“But ten more minutes and the sea would have eaten them,” the Admiral cursed. “As it is, we must do that ourselves.”
At that moment, the Marin hit the shore and the rebels began to disembark.
“It is time,” the Admiral said to Alfonzo, who had just returned from battle on the plain. “It is time,” and he said no more.
Chapter 89
The rebel sailors poured over the sides of the Marin, fleeing to the ramparts. The Marins were set adrift and ablaze, destroyed lest they be used against their makers. The Admiral walked beside Alfonzo across the beach. They were silent until they reached the fortifications.
“The rain is against us,” Alfonzo said, “For the trenches are flooded.”
As he said, the tunnels in front of the ramparts were flooded, leaving the archers without a perch. The water washed against the foundation of the ramparts behind, undermining its strength. Yet the distance to the bay had lessened – the water had already risen ten feet in the flood – and the enemy had less of a foothold to assault from.
“Can we hold them?” the Admiral asked.
“Forever, no; as for how long, we will see. If we can slow their landing, the storm may be our ally. As it is, they will have trouble laying siege on the castle in this rain.”
“But a retreat, if only to the castle, will prepare the men for defeat. Your plans have been washed away,” and he looked into the sky. Gravity had struck the celestial ocean.
At that moment, Barnes came up. “Sir, the Marins are abandoned.”
“Well done, Barnes. Your first command is completed with honor,” said with affection.
“Thank you, sir. Where should I position the men?”
“That is not a question for me, but for the commander, Alfonzo. As for me, I retreat to the castle: my war is with Gylain, not his armies.”
“Then you fight only for revenge?” Alfonzo asked. “Victory for revenge trumps defeat in damnation.”
“Nevertheless, it is what I will have. What happiness is left for me in this life?”
“Your daughters; they would be slaves for you.”
The Admiral flexed his face. “No, I have had domestic happiness. It is damnation as well. If I must be damned, I will make myself worthy.” Turning to the castle, he added, “Send for me if he comes.”
“He will not,” Barnes ventured, “I know for sure that Gylain will not march with his men.”
“How?” and the Admiral struck out with broadsword eyes. But the young man was not cut.
“It was he who lead the assault on the chain: I saw him with my glass. He has Jonathan Montague and a dozen soldiers with him. They do not mean to rejoin the fleet, for they beached their boat and it will not sail again until the tides come.”
“He seeks me, as well,” the Admiral looked into the darkness. “I will follow him.”
“Alone?” Alfonzo cried, “Father, you cannot do this: without Willard, you are the rebellion.”
“Me? Fool of a man! Where have I been, these last fifteen years? I am myself a beached old man, dried and salted and hung in the galley. I may be Gylain’s enemy, Alfonzo, but you alone are freedom’s ally.”
“Will I go with you?”
“By no means! You are meant for Celestine, not for death!” The rain came down his cheek. “Still, I will not go alone; I may meet someone along the way. Farewell.”
With that, he turned to the forest and flew before the wind. Nor did he turn before he disappeared. The others watched him go, then Alfonzo roused them, “Come, there is much to be done.” He turned to the ramparts and passed through the small opening left unsealed. They were the last to pass through and behind them the enemy was already beginning to land. “Seal the gap!” as he went through.
“What of the Admiral?”
“He is lost to his revenge. Do not wait for a bitter man.”
“As you wish, sir,” and the guards did their duty.
At that moment, the Fardy brothers approached Alfonzo. The blond Fardy said, “Alfonzo, where are we needed? Say the word and we are there.”
“To the castle, friends,” was the quick reply.
“The castle! Then we would miss the battle, and our patience is weak in war.”
“To the castle,” Alfonzo firmly repeated. “With the trenches flooded there are more men than spaces here, while Milada is pressed to prepare the castle. For the deluge comes, of men and of water.”
“Then our patience will be proved – my brothers’ more than my own – and we will meet again in the castle. Until then, be safe,” and the three brothers set off for the castle, though where the dirt path had been a river now ran. They ran beside it.
Meanwhile, the rebel ships had become charred ruins at the bottom of the sea, and the ships broken by the chain no longer blocked the channel. The Atiltian, Hibernian fleet hurried into the harbor to save itself from the wrath of the storm, and while the forest made landing impossible, it also defeated the wind. Aboard the flagship, de Casanova and his king controlled the siege. The former stood at the bow, reading the situation with his telescope; the latter sat at his table beneath the canopy, reading the situation with his maps and charts.
“The ships are anchored,” de Casanova said.
“Excellent, begin the landing; but take only what you need for the ramparts. The castle sits at the bottom of a basin: if this downpour continues, we will have to float the troops down by flatboat.”
Soon the fleet stretched along the coast several ships deep. Because of its size, however, The Barber remained in the rear. De Casanova prepared to lead the invasion himself. As he went he spoke to his sovereign, without turning to face him.
“If I fall, do not be harsh to Lydia.”
With that, he signaled the trumpeters to begin the call and jumped across to the next ship. The fleet was huddled together so densely he could pass from one ship to another. In a moment he reached the shore, occupying the same ground the rebels had just deserted. It was a wasteland between the two forces. A mist went up as the rain came down. The land was left in haze; and though it was now one o’clock, the only sun was that which refracted off the storm. De Casanova took his place before the soldiers, who had already made ranks.
“We will charge them, men. We will not retreat.Charge!” and the trumpets sang.
The landing force was twenty thousand strong, standing rested and restless. The rebel ramparts were within fifty yards now, though the distance was covered by an inch of water and their passage slowed as a result. They pushed a siege weapon before them, a steel barrier that formed a triangle, the point facing the ramparts. With the rain decaying the foundations of the fortification, the siege weapon was meant to push the mud walls in and open them to the attackers. The mud slowed its advance; but, as de Casanova made his life doing difficult things, he forced it forward. The ranks extended parallel to the siege weapon on either side, angling backward to protect their flank. Arrows swarmed, but the rain slowed them. In a moment the onager struck the ramparts.
“De Casanova,” Alfonzo whispered as he watched the approaching armies. “If I were a man of revenge, this would be a time of celebration. As it is, I will fight for duty and nothing more.”
Lionel came along beside him. “You would fight without hating? I confess I am a youth, but still I have never seen a man kill one he loved. If not one, then the other.”
Alfonzo was silent, lost in the sea that fell about them. Then, “You are right, perhaps, but I cannot leave so great an enemy unchallenged.”
“It is not your hatred I condemn, but your denial. Either way, you need not think of that foul old man, for he is mine. His blood will be on my account, and justice done.”
“Many men, in war, make themselves the justice of the peace,” Alfonzo rebuked in turn. “But beware, for de Casanova has defeated justice more than once. He will give no mercy.”