“Sellswords maybe?” Vendurro asked.
Mulldoos shot the younger man a look. “You been kicked in the head by your horse recently? Nowhere near enough time to hire help of that kind. Telling you, Gurdinn’s just playing games here. He…”
Mulldoos trailed off as the torches and dark figures indicated more Brunesmen had formed up into another sizable square, thick with shields held above their heads and in the front line.
Both squares started forward as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon.
“Nahhhh, he ain’t plaguing doing it. Feint, nothing but a feint.” But Mulldoos didn’t sound entirely convinced.
The priestguard in the towers started shooting arrows. I couldn’t make them out really, but I heard the twang of the bowstrings, and then saw a few strike the ground in front of the Brunesmen.
The two squares suddenly surged forward, breaking into a trot as they rushed the wall. Once in range, the arrows started to come fast, but the initial barrage thunked into the shields held overhead.
Vendurro slapped the cold ground. “Plague me, but they’re doing it. Mad bastards are rushing the wall!”
If there had been more men on the walls with bows, they might have whittled the Brunesmen down quickly with a withering hail, but there only seemed to be a handful of bows shooting at them, and the locked shields did their job for the most part-only two soldiers were struck, neither fatally.
The two squares reached the wall and Brunesmen stepped out to throw torches. One was struck in the shoulder by an arrow and his torch fell harmlessly to the ground, but the other launched his up into the wooden tower as an arrow whizzed above his head and forced him to step back under cover of the shields. The squares parted a little, and the Brunesmen positioned ladders in the base of the dry moat as best they could and leaned them up against the wall. It didn’t look easy, but Henlester hadn’t thought to fill the dry moat with any kind of spikes or impediment, so it didn’t slow down the besiegers overmuch. A concentrated rain of arrows came fast and heavy, and a few more Brunesmen were hit, their armor sparing some the worst wounds, but still, men fell in the dry moat, some certainly never to rise again.
I found myself leaning forward to watch, and saw the others doing the same. Suddenly I heard a scream, and thought one of the Brunesmen dead or dying, but it was an archer on the wall. He had an arrow in his neck and toppled backwards, disappearing from view.
Gurdinn had brought some bows, and the archers were out there in the dark between the torchlit camp and the torchlit wall, loosing arrows with little risk of being hit themselves.
Mulldoos actually whooped. “He might be a plaguing horsecunt, Cap, and a fool besides, but he’s got guts! Got to give the bastard that.”
The torch that had been thrown up into the tower must have been stamped out or kicked back behind the wall, but the archers weren’t showing themselves as much, given that their silhouettes made them targets and arrows continued to plunk into the wood or ricochet off the stone every time they stood to take aim at the men scaling the walls.
Gurdinn’s men climbed the ladders, shields held above them with one arm to offer some protection from the archers above. Though the walls were shorter than those around a castle, they were constructed in similar fashion-there was a parapet for the priestguard to man the wall, though simple and wooden. Two of the priestguard flung one ladder back before a Brunesmen could get purchase, but when two more tried to throw off the other ladder, a priestguard was struck twice and dove or fell, and the other ducked, giving two of Gurdinn’s men time to climb over. The first was cut down as an axe struck him in the face, and he tumbled backwards into the dry moat, but the other held off two more priestguards long enough for more Brunesmen to gain purchase and start battling the priestguard on top of the wall.
Three more ladders went up, and while two more were knocked back, the third held long enough for more Brunesmen to rush over the top and take the wall. The priestguard fought hard, and several Brunesmen were thrown or knocked off the wall.
It was difficult to make out much except shadowy movements, and flashes of torchlight off bits of armor and weapons and the edge of shields. But the ring and clamor of battle carried loud enough that felt like it was taking place right in front of me.
Mulldoos was right. Gaining and holding the spots on the wall was proving costly. Even with Gurdinn’s archers in the dark shooting at what must have been close range and taking out some of the priestguard, I saw several Brunesmen fall, either wounded badly enough to be out of the fight or dead. And a fair number who had been near the tops of ladders when they were repulsed must have sustained grievous injuries as well hitting the stones or packed earth below.
Vendurro pointed to the opposite side of the compound. Fire suddenly bloomed in two of the wooden towers there.
Braylar nodded in appreciation. “He drew most of the defenders to the north wall with the showy assault. The priestguard didn’t have enough men to hold the entire perimeter, or they were undisciplined and left the southern stretch. Either way, a clever stratagem.”
The priestguard saw the flames as well, as several went running across the courtyard to put them out and fight off any invaders inside the compound.
I saw one fall, dropping his shield and clutching the arrow in his thigh. It looked to have been shot from somewhere near the fires.
“Very clever,” Braylar said. “Captain Honeycock has lost men, but it won’t prove nearly as costly as it should.”
The defenders fought for every inch of the north wall as they tried to repel Gurdinn’s soldiers-some more ladders were pushed away, some more Brunesmen were cut down or pinned with arrows, but Braylar was right. With their forces split between the walls, the priestguard were overwhelmed, their bodies thrown from the wall or littering the courtyard.
When the balance shifted, it tipped quickly. Several Brunesmen that had managed to secure a spot on the courtyard formed up in a half-ring, fending off the priestguard while one of their comrades unbarred the large wooden gate and let the remainder in.
Near the wooden tower closest to us, three Brunesmen raced up the stairs. The archer in the tower had been shooting at other Brunesmen coming through the gate and hadn’t seen those nearest him until it was too late. He dropped his bow and tried to draw his sword, but a spear took him in the throat before he got it out of the scabbard.
Another pair of the priestguard started falling back to the lodge itself, shields and swords still up, as four Brunesmen advanced on them. I couldn’t tell if the Brunesmen ordered them to surrender or not, but if they did, the priest’s soldiers ignored them.
Two of Gurdinn’s men in the center kept the priestguard occupied, swords flashing, shields blocking the blows, but the other two quickly flanked the priest’s soldiers and cut them down, hammered them from all angles until the swords found a spot not protected by mail and pummeled or shattered the bones and flesh underneath. The four Brunesmen moved off quickly in a group, attacking another knot of the priest’s soldiers from the rear who were trying to retreat from the wall.
Several of Henlester’s men ran for the entrance to the lodge, but Gurdinn’s men cut them off. Looking around, and seeing themselves badly outnumbered, they started throwing their shields and weapons in the dirt.
I thought with their blood up, the Brunesmen might not be in the prisoner-taking mood. Gaining the courtyard hadn’t been easy, even with the diversion, and they’d seen several of their own wounded or cut down. But Brune’s soldiers were disciplined enough not to murder unarmed men. Or feared punishment from Gurdinn. Or more likely the Baron himself. Either way, they kicked weapons away, ordered Henlester’s soldiers on their knees, and bound their arms behind their backs.