, but just hadn’t thought that Silrith felt the same.
‘Excellent! We’ll be brother and sister in arms, you and I!’
He laughed. Silrith clasped her hands together with glee, then almost hugged him, but hesitated, then instantly regretted not breaking with the usual convention a little more. Now the moment had passed and it would be awkward. But then, was that desire in his eyes? Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she swatted it from her confused mind. Such things were scandal.
‘On reflection, I think you were right,’ she said, deliberately diverting both of their attentions. ‘I was too harsh on Ezrina. But there was a reason for my anger. I had thought to use her services again, if she had been successful, but now I don’t trust her, or at least, I am unsure of her reliability. You know her better than I. What do you think of her?’
‘I think her words were influenced by her worries. She’s single-minded and emotional, but also ambitious. That much I’m sure of so far.’
‘Ambitious yes, but what is her ambition? That is the question,’ Silrith pondered.
‘I believe her priority is to get her sister back to the citadel safely.’
‘I agree that that is her main priority at this point, but I believe there’s more. I suppose it’s only natural that someone of her race would be more interested in the long term good of the Hentani than my right to be Queen of Bennvika, but it must be made clear to her and to all that the two are inexorably intertwined.’
‘Yes,’ said Gasbron. ‘And I believe what you say is supported by what she was found to be carrying when we returned. I’m not surprised she didn’t mention it. She seemed reluctant to let it go when I told her it should be left in your care. Guards!’ As soon as Gasbron called, two armed men entered, one carrying a shining object.
‘The Amulet of Hazgorata?’ Silrith was surprised to see it. ‘You’re right. This fits precisely with my earlier thoughts. She must believe the myth that it gives protection to the nation of whoever bears it; something Ezrina clearly feels that the Hentani need at this time.’
‘She claims to be bringing it back for the benefit of the whole city.’
‘Yes and whether that’s true or not, many will believe it to be so and therefore she can’t be punished. I want you to keep up your association with her, so that she can be properly watched.’
‘Of course, my
Queen.’
‘What interests me is why it’s been brought this far south in the first place. Did she say anything about that?’
‘She did. She said that, as we know, the enemy’s original target was the Hentani, pre-empting an uprising from them, before they found out about you being here. She claims Jostan’s plan had been to plant the Amulet somewhere in a Hentani village where their soldiers would find it when the place was burnt, so that they could claim that the Hentani had stolen it from Bennvika. I can’t see it working myself, but apparently, it’s an approach that has been feared for some time in the Hentani lands. Maybe Chief Hojorak had a spy at court when Jostan took your throne?’
‘Perhaps he did. The Hentani are certainly right to fear the political power of such an approach. It wouldn’t take much. Jostan could just claim to have found it there and then when addressing his troops, he could hold it up, telling them of how some special unit infiltrated the enemy village to steal it back. The thought of the theft of such a sacred jewel would get their blood up and ready them to rain untold fury on their victims. The risk is that he may now try to do that here. We must hope that, without the Amulet to hold up before them, his approach may be somewhat less powerful now. More importantly, both their troops and ours will be aware that the fact that we now hold the Amulet shows the Gods’ true allegiance, if you believe the myth, at least.’ At that moment there was a hurried knock at the door.
‘Enter,’ said Silrith and another soldier entered the room.
‘My Queen, the enemy is preparing for another assault.’
‘Thank you. Gasbron, let us go and prepare the troops.’
By the time Silrith was standing on the crowded citadel walls, amid the clamour of battle horns calling all her troops to their positions, the enemy were ready to advance. She could now see the results of the hammering that had come from the enemy camp that night. Siege towers. Six hulking, domineering, looming siege towers. How had they built these so quickly? It mattered little. Either way, they were here and ranged against her. From her high position she watched as the enemy units began to move in unison to the beating of their drums, like the various parts of a living creature.
Dum da-dum, dum da-dum, dum da-dum, dum da-dum
This time they advanced with the Divisios massed in the middle in an orderly sea of white shields and emerald capes. On the wings were the rag-tag militia and Jostan’s Defroni allies.
Once they were in position, they stopped as the drumbeat ceased, out of range of any defensive arrow shots. The sound of heaving soldiers from behind the centre of the enemy line gave away an extra presence. It seemed the siege towers were not the only thing Jostan’s troops had been building the previous night. From a distance it looked like little more than a large box on wheels, but the defenders knew it was altogether more menacing than that. A ram.
Silrith looked at Gasbron, who had changed into his Invicturion’s uniform.
‘Siege engines? How? So soon?’ she said.
‘Maybe they started before they arrived here. Maybe they’d got all the materials they need from the forest by the time the girls and I were in there last night. With an army like that, he’s got a big enough workforce to cut down as much wood as he needs and build anything he wants. Bloody tiring though.’
‘Jostan clearly has no worries about exhausting his own troops,’ Silrith said. ‘But it’ll only affect a fraction of his overall numbers though and I expect those troops will be kept in reserve, with fresh soldiers to carry out the attack.’
Suddenly she had an idea and picked out a militiaman who was close by.
‘You! Take a few comrades and bring up buckets of oil, burning tar and some torches. And have others bring up fire pots. Take them to the troops on the other walls too. Quickly!’
The fire pots would be a lethal defensive weapon; hollow balls with bodies of thin iron and clay, filled with naphtha, which could be lit and would explode with terrible force when thrown at the enemy. As the man jumped to it, Silrith turned back and watched as the ram lumbered to the front of the enemy line. An enormous log was suspended inside it, tipped with a considerably hefty metal head, shaped like an arrow.
A wooden roof, Silrith thought, surprised. What’s he at?
She had expected to see it covered in wet animal hide, which would give some protection to the Divisiomen inside against incendiary weapons. But then, on Silrith’s orders, all animals from the surrounding farms had been brought inside the city before the enemy’s arrival. Jostan would have to use the animals in his own camp, of which he may have only had a small number. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to kill too many of his animals too early in case it was a long siege, requiring a lot of food to sustain such a sizable army? Either way, she resisted the temptation to believe that Jostan had simply made an error. She knew that she should always assume her enemy had thought of something that she hadn’t.
She turned to Gasbron.
‘We must be ready in case the ram penetrates our gates. I need you down in the walled courtyard. I will lead our troops here on the ramparts. I want you to go down there and form up Divisio One, dismounted, along with as many of the militia and the Hentani you can fit down there in support. I need you to be ready to defend the area if they break through. You know what we had planned in case they brought a ram. It’s time to put it to the test. ’
‘Yes, my Queen.’
In a moment, he was gone, followed by those members of Divisio One who had been on the ramparts, leaving Silrith with a still tightly packed group of militiamen, archers, Hentani and troops from lesser Divisios standing with her on the walls.
There was a low bugle note from down below and the drumbeat struck up again.
Dum da-dum, dum da-dum, dum da-dum, dum da-dum
Slowly the ram and the siege towers lumbered forward with troops crowded around them, keeping to their slow pace. The wheels squeaked rhythmically. The Divisios advanced in silence, but the effect was overrun by the hordes of militia infantry, some of whom she could now see were bringing ladders forward, and the screaming and chanting of the Defroni warriors massing around the siege towers. Further back, in reserve, almost disappearing behind the dust cloud were the mounted Divisios, as well as the cavalry of Jostan’s militia.
Finally there was another sounding of the bugle and the majority of the army halted, while the ram continued moving forward of the other units, followed by first two, then four, then all six of the siege towers which advanced in pairs as the Defroni continued to chant, roar and jeer at Silrith’s defenders, clearly waiting for the order to attack. The only units that continued to march onward with the siege engines were two large groups of Bennvikan archers, presumably there to give cover to the ram and the towers once the defenders started to fire.
At the same time, some of Silrith’s own militiamen returned to the walls with flaming torches and buckets; some filled with oil, others filled with tar. Each one was placed by the wall just in front of the archers so that they could dip their arrows in the liquid. The torches were handed out among the other soldiers so that each archer had a makeshift torchbearer next to them, ready to light their weapon.
‘Wait for my mark,’ Silrith instructed once each archer was ready to fire, trying to ignore the intense heat being emitted by the close concentration of torches, though it was not yet time to light the arrows, though each had been dipped in oil.
‘Halt!’ came the audible command from an officer down below. The enemy archers stopped and began arming their bows.
‘Now!’ Silrith bellowed and the air was full of the sound of firing bows as a barrage of shafts rained down on the ram and across at the foremost towers. Their wooden targets were peppered with arrows as they advanced. Silrith hoped they had got enough oil on to them.
‘Launch fire arrows!’ Silrith commanded and each archer on the walls now lit their next shaft and fired them at the approaching towers and the ram in an almost beautiful barrage of flame.
In response, the enemy arche
rs loosed their shafts up at the defenders and the infantry behind them screamed their war cries, as a single note on a bugle ordered them forward defiantly into the hail of death.
‘Shoot at the siege engines! Shoot at the siege engines!’ Silrith called, willing them to catch alight, urging her troops not to get distracted by the ladders coming at them, though they also had to be stopped. Looking down at the oncoming infantry as they charged forward from the flanks, racing clear of the still stationary Divisiomen, streaming around the towers, she could see that it was now the Defroni warriors that led the charge and who were first on to the ladders as they arced up towards the walls. As a warrior started to climb the nearest ladder, Silrith picked up a fire pot, lit it and hurled it over the edge, hitting the man square on the head and engulfing him and all around him in a ball of fire.
Seeing this, others followed suit and all below turned to a burning hell; men and women screaming as their flesh burned while they were pushed ever forward by the masses behind. Still, some began to make it on to the ladders and up the walls, towards the ramparts and the defenders’ burning ammunition was running low.
Through it all, the archers still concentrated their fire on the siege engines, but eventually, the ram and foremost towers came into the range of a fire pot throw and the searing hail of flame intensified. Now the nearest siege tower was burning in places but still it advanced; looming large no more than thirty meters away, with two more behind as they began to splay out either side of it. Suddenly an especially large fire pot hurtled out in a graceful arc from somewhere on the ramparts, bursting into flame as it struck the already burning siege tower. That was all it took. The explosion engulfed the tower’s head in flame to audible screams from those inside. A cheer erupted from the troops on the ramparts all around and Silrith found herself cheering too, but she knew there would be more.
The second siege tower had been close behind the first and had to pull sharply to Silrith’s left to get around it, exposing its vulnerable broadside.
‘Keep firing!’ Silrith bellowed through the barrage on the second tower had already intensified. She took up a fire pot as the tower attempted to turn again to face them and she hurled it with all her might. She could hardly have missed. The tower’s size, the close range and its slow, clumsy movement as they tried to move around the obstacle presented by their immobilised comrades presented her with a massive target. The firepot exploded with awe-inspiring power and the tower rocked as it was struck by two more pots following in the wake of Silrith’s. The soldiers inside screamed as the top half of the tower was consumed by searing flame.