Chapter 3

Talabot, Lynese

William crouched in the dark, his eyes fixed on the walls of the city in the distance, trying not to let the cold that was seeping deep into his bones distract him. The defenders were doing a good job of moving along the wall, making it seem as if the city was still fully manned. It was the smart thing to do.

When they’d received word of a Sidorian advance on Valemonde, they had to respond, and they had to do it with enough force to ensure their capital did not get overrun. It was their whole purpose for being in Talabot in the first place. The sally, however, had left the city in the bad position of defending itself in case it was a trick, but responding to the Sidorian advance in case it wasn’t.

Of course, Sir Alistair’s maneuver toward Valemonde was, in fact, a feint, and William had discussed the situation at length with Baron Pembroke to come up with the plan to take Talabot. They had opted to give Sir Alistair a small contingent of infantry and knights, and had sent the bulk of the knights as a screen to hunt down every single Lynesian scout they could find.

It left William very light in the scouting department, but for the ruse to work, they had to convince the enemy the threat was real and prevent them from seeing that nearly all of the Sidorian infantry, critical for taking a walled city, was elsewhere.

And it seemed to be working. The few scouts that William had shadow the Lynesian force that had sallied out from Talabot two days previous, had confirmed that they were still on the move toward Sir Alistair, moving slowly and cautiously. Unless Pembroke’s information was wrong, and William doubted it was, the numbers that had marched out left the city very weakly defended.

Taking a walled city, even with that difference in manpower, was a dangerous prospect, and William had tried to stack the odds, as much as possible, in his favor. This was why he was hiding in the dark, waiting for an hour after the guard changeover when possible reinforcements would be half asleep and the night shift would be just getting into their nightly routine, with distractions of men-at-arms checking and evaluating their people and supplies being brought up. He’d had men watching the city for days, even before Sir Alistair marched out, to get their schedules down.

“Are your men ready?” William whispered to Sir Drummond, who’d come crawling forward to join him.

“As they’ll ever be.”

“Don’t press too hard. Make sure they’re paying attention and rely on your archers. Don’t waste men if you don’t have to.”

“I understand, Your Highness. I’ll keep them busy.”

“Good. Get going. We will give you ten minutes for your attack and then launch ours. Keep the pressure up until then.”

Drummond nodded and then moved away, heading back to his command. William wished he could have two of the stalwart knights. With Pembroke protecting their base and Sir Alistair with the bait forces, William was left with scant options for leading the diversionary force and the reinforcements, which had most of the knights, who wouldn’t accept men-at-arms such as Commanders Haverhill or Baldwin at their front. That left William with only Sir Cedrick and Sir Drummond to lead the two forces. Cedrick was a good man, but he was more lax in combat than William liked, more focused on personal glory than ensuring his men achieved their goals.

Which would not do for the diversionary force or the main body. In the end, he’d assigned Drummond to the diversionary force and taken the main body himself, a detail he had not discussed with Pembroke ahead of time, knowing the overprotective baron would have done everything he could to prevent William from leading the main assault on the walls.

Drummond’s diversionary force began their assault right on schedule. It wasn’t hard to see with the fiery arrows starting to set some sections of the wall to the left of the gatehouse on fire.

William counted. He needed the enemy to be engaged and pulling men on duty from other sections of the wall and the reinforcements not yet rallied fully from the city when he attacked. It was precise timing, which is why he wanted to lead the main element. He had to stay far enough back from the wall that the enemy wouldn’t see his men, which meant that William couldn’t see the men on the wall either, to know when they were pulled off.

But he’d spent a lot of time with the city guard in Starhaven. Serwyn had gotten the fancy tutors and weapons masters for his training while William had to rely on city guards for his weapon training. Thankfully, they’d taken to him, and in between learning proper personal combat tactics and sword techniques, William listened to them talk. They complained about rotation schedules, about lax soldiers, about who was late to guard changes, and just about anything else that upset their day. William would never say he was an expert in what it took to guard a city from the wall, but he had a feeling for it. For how long it would take them to respond to an attack, to call up reinforcements, and to begin moving additional units to the point of an assault.

No city could afford to keep all of its walls highly manned, even without sending out most of their forces to engage an enemy that was five days’ ride to the south. They would end up with more guards to feed than they could afford. It was a balancing act, where small numbers of guards were trained to hold a section of wall while the rest rallied to wherever the point of assault was the heaviest. This training would remain true even on reduced forces, except the reduced force would have to shift more men and leave a smaller force to hold the wall.

Or so he’d understood.

“Now!” he whispered harshly to the men closest to him as he felt the moment arrive. “Ladders up, hooks out. We take the walls.”

Without hesitation, the Sidorians sprang into action. The foot soldiers, and all of the men William had with him were foot soldiers, formed into sections, each lined up behind a ladder. At William’s command, they began running forward, as quickly as they could.

It didn’t take long for the men on the wall to notice them. They were on alert after all, what with the assault already in progress. It’s why William had been forced to hold his men so far away.

Shouts came down to them from above, followed quickly by arrows. Even though they’d seen his men, they were still mostly running for the wall in darkness, and there were too few archers, since the bulk had been sent to counter Sir Drummond’s assault. Men fell here and there, but not enough to change the tide of the assault.

When a ladder fell, the men behind picked it up and continued on. It took less than three minutes for his men to reach the wall. It could have happened faster, but not with the men in full armor, or at least not without them being too exhausted to fight when they got there. It was fast enough, and didn’t give the enemy much time to respond, but it still felt like an eternity before the first ladder slapped against stone, the metal hooks snapping down and digging into the stone walls, holding them in place.

The defenders tried to unlatch the hooks and push the ladders down, but there were too few of them and William had dozens of ladders going up across this section of the wall.

Arrows whistled down and spears stabbed over the ledge as his men began to make their way up the ladders.

“Up!” William shouted, pushing men toward the closest ladder. “Don’t stop! Keep moving.”

About five men had started their ascent when the defenders above managed to get the hooks out and push one of the ladders back, sending it, and the attackers, crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and metal.

Men grabbed the ladder and pushed it back in place, but hesitated. They were good boys, but it was hard watching your friends die and then continue charging forward in their place.

“With me!” William yelled, stepping onto the ladder, sword in hand, as he started to climb.

That jolted his men out of their stupor, as they surged forward to follow him up the ladder. As before, an enemy soldier leaned over the wall, stabbing down with a spear, trying to dislodge him as he neared the top. William batted the weapon away with his sword and then countered, lunging up high and stabbing the attacker through the center of his visor. The man’s body toppled over the parapet, sailing past William and toward the men on the ground below.

Two ladders down, the enemy lifted a cauldron of some kind and turned it over, pouring hot oil down onto the men on the ladder. The oil sizzled against their armor, drawing agonized screams from those it touched.

William ignored it. The only thing he could do for his men was to get to the top and push his men to join him. Another defender reached over the side of the wall, but William was faster, stabbing him in the shoulder, his sword finding purchase between chest plate and pauldron. Not deep, it was hard to have leverage in a situation like this, but deep enough to send the man reeling back.

And then William was up and over the wall. A small part of his brain told him he was the first up, but he ignored it. Two men were coming up a stairway right next to where his ladder was anchored, carrying another pot of oil, almost certainly destined for the ladder he’d just ascended. William kicked out at the surprised man in front, sending him and the pot of oil tumbling over backward, back down the stairs.

William could hear screams of horror as the men and their deadly payload fell on their friends, but he ignored them. All around him, men tried to repulse the invader in their midst.

His sword flashed out, stabbing one man in the thigh and sending him stumbling backward before blocking an overhand attack with an axe that seemed to be meant to cleave him in two.

And then he wasn’t alone any longer, as another soldier and then another came up the ladder behind him. As William fought, more of his men made it up their ladders, the enemy just too few in number to stop the assault.

“Push forward! Clear the ladders!” William yelled as he parried another man’s thrust before countering, taking the man in the side and sending his body toppling over the edge of the walkway at the top of the wall.

The worst thing his men could do was cluster at the ladders. They needed to push forward to make room for more of his men to join them on the walkway, so they could get enough there to overpower the defenders and push them off the wall. For several minutes, they were in a precarious position with less than a dozen men on top of the wall, outnumbered and fighting to maintain a foothold.

But his men did well. They pushed in both directions, clearing the wall, and some even began fighting down the stairs, to prevent an enemy rally, allowing more and more of his men to make it to the top safely. The trickle of men became a flood, as the men coming up no longer had to fight their way up the ladder and could just climb up.

William stayed on the wall, directing his men as they cleared the top, sending in reinforcements where needed. Part of him still wanted to be in the front, leading as his Uncle Gavric had done, but this wasn’t the moment for that. Standing where he was, at the moment, he could see the wall and the gatehouse, and had a clear view of the battlefield.

He was sending the bulk of his men down the stairs, to push along the base of the wall.

“Take those men and secure the guardhouse!” he said to Commander Haverhill, who’d just come over the wall. “Get the gate up.”

Haverhill nodded and began yelling for the footmen to follow him, pushing behind the soldiers who were already headed down the stairs nearest William. The tempo of the battle was slowing and William saw groups of enemy soldiers running for the center of town. It was the smart thing for them to do, since they’d already lost the wall. For William, it was a problem.

If they could regroup in the city center, it would be like starting the fight all over again, this time without the benefit of surprise.