Part 17 (1/2)
The sentries recovered and shouted, chopping at the raiders-but their blows fell short as they pulled back, frightened by the wild men from the darkness.
Then a huge explosion blasted the night. The shock wave bowled men over, raider and soldier alike. ”Cover your heads!” Gar shouted, but the raiders had run far enough; the rain of iron fragments fell short of them. Soldiers cried out in pain and shock, but before they could recover, the raiders were up and running again.
Gar led them off into the darkness, circling around to the beach again. All pretense at stealth gone, they struck down any soldier who rose to bar their way, then finally leaped back aboard their boats and shoved off-but only two boats out of three.
A hundred yards out to sea, Gar called a rest. The men leaned on their oars, gasping for breath and staring back at the fire on sh.o.r.e, amazed.
”So much for the cannon,” Gar said. He looked down at the unconscious form at his feet. ”Now for the gunner.”
Gianni was sitting on a dock post, watching dawn over the sea, when Gar came up and joined him. ”You fought well this night, Gianni.”
”Thank you,” Gianni said, gratified at the praise. ”What of the gunner? Did he answer your questions?”
”Yes, and without the slightest hesitation,” Gar said. ”It's almost as though he thinks his answers will frighten us as badly as his gun did.”
Gianni frowned. ”Did they?”
”Not a bit; they're just as I thought they would be. He's a young knight who's very progressive. He does admit that they have only one such gun, and only he knew how to aim it, being the only gentleman who was willing to learn his gunnery from the dour and dowdy foreign traders-the Lurgans, of course. They not only taught him to shoot, but also taught his armorers how to make a cannon that could fire so accurately-but it took their smiths three months to make it, and two were killed testing earlier models,. so I don't think we need to worry about the lords making more.”
”Not considering how quickly we destroyed it,” Gianni agreed, ”though I doubt we could do it again.”
”You may doubt it, but the lords don't. Still, our raid may discourage them from making more. If they do, though, they'll guard them better.”
Gianni glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. ”And you'll be thinking up better ways to overcome their guards?”
Gar answered with the ghost of a smile. ”Of course.”
Gianni relaxed, letting himself feel confident again. He turned to see another s.h.i.+p come sailing in, and was delighted not to hear a cannon boom. ”So it seems we won't starve, after all.”
”No,” Gar agreed, ”we won't starve-but the lords may.”
L.
They didn't, of course--each lord was supplied by the crops and livestock his soldiers stole from the peasants nearby, most of whom were safe in Pirogia. But they had to ranger farther and farther afield each day, and the idle soldiers who stayed in camp began to quarrel among themselves. The prince set them to making s.h.i.+ps, but his s.h.i.+pwrights knew only the crafting of riverboats, and the new vessels were scarcely launched before Pirogia's caravels swooped down to scuttle them, or to bear them away with all their troops. Still the prince forced his soldiers to build, but more and more, they saw the uselessness of their work, and grumbled more and more loudly. Soon they were being flogged daily, and the grumbling lessened-but became all the more bitter for it.
In fact, morale in the besiegers' camp was lessening so nicely, and any attempt at invading seemed so far away, that the defenders began to relax. In vain did Gar warn them that the old moon was dying, that the dark of the moon would soon be upon them, and that they must be extraordinarily vigilant when the nights were so dark-in vain, because the sentries knew that if they could not see to spy out the enemy, neither could invaders see to attack. So, though they tried to stay alert, that little edge was gone, the edge that makes a man start at shadows and hear menace in every night bird's call-but that also makes him look more closely at every extra pool of darkness in the night. They relaxed just a little, until the night that the cry went up from the walls, and the alarm sounded.
Gar and Gianni bolted from their beds-it was a lieutenant's watch-and shouted for lights as they caught up swords and bucklers and ran for the docks. Black-clad men were pouring in from the sea; even the heads of their spears and halberds were painted black, even their faces. By the time Gianni and his men reached them, they were streaming into the plaza, and there was no sign of the Pirogian sentries.
They had served their city well by crying out before they died. Gianni shouted, ”Revenge! Revenge for our sentries!” and threw himself into the middle of the advancing mob, sword slas.h.i.+ng and thrusting. Finally the attackers shouted in alarm and anger; pole-arms swept down, but Gianni was too close for any blade to strike him, leaping in and out, shouting in rage, thrusting with his sword as Gar had taught him. Behind him, his men blared their battle cry and struck the invaders, alternating between stabbing and striking with the b.u.t.ts of their spears, quarterstaff style-again, as Gar had taught them. Men screamed and died on both sides, but still the attackers came on.
There seemed no end to them; the black-clad men kept coming and coming, and Gianni's arms grew heavy with thrusting and parrying. But there was no end to the Pirogian soldiers, either, and they were fighting for their homes and their loved ones, not just for pay or fear of an officer.
Light flared with a m.u.f.fled explosion; the fighters froze for a moment, all eyes turned to the sourceand saw flames billowing high into the night.
”The caravel!” Gianni screamed. ”Anselmo's Kestrel, that was tied up at harbor!
They have burned our food, they would starve us! Have at them! Hurl them into their own fire!”
His men answered with a shout of rage and surged forward. Gianni sailed before them, borne on their tide, thrusting and slas.h.i.+ng with renewed vigor, pressing the attackers back, back, out of the plaza and onto the docks, then back even farther, off the wood and into the water.
The lords' soldiers cried out in fear and turned to flee into the harbor. Gianni froze, scarcely able to believe his eyes. The invaders were standing out there on the water, helping those who swam to climb to their feet! More amazing still, they seemed to be going without moving their legs, drifting away ...
Drifting! Now Gianni knew what to look for-and sure enough, the light of the burning s.h.i.+p showed him the balks of timber beneath the soldiers' feet. They had come on rafts, simple rafts but huge ones, painted black. They had hidden against the darkness of the water itself, and guided themselves by the city's blotting out of the stars until they could see the lights of the watch fires!
”Archers!” Gianni shouted. ”Stand ready! If they seek to come back, let fly!”
But the archers didn't wait-they sent flight after flight against the men on the rafts, who fell to the wood with shouts of fear or cries of pain. Some knelt on each raft and began to paddle furiously. Slowly, the c.u.mbersome craft moved away from the docks.
Gar came panting up, blood running from cuts on his cheeks and brow and staining the fabric of sleeves and tights. ”Where have you been?” Gianni snapped, then saw the man's wounds and was instantly sorry. ”Your pardon . . .”
”Given,” Gar panted, ”and gladly. It was not only here that they came ash.o.r.e, but at every dock and water stair all around the island. I suspected it the instant I heard the alarm and ordered troops to every such site. Then I led my marines from one outbreak of clamor to another. We have run long, Gianni, but we have pushed the lords' men back into the sea.”
”It was well done,” Gianni said, eyes wide. ”You are wounded, Gar!”
”Nothing but cuts,” the giant told him, ”and you have a few yourself.”
”Do I really?” Gianni touched his cheek and was amazed to see the hand come away bloodied.
Gar looked him up and down quickly. ”Again, nothing of any danger, but we shall have to see the physician to be sure. I fear many of our men came off much worse-and many more of the enemy.”
”Yes . . .” Gianni's gaze strayed to a black-clothed heap near them. ”The poor slaves ... How did they ever think of a ruse so simple, yet so subtle?”
”They didn't,” Gar said, lips pressed thin. ”This is not the sort of thing that would occur to a Taliponese n.o.bleman raised on tales of chivalry and battle glamour.
Test that man's tunic, Gianni. Try to tear it.”
Puzzled, Gianni knelt by the corpse and yanked at the fabric. It gave not at all.
”Silk?” he asked, amazed. ”For thousands of warriors?”
”Not silk.” Gar handed down his dagger. ”Cut it.” Gianni tried. He tried hard, even sawed at it. Finally, he looked up at Gar in amazement. ”What is this stuff?”
”The mark of the Lurgan traders,” Gar told him, ”and if you tested that black face paint he wears, you would find it to be no simple lampblack and tallow, but something far more exotic. The Lurgans told the lords how to plan this raid, Gianni, and gave them the materials to make it work.”
Gianni stared up, appalled. ”Are they war advisers now?”
”Apparently so,” Gar said darkly. ”We knew they recognized Pirogia as a threat, didn't we?”
And yourself, Gianni thought, staring up at the grim, craggy face-but he most definitely didn't say it.
From that time on, the sentries stayed alert again, staring twice at every shadow- but needlessly, as it turned out. There were no more night raids, for Pirogian caravels patrolled the channel between the city and the mainland. The grumbling in the lords' camp grew ever worse, and morale ever lower, according to the reports from the spies there. The Pirogians welcomed each new caravel that brought them food, and toasted its sailors with the wine from its casks. Gar, of course, grew more and more tense, more and more hollow-eyed, stalking the battlements muttering to himself. Finally, Gianni asked him why, and Gar answered, ”Things are going too well.”
Very well, indeed, for the people of Pirogia. Even better, courier boats brought word from other cities, and caravels took arms to them-but they were all port cities, and none lacked for food. They were having more difficulty defending their walls, since only Pirogia had a natural moat to protect it-but none of the inland lords had so very big an army by himself, and all his allies were sitting and fuming outside the walls of their own merchant towns, or with the prince at Pirogia. Gar sent cannons and crossbows and advice, and watched the stew boiling in the prince's camp with a grin.
They also seemed to lack knowledge of sanitation, these inland soldiers who had never lived in groups of more than a hundred with no less than a mile between villages. It wasn't long before the offsh.o.r.e wind bore their stench to Pirogia, and the soldiers the Pirogians captured in their endless sinking of new vessels told tales of dysentery and cholera stalking the camp.