The water began to flow down, running at an angle until it splashed into the river… fifty feet to each side of the ships. The flames started to die down anyway. “They are quenching the blaze by commands alone!” Mama cried. “Well, we’ll just have to see about that,” Saul said, grinning, and recited,
The fire billowed higher. For a split second, Saul saw a face in the flames, a familiar face whose eyes widened in amazement as it recognized Saul, then it was gone. The Witch Doctor cried out, then muttered to himself, “No, can’t be! He’s not a magus!”
The Moors seemed to have forgotten that the ships weren’t going to take them back, they churned into a shouting mob, pouring bucketful after bucketful onto the wharfside ships. Saul grinned and chanted,
The ships exploded into flame, and the Moors staggered back with cries of distress, certainly never noticing that more and more of their mates lay dead on the fringe of the crowd with crossbow bolts in their chests “That’s not just a few outraged citizens, Gilbert,” Saul said, frowning “I think we have some unexpected allies “
“Yes, but can we afford allies we do not know?” Gilbert asked nervously. “I know what you mean,” Saul said grimly. “I’ve had people pitch into a fight to help me out, but I wouldn’t have wanted to know them if I hadn’t been distracted at the time.” Then he noticed that the ship fires were starting to gutter. “I think you can let the rain come down now, Lady Mantrell. The ships have burned down to the water-line.”
Mama dropped her hands, trembling with relief, and gasped for air. “That was a heavy burden indeed!”
“Heavy, but very effective,” Saul assured her. “I just hope we like the guy who started those fires.” He frowned. “Can’t be who I think it is.”
A moan swept the Moorish ranks as they saw that their transportation was charcoal. They began to mill about, and the sound rising from their ranks was angry. “Here we go.” Saul tensed. “Payback time.”
A howl of rage went up, and the mob surged toward the boulevard. “They’ve found the dead bodies.”
Saul said, leaning on a crenel to look, every muscle tense. “They’re chasing somebody!”
Shouting, the mob streamed into the boulevard, most of them on foot. The few horsemen couldn’t make much headway among all the infantry. Light gleamed off scimitars and spears, but the Moorish footmen could only come twelve abreast in the boulevard, and the whole front rank suddenly fell with crossbow bolts in their chests. The second rank tripped over them and went sprawling, then the third rank and the fourth. The mob stalled, milling and trying to sort themselves out with angry cries at one another.
A black horse burst from an alleyway and galloped uphill. A score of dark-clad men burst from the alleys and ran after it.
The Moors howled and scrambled over their fallen comrades. The second-rankers struggled frantically to their feet. Finally the whole mob was charging again.
By that time, though, the black horse was almost to the gates. The dark-clad rider waved and shouted.
The officer on the wall shouted back, raising his arm.
“It is him!” Saul cried.
“Who?” Mama demanded.
The gates groaned open, and the rider reined in, dancing his horse to the side of the road. His sword flashed in the light of the fires as his men streamed past him.
The mob saw the open gate and belled like hounds sighting a fox. They actually crowded aside to let a few riders pass, and half a dozen horsemen charged uphill. Arrows flashed, but fell short of the dark-clad men.
On the wall, the officer shouted and swung his arm down. Catapults snapped, and fireballs arced through the air.
The Moorish horsemen shouted and pulled up sharply. The fireballs crashed into the street before them, breaking apart into shards of blazing tow. The Moors hurdled them, rode between them, and charged uphill again. The footmen streamed after.
The officer on the wall bawled again, raising his arm and chopping down. A flight of arrows sprang out, arcing toward the Moors. They saw in time and tried to back away, but the men pushing behind them prevented retreat, and half a dozen fell. So did two horsemen; the others bellowed in rage and charged at full gallop, hanging their bows on saddle hooks and drawing scimitars.
The last of the dark-clad men ran through the gate, and the huge portals began to swing shut. The officer shouted and chopped with his arm again. Another flight of arrows sprang out. The Moors reined in, cursing, and the arrows fell short. They waited for the rest of their army to catch up… and another flight of arrows shot up. The Moors retreated beyond bowshot, but the dark-clad men scrambled up to the wall and loosed a hail of crossbow bolts. Two more Moorish horsemen fell; the others retreated farther, commanding the mob to halt. Reluctantly, they did, milling about, shaking their fists at the defenders, and cursing in Arabic and Berber.
The black horse trotted up toward the castle, two knights of the guard escorting him.
“Now we will learn who our unexpected ally is,” Mama said. “Can he really be the one who burned the ships?”
“Only if he knows about Greek fire,” Saul answered.
“I have heard of it,” Sir Gilbert said, “and if he is a knight, he may have, too. He may even know the making of it. He could be our firestarter, Lady Mantrell.”
“How?” Saul challenged. “The line of fire came from the breakwater, not the docks.”
“He is mounted,” Sir Gilbert said. “He could have set the flames, then ridden to join his men in the alleyways.”
A cry of delight went up from the gatehouse, and the soldiers cheered as the black horse came riding into the bailey… a black horse with a knight in black armor.
Saul stared. “It is him!”
“Who?” Mama demanded. “May not I know him, when even your soldiers seem to?”
“They do indeed,” Gilbert said, grinning from ear to ear. “Heaven be praised! I need no longer command this garrison! But how he knew of our plight I cannot guess.”
“He knows everything that goes on in Europe, especially if it’s dangerous,” Saul said. Then, as the rider came trotting up below them, he told Mama, “Let’s go downstairs… I want to introduce you. This is Sir Guy Toutarien, the Black Knight, and one of your son’s strongest allies.” He started down the stairs, calling, “Hail, Sir Guy! Come on and meet the family!”
The Pyrenees loomed high in front of the army by the time Doman caught up with them. One sentry ran ahead to tell the queen of his coming; two others escorted him in.
“Well done, faithful servant!” she said, and the soldier glowed with praise from his sovereign. She asked, “Was your passage dangerous?”