UNDER THE WALLS OF ARBINO

It was night, and Arbino was ringed in fire. The besiegers had invested the city completely more than a week ago, and wooden palisades protected the camps of the besiegers. Torches burned on the palisades to expose any attempt at a sally from the castle; likewise torches on the city walls attempted to expose any night assault in time to muster the garrison. A crippled siegetower leaned drunkenly with a broken axle still a hundred yards from the walls; it burned fitfully. The hoardings on one tower were engulfed in flame, and some burning buildings within the walls sent showers of sparks skyward. Every so often a bombard would fire a tremendous gout of flame in silence, the sound of the explosion coming several seconds later, long after a stone ball as heavy as a wagon had smashed into the wall.

As yet the walls stood relatively undamaged, and the gunners had their own dangers. One gunshield lay split on the field, ripped apart by the explosion of its gun. The gunners had been blown to bits. The bells of Arbino had been rung in celebration, but it was still far too early for the besieged to take heart. There were other guns.

Leaning on the haft of her poll-axe, Sir Merriya de Blackmere stared out across the top of the palisade at the wasted field that lay between her and the walls of Arbino. Fully armored in a harness of mail and plate, her black surcoat fastened around her waist with a thin white belt, a long cut-and-thrust sword on one hip, she would have presented an imposing figure, if it was not for the mud and filth that was smeared all across her gear. Giving her shoulders a twist, Merriya tried to work some of the knots out of her muscles. She was due to lead her troops under the wall soon, and she wanted to be as ready as possible. Stepping away from the fence and down a short slope, Merriya turned to check the readiness of her command.

Her troops numbered an even dozen. There were ten men and two women, all dressed in brigadine jackets or plate half-armor over jupons and armed with bills and halberds. Long bladed ballock daggers were thrust into their belts, while a lucky few carried broad-bladed falchions. At the moment, they hunched down behind the palisade, griping about the food, the water, the foolishness of their commanders, the likelihood of getting good loot. The usual soldier's grumble. Twice already the rattle and clank of the gunners raising their gunmantle had presaged its firing -- all conversation ceased then, and the men put their hands over their ears until the clap of thunder that was the firing of the bombard.

Merriya had been given the command of this unit by Sir Shadrubal, a Knight Commander of her Order. He had also told her to wait for another dozen reinforcements, and that they would be here by moonrise. They were already an hour late.

"Sir Merriya?"

The speaker was a young man, barely old enough to shave, although as dirty as any man in her command. It was hard to keep clean in a siege. Water was always hard to find and filthy.

"Yes, boy?" Merriya gave the youth an intense glare, wondering if the attack had been called off; or perhaps she was about to be told her promised troops were no more.

"We've been looking for you, Sir!" The young man slapped his chest in the salute common on the Sotelian peninsula and went running off.

A few minutes later he returned, bringing back a squad as large as her own with a tall man in front. The big man was clearly in command. He stood taller than any man in either group, and was broad-shouldered.

He tapped his chest in salute. "Sir Merriya de Blackmere?" His voice had northern roots, not the Sotelian accent she expected.

Merriya nodded at the question, feeling a bit relieved that she hadn't been waiting for phantom soldiers, "I am the one you seek."

"I am Berholt the Black. I command these men. We are instructed to obey your commands and assist you tonight." He seemed reserved, although that was natural enough given that he knew nothing of her. He looked her up and down as she had him.

"Well then, welcome to my company Master Berholt." Merriya gave the tall man a wry smile, "I would wish you a good day, but I fear that to be a useless gesture."

The men he brought were typical Sotelian Condottiere. They all had the arms of Portezza sewn on one shoulder: argent, a crossbow and a chief sable. They wore padded jacks, an iron plackart for torso defense, metal cuisses and demi-greaves, and iron kettlehats. They each carried a spetum, a type of slashing spear with flanges on the side. While not as effective as pikes in close formation, they were much more useful in flexible engagements. They also carried a cinquedea, a broad-bladed short sword unique to the Sotelian citystates.

Berholt's armour was similar, save that he wore a swept-back black sallet. It took her a moment to realize that the bevor was missing, because the lower part of his face was covered in a dense black beard. The tall man carried a cinquedea at his belt like his men, but his primary weapon was a morningstar -- a massive spiked ball attached to a long, heavy handle by a short chain. It was a vicious weapon, dangerous to the user as well as his target if poorly handled.

The black-bearded man was clearly as strong as he looked, because he carried an oval shield as well as the morningstar. To use a morningstar in one hand required great strength.

Merriya gave her new troops an appraising glance. They seemed well armed and armored, but then most mercenaries were, and were certainly experienced soldiers. "Master Berholt, have your men take their leave with my own soldiers. But don't presume that they can now rest, for we were to move against the walls an hour ago."

Berholt nodded and turned to his men. "Sit! Get some water, don't go anywhere -- we move out immediately."

Pulling the cork from his costrel, he took a long swig and then offered it to Merriya.

"What is our mission tonight then, Sir Knight," Berholt asked as he passed her the costrel. Merriya carefully let a few drops fall to the ground before taking a drink herself. It was the usual mix of water and cheap wine that any soldier carried. The wine masked the flavour of the water and reduced the chance of disease. It was bitter and vinegary.

"Come," Merriya gestured to the palisade, wiping her mouth "I will show you."

Berholt followed Merriya up the short slope to the rough breastwork that formed the palisade. Pointing out into the night, Merriya indicated the distant wall of Arbino. "At midnight there will be an assault upon the west wall. I am to take our company and guard against anyone exiting the sally port under the south wall." That said, Merriya turned to look up at her taller companion, "It is a half mile to the wall, do you have any suggestions as to the best approach?"

Berholt looked out at the torch-lit walls for a long moment. "We should be safe enough crossing the open if we don't draw any attention," he mused out loud. "We've got to cross the open, get into the moat, and find a place where we can observe the sally port, I guess. Have you seen the sally port?"

Merriya shook her head, "Nay, I have not." Once again she pointed out at Arbino, "Although I do know it lies at the base of that far tower and the curtain wall."

Berholt nodded once, gauging the distance to the tower. He glanced at the walls beside it. "Have you been within range of the walls at night before?"

"Nay..." Merriya gave Berholt a small smile, "I am afraid Master Berholt I have not. The only action I have seen near the wall has been been during the day, and that was having my company place fascines in the moat."

Berholt shook his head. "Neither I." Berholt looked out at the walls again, then at the field they would have to cross. "I would feel better knowing how well they can see us from those walls."

"At night?" Merriya shrugged, a gesture that seemed lost in the dark and her armor, "Not very well I think. The torches upon the walls should only reveal that which is close to the base of the wall, not anyone crossing this field."

"I hope you have the right of it. But even if we can pass the open field unseen, we must be close enough to the wall to counterattack if they sally, is that not right?"

"Aye, surely there lies the crux of the matter."

"It will not be easy to get us close enough to quickly respond to a sally, yet far enough away that we do not all end up with crossbow quarrels in our guts." Berholt's beard showed a flash of teeth halfway between a grimace and a smile. "Your command, my lady. You get the credit if we achieve the impossible, and take the blame if we can't, eh?"

Merriya gave Berholt a wry grin in return, "That is the lot of commanders I do think.

"Master Berholt," Merriya said as she slid her bascinet over her head, "I do think that it would be wise for you to retain command of your men. Although you have been told to follow my commands, your soldiers do not know of me, or have seen my battleskill. I think then, that you should keep your troop with you, and mine with me." Fitting the helmet securely and straightening the aventail, she looked up at the tall, dark bearded man, "What say you?"

"That sounds wise."

Mustering her troops by a narrow gate in the palisade, Merriya formed then into two columns of six. That done, she gestured to Berholt. "It would be best if you took the van, Master Berholt; for your troops are better armored than mine and look to be more suited to fighting in the open."

"As you like." He mustered his Portezzans in three columns of four, telling his men to keep a yard from the man in front, keep the same distance from the other columns, and to keep quiet. He followed the middle column himself. That put him right in front of Merriya, who led her dozen men behind him. Their preparations complete, the company started out across the dark field.

"I could wish we had some bows, or some more shields," Berholt spoke in a hushed voice as they moved through the darkness. "Crawling up to the walls for quarrel-catching practice is not much to my taste."

"Nor mine Master Berholt. But, Gods willing, I do think the assault on the west wall will be enough to distract the foe."

"Speaking of which," Berholt muttered, "listen." Distant trumpets sang out, carrying clearly through the night air. The attack on the west wall had begun.

"Then it is time for us to be about our business," Merriya pointed to the walls of Arbino with her poll-axe, "We must hasten our steps if we can."

They carried no lights, and the overcast night made it hard to see the uneven ground. The distant walls were easy enough to see, but rocks and hollows were nearly invisible out here once they moved away from the torch-lit palisade. The dead from previous days had been dragged off and buried, but there was still a smell of smoke and copper hanging about.

"Master Berholt?" Merriya asked abruptly, breaking several long minutes of silence."

"Aye?" The tall man's voice was quite deep.

"Have you been in Sotelia long?"

There was a noticeable pause before he responded. "Not long; a year or more."

"Then perhaps you know something about a strange symbol I saw burned into the door of a building. It was a circle with two horns jutting from the top. One of my troop said it to be from the Priests of Liart."

"Aye, that's Liart's sign" Berholt spat expressively. "It is a cruel and perverse religion. Master of Torments, they call him. I have heard that Conte Bacchiagola favors the Priests of Liart."

"Enh..." Merriya shuddered slightly, "Such gods are not to my liking. In my country, we have Spawn enough to fill any need for a 'Master of Torments'."

Berholt's face was invisible in the darkness, and he did not respond.

"Master Berholt," Merriya paused and looked at the walls of Arbino with a critical eye, "this Count Bacchiagola... why would he favor such a god?"

Berholt called forward a pause to his corporal in the lead and also stopped.

"Power, I suppose. Liart promises power, above all else. Gain the favor of that god through oppressing those below you, and he gives you even more power." He took another swig from his costrel and spat again, expressively. "I hear that their high ceremonies involve torture of the weak and helpless. As if that would make them stronger."

Meriya shook her head with a rattle of mail, "Hmph, any man who follows such a god is a jack-fool swine. If this is the Count's way then he is an honorless man who is no better than the Spawn and as such should be brought down..."

"I will certainly tell him you said so the next time we meet and discuss such things," Berholt said sardonically. Then he continued in a more conversational tone, "I think Portezza is fighting against him because of the usual Sotelian issues -- treaty violations, politics, trade issues, and the fact the man is as slippery and vicious as an eel. The Sea-eel, they call him."

"A creature I care little for," Merriya remarked. "It would seem this Count is well named then. Perhaps the gods will favor us and the Count will see fit to attend this battle in person, whereupon we will see how much Liart's promises of power serve to aid him."

Berholt grunted. "I haven't heard that the Sea-eel favours risking his own blood in battle. Not like Liart's priests."

"Then I shall show his priests the mercy of a quick death, which is most likely more than they deserve." Merriya sighed slightly, "There are times when I would rather be fighting Spawn, at least their motives are easier to understand."

As they neared the wall, Merriya passed the word for a pause. She and Berholt went forward to look at the walls, two hundred paces away. The flickering torches on top made it hard to tell if anyone was on the walls between the merlons, and gave little illumination down at the base of the wall.

Moving more slowly, Merriya and Berholt led the group forward, parallel with the walls, keeping away from the moat.

Five minutes later the small force was opposite the tower that was their objective. Merriya led them directly towards it, moving slower. Soon they came to the edge of the moat.

In the darkness, fitfully lit by the torches and braziers high on the walls overhead, they could see few details of the moat. Merriya had seen it in the daylight -- it was about thirty feet across with angled sides, only about ten feet deep, and the bottom was marshy. Long marshgrass had grown there before, but it had mostly been burned off in the assaults.

They could not see the sally port. The splayed base of the wall was visible in the torchlight, although only just, but the wall itself was lost in shadow, and their eyes could not see anything. Even the other side of the moat was too dark to see any details. The flickering fires on the high wall barely illuminated the outside of the moat where they stood, but cast no light close to the wall.

Berholt whispered "Which side is it on?"

"I know not."

Berholt looked over at the darkness, but his eyes gave him no help. "We need to know that." He turned to Merriya. "You, or me?"

Merriya stood silent for a long moment, studying the shadowy expanse of the far wall. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned to Berholt, "I would not send another to do that which is my responsibility, I will go."

Berholt put out a hand to restrain her and catch her attention. "Command does not imply that you must be your own scout, Sir Knight." He stared at the walls fixedly for a moment as he continued, "It is often easier to do something, anything, then to stand and wait.

Then the big man shrugged, showing a flash of teeth again through his dark beard. "As you choose, of course."

Merriya returned Berholt's smile, "I thank you for your offer, Master Berholt, but I shall go myself. I wish to see with my own eyes what we face, the better to decide our next course of action."

Berholt nodded.

Moving to the edge of the moat, Merriya looked down, trying to determine the best method of descending the slick and grassy slope. "Master Berholt, I shall return shortly, and do trust you to command my company as you would your own. If I am captured or killed, then I charge you to see to my company as best you are able, for they have stood me well here these past days."

Berholt nodded again.

Merriya clambered down the side of the moat without too much difficulty. At the bottom it smelled of stagnant water and waste. Feeling her way, using the butt of the poll-axe as a sounding pole, she found the bottom of the moat was not deep. No more than six inches of slimy water covered several feet of mud. She slogged slowly across, nearly losing a boot, pulling her foot free with an almost obscene sucking sound. In her full armour the trek was exhausting, and she had to rest for a moment on the other side. Leaning on her axe, she nearly gagged at the rich fetid smell floating up from the thick gooey mud below her feet. Even in the darkness she could picture the how it would look; black and grey, heavy with slime and watery enough to entrap anyone unfortunate enough to stumble into it.

Clambering up was easier going than going down, although made more awkward by the darkness under the walls. She could barely see beyond the reach of her poll-axe here, and the footing was very uneven.

The base of the tower splayed out steeply, the stonework running down at an angle right into the moat. Moving along the base of the wall, Merriya quickly found the sally port. At one edge of the tower, where it touched the wall, a space scarcely two men wide had been cut into the splay of the tower, parallel to the wall. As the angle of the splay rose this became almost a passage, shielded from view outside. Where the cut reached the tower wall there was a door placed at an angle to the passage, in such a way as to make it impossible to bring a long ram to bear on the door.

Creeping as silently as she could, Merriya examined the door by feel in the pitch darkness. It was stoutly built and iron-bound. She could hear no noise through it.

Standing in the total darkness of the sallyport, Merriya spent a few moments lost in thought. A door such as this was made to be opened from the inside, and the iron strappings would greatly hinder any attempt to force it. Bracing the door closed was a possibility, hampered only by the lack of sizeable timbers on this side of the wall. Creeping out of the port to the edge of the wall, Merriya stopped to listen. The assault on the far west wall was audible as a distant wordless roar, punctuated by the occasional booming crash of a cannon or other siege engine. Bending down to the ground, Merriya put her hand out, feeling for any sort of path leading from the wall.

A few moments searching revealed a fairly well-beaten trail leading from the sallyport to the edge of the moat. Following the path, Merriya soon came upon some timbers sunk into the ground, sticking out roughly over the moat. Her questing hand came back sooty, and the rough ends still smelled of ash. Moving down the slope, back into the moat proper, Merriya found more lengths of burned timber, although these thrust upwards into the air. They looked like supports of some sort, possibly for a thin footbridge. Squelching through the watery mud, Merriya tried to get a better view of the burned remnants of supports. If it had been a bridge it had been fired fairly recently.

Traversing the moat was just as difficult on the return trip as it had been on the way over. While struggling with the clinging mud and trying to ignore the acrid stench, Merriya puzzled over the wreckage she had found. Obviously someone had burned a wooden structure here. It was most likely a bridge, and its location opposite the sallyport would have made it a useful tool for the defenders to launch a surprise attack from. So... who would have burned it? The defenders themselves? Someone from her camp? One thing was for certain, crossing this moat was pointless. Any force exiting from the sallyport would be easily contained trying to climb up the far bank of the moat, while leading her own troops across the under the walls would only place them in an unmanageable position.

Reaching the far bank. Merriya paused to catch her breath. She could feel the sweat from the effort of walking through the thick stew behind her running down her body, which steamed slightly in the night air. Gritting her teeth and using her poll-axe to ascend the moat wall, she decided to go seek out Berholt and find his thoughts on the matter.

Berholt grabbed her reaching arm and hoisted her the last couple of yards. He was clearly as strong as he looked. In the dim flickering light of the torches high on the wall, he handed her his costrel again.

"Hah!" Merriya swallowed, coughed and spat, "Master Berholt, I think now that I should have let you go in my stead. That moat is ill named, 'swamp' is a more fitting term."

"Better you than me," Berholt said low-voiced with a flash of teeth. "But keep your voice down -- sound carries better at night than at day, and we are in a precarious position."

"Agreed," Merriya responded in a softer voice, lowering herself to sit on the field. The two corporals, Hob and Cozmo, drew nigh.

Twisting about where she kneeled on the grass, Merriya gestured at the shadowy mass of the city's curtain wall. "The sallyport is right about there. It is cut deep into the corner formed by the wall and the curve of the tower. It is too thick to force, although we could try bracing it closed with a sufficiently heavy timber."

"If we had such a thing," Berholt responded. "How much space is there for a force to muster on the other side?"

"Not much," Merriya replied with a shake of her head, "there is only a few feet of clear ground at the base of the walls and a bit of platform laid out in front of the sallyport." Pausing to drink again from the waterskin, Merriya then pointed out over the moat. "There I found the burned remains of what could be a bridge. The wood still smells of ash and it looks to have been fired very recently." She turned to look back at the mercenary captain, "What do you make of that Master Berholt?"

Berholt shrugged. "Seems clear enough. This is a city, not a castle. Every sally port is a small gate at peacetime, and a wooden footbridge makes it easier to get to the fields and pastures. But what is the purpose of a moat if you put convenient crossings everywhere? They must have burned it when we closed the siege a week ago."

"Then we do not have much to fear from anyone exiting the sallyport. The moat is such that anyone crossing it would be an easy target for us."

Berholt glanced toward the tower. "So what orders then, Sir Knight?"

Merriya sat silently for a few moments, staring at the dark base of the tower where the sallyport was. "I think we should wait and see if anyone exits by the door. That is our mission after all."

"As you say. I suggest that we pull back into the darkness, then. Here on the edge we are very vulnerable to missile fire, and exposed to anyone with keen eyes looking from the wall."

"A true and good suggestion," Merriya stood with a faint jingle of harness, "Lets us be about it."

Kneeling in a shallow depression in the hope that it would help hide her troops, Merriya took a moment to examine her surroundings. With Berholt's help she had with drawn their troops away from the edge of the moat, arranging them in a broad arc with her own squad of billmen in the center flanked by Berholt's Condottiere. Here, some thirty yards from the moat, she couldn't really see her hand in front of her face, so she hoped that they were effectively invisible from the walls.

Since there was nothing to do now but wait for an assault that might never occur, Merriya decided she could risk removing her helm for a few moments. She had left the faceplate off when initially donning her bascinet -- in the dark it was hard enough to see anyway, and the limited visibility her visor afforded would render her virtually blind at night -- but even the with that measure for improving ventelation she felt hot and her hair seemed full of sweat. Pulling the bascinet off her head, she gave a low sigh of relief at the feel of the cool night air across her face.

Holding her helm with one hand, Merriya loosened the ties on her arming cap, letting her long dark hair fall free. Trying to braid the shoulder-length mass was usually impossible in a situation like this, so Merriya settled for tying it back at the base of her neck, rather than allowing it to hang free and get tangled up in her aventail. With her helm off, Merriya realised that she could still hear the faint sounds of the attack on the South Wall. She could even see a fringe of light over the wall.

Merriya blinked in suprise. Light? Visible in the sky over the top of the wall? What could possibly be going on at the South Wall? Turning to Cozmo, Berholt's corporal, Merriya pointed at the unusual sight. "Say, do you see that?"

"'Scuzi?"

Merriya gave the man an irked look. Deciphering the thick accents of the Condotterie could be quite a chore at times. "There. The glow that shows over the wall."

"Aw! Aw, yas, Sar," Cozmo whispered.

"Say, do you suppose that is a fire?" Merriya took another look at the dim glow, "I don't think they have taken the city."

"Es muss be a fire, Sar. Es iss somezing big alight. A tower, I zink. Or a siege tower, es could be too."

"Hmm..." Merriya nodded absently, "Then the battle could be going against us I warrant. Corporal have your men keep watch on the moat, for if anyone desires to cross it we should be able to hear them clearly."

The stars were sparse and covered by scudding cloud tonight. Sitting and waiting quietly, with a patience learned from similar campaigns in her past, Merriya stared at the distant city walls. Even to night-adjusted eyes there was nothing new to see -- the wall was invisible in black shadow cast by the flickering torches atop it; the moat edge was a barely-discernable blur. Then she heard some noise from the direction of the moat. A thump of some sort, perhaps. Not very loud.

Moving quietly, Merriya told the troops to be ready. She heard a faint rustling around her as the men changed their footing and gripped their weapons, looking forward.

Not more than a minute later, in the faint flicker of the distant torches Merriya saw something moving, a shadow, backlit. From its position it had to be on their side of the moat. No details could be discerned.

"Hob..." Merriya hissed, calling to her own Corporal, "Tell Berholt's men on our right to move forward slowly."

"Aye, ma'am." Hob nodded and jogged off into the night, gripping his bill tightly.

"Master Berholt," Merriya whispered as she moved to the other side, "Master Berholt!"

"I'm here," came his deep voice quietly from the inky blackness. In the dark she almost ran into him.

"There is someone coming across the moat. I want us to advance at a slow pace and capture him if possible."

"Aye," he said in a hushed voice, repeating her orders. "Move forward at a slow pace; capture him if possible."

Returning to her own troops, Merriya gestured to Hob to have them move forward slowly. There was the rustle and faint clank of harness as her small force arranged themselves into two rows of six men. Then, with a slow and measured pace, they set out across the field weapons ready to meet the enemy at the moat.

As they moved forward, more enemies came up. The faint shadows limned against the torchlight were now clearly several men; once or twice the breeze tossed them a snippet of hushed voices, although too distant to understand.

Seeing this, Merriya turned to Hob, "We will attack straight away and try to drive them back into the moat. Go tell the others." Once again Hob vanished into the night, while Merriya informed another of her command to give the same message to Berholt.

As Merriya came forward she saw that half a dozen armed men stood at the moat-edge. Some of them were facing out, others crouched by the edge. As she watched she saw another man clamber up.

"Ware! We are attacked!" An enemy had seen them coming out of the night, and the half-dozen men turned to face Merriya's troop. Now she could see their harness dimly; they held bucklers and ready weapons, thick-bladed swords or falchions. Their armour was quite similar to that of the Portezzans.

"Ready up!" Merriya shouted, raising her axe, "Master Berholt! Take their flanks!" Looking over her shoulder, she gestured with the blade of her weapon, "Hob! Close in on me! We strike at their middle!"

The men at the edge had barely enough time to make a simple line and come forward a bit from the edge before the forces collided.

At Merriya's side Hob chopped down with his bill as he stepped in, cutting deep into an enemy's vitals. The man went down without a sound.

Merriya's chosen foe was quite skilled, trying to rush as she closed and get within her greater reach, but she faked a blow high and caught him in the belly. The man's plackart was no great protection against a pollaxe swung with such force, and her blade crunched deep through armor and jupon. He went down with a wordless cry of agony, clutching his stomach.

The clash of weapons as the rest of the line hit was loud in the night. One of Merriya's men cried out as he was hit in the body, but the blow didn't penetrate his brigandine, and he redoubled his efforts.

At one end of the enemy line Berholt's huge shape collided with one of the enemy skirmishers. Berholt's morningstar whistled wickedly through the air, but his opponent managed to catch the blow on his buckler with a deafening clang. Berholt followed his blow in, though, and the impact of his shoulder against the man's chest threw the enemy back into the moat with a `woof' of expelled air.

Merriya thrust with her poll-axe at a foe wrestling one of her men beside her, the foot-long spike at the top of the blade punching deep in the kidneys. He went down with a shout of agony. Four of the enemy were now down, without a single casualty on her side.

The two remaining skirmishers broke and leaped to slide down the slope into the moat. One of her billmen caught a fleeing man in the leg as he bolted.

A sudden twanging and the hiss of arrows announced the firing of crossbows the walls. One of Merriya's men gave a cry of pain and dropped his bill, the stubby shaft of a bolt sticking out of his arm.

"Fall back and regroup!" Merriya shouted, waving her poll-axe. More crossbows sang out as the men fell back, but nobody was hit.

Berholt grasped Merriya's shoulder. "Let me stay." He held up his huge oval shield. "They'll not hit me, not in this darkness with this shield. And you need someone to stay forward, so we are not surprised. If we pull back far enough to be safely out of the light, we'll not be able to see what they do," he said earnestly.

Merriya nodded to the tall mercenary, "Alright. Return if you cannot hold them."

Motioning to her troop, Merriya quickly withdrew them into the protection offered by the darkness beyond the range of the torches. Here the crossbowmen would not be able to see them, and if the enemy sent their troops across the moat again, their own men would hamper the crossbow's fire. Merriya's company would be able to close in relative safety.

Merriya hardly had time to catch her breath once she had her troops back in the dark and under cover when she heard a cry and muffled curse from behind her, among her men.

"Now what?" she snapped.

Hob came forward with one of Merriya's billmen. "Sir. Bodger took a bolt in the arm. I've pulled it out and bound the wound, but he canna use his bill no more."

"Very well," Merriya nodded, "Have him return to our lines then. And tell him to report these happenings to Captain Shadrubal."

"Aye, Sir." Hob went back into the dark with Bodger to start him the right direction, and the Portezzan corporal approached.

"Sar, Oi've ordered ze men as you say," Cozmo reported to Merriya.

"That is good, for we shall see more action anon, I suspect."

Portezzan corporal glanced back at the moat edge where Berholt had remained. "Ee iss a ztrange one, no?"

"Master Berholt?" Merriya gave him a questioning look, "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, he iss ver' brave," Cozmo quickly responded, misinterpreting Merriya's question. "I mean not that. A cloud, it iss, it hang over heem. Some men, zey say he iss here because of a woman."

"Be that as it may, now is not the time to discuss such things." Merriya shook her head slightly, "Master Berholt has proven himself to be a stout man of arms and brave in the face of the enemy. And that is good enough for me, I assure you."

"Ah yas, he iss a very good fighter."

Although back out of the light, Merriya could hear the groans of the wounded in the ditch. Other sounds too, the movement of men and sloshing water, unintelligible orders. They no longer seemed to be making any effort to be quiet. Minutes passed, and the sounds continued. It seemed like more noise than a scarce half-dozen men should be making.

A shape came moving towards them from the moat. It was Berholt. Although his face was invisible, his voice was concerned.

"They're filling the moat with men, Merriya. Fifty, maybe more. They seem to be preparing to rush the slope all together."

"Enh..." Merriya grimaced, "That is not good. We number only five and twenty, and even with our bills and spears I don't think we could hold so many."

"If they come in a prepared rush, it will be very hard. Worse still with the crossbows, otherwise we could stand at the lip of the slope and defy them."

"Cokke's bones, we are caught in a right fine box!" Merriya glared at the unseen archers on the far wall.

"I saw something more," he continued. "Two of them, the two giving orders, were wearing armour with spikes all over and great helms of hideous aspect."

"Sacremente!" Cozmo spoke up. "Zose are ze priests of Liart!"

"Hmmm..." Merriya thought quickly for a moment. "Master Berholt, our orders are to repel any attempt at a sortie. We must act fast then if we wish to have any chance against twice our number. We will arrange ourselves as we did before, with your troops on the wings and my squad of bills in the center. If we move quickly, then we can possibly catch them still trying to ascend the moat wall, where their numbers will not aid them. What say you?"

"The timing is rough," he said doubtfully. "If we are too early, the crossbows will eat us. If we are too late, their numbers will. I'm not sure it can work if they come in a wave. They will outflank us."

"We will strike when half their number has reached the field. We must try and drive them back onto their fellows quickly, or all will be lost." Merriya looked over at Hob and Cozmo. "You two must be prepared to withdraw your commands quickly if we do not succeed, but not give yourselves over to panic. Can you do such a thing?"

Hob spoke up. "What, you mean if you fall?"

"If our attack fails and their ranks hold then you must withdraw." Merriya looked at her corporal directly. "If I fall then you are to follow Master Berholt's command. If he has fallen, then all commands are your own, do as you see fit"

"Sir."

"Now Master Berholt," Merriya continued, turning back to where the tall mercenary stood in the darkness, "I ask this of you; that you and I will take the lead and try and engage these Priests of Liart directly."

"I will not fail you," he said grimly. "Cozmo will handle one wing, perhaps your Hob on the other. The center is where the Liarts will be."

Merriya's company prepared themselves as best they could, but when a shout came they were still a little surprised. One moment there was nobody visible across the field; no movement, and the next shapes appeared all along the lip of the moat.

Merriya called out the order and started toward the foe; Berholt matched her pace on his side. The whole line came forward. As they trotted out of the pitch dark Merriya noted that Berholt's shield had acquired a half-dozen crossbow bolts, sticking out of it like the spines of a hedgehog.

As the trotted forward, Merriya overheard Berholt mutter a simple prayer. "Fair Lady, you know how busy I shall be this night; if I forget you, please, do not you forget me."

Ahead of them the shadows formed into men, a lot of men. More arose and filled gaps in the line as they closed. Unlike the skirmishers they had trounced before, these all seemed to have some sort of body armour and a polearm. They must have climbed the slope on command after forming a line in the moat.

In the center was a gap, but now two armoured figures clambered up and filled the space in the line. They wore full helmets and full armour, and it as Berholt had said -- the pauldrons, elbows and knees of their armour had nasty blades and spikes. To Merriya's vision the armour seemed to glow somehow, but blackly not bright.

"Look, they have but half our number," one of the Liart priests shouted out in a harsh voice. In the dim light of the high torches it was hard to understand how he could have seen that -- Merriya had no idea how many of the enemy they faced, only that they were more than her men.

The second priest stepped forward from the line. In one hand he held a terrible sword, a strange sawtoothed weapon as long as a bastard sword. In the other he held a whip, which he cracked at the oncoming men.

"Who among you will be first to die," he yelled in a terrible voice full of the promise of pain, then laughed. His brother priest came forward, clashing a huge black axe against his shield, and joined in the laughter.

It was a sight to cause fear. Merriya's men, sturdy veterans though they were, paused in their rush. Merriya too had never seen the like, and her step also faltered.

"Kunnegunda!" Berholt yelled and charged them. The one with the whip struck as he was running in, snapping the whip at Berholt's legs. Berholt leaped over the strike and came in to meet the one with shield and axe. The enemy's shield failed to stop the whipping ball of Berholt's morningstar, which smashed into his belly. He grunted and staggered with the impact, but his axe swing was unaffected. The blow would have separated Berholt's head from his shoulders if it had connected, but he ducked under it in time.

"Hob, Cozmo! These false priests look to have enchanted armor!" Merriya cried, trying to keep any trace of panic from her voice. She had little liking for most forms of sorcery, and feared the implications of what she had seen in the Priests of Liart. "We need to give Master Berholt time to fall back! Strike at their far right flank and then we return to our lines, we cannot fight such sorcery!"

Merriya stepped forward meaning to strike at the whip-wielding priest. He tried to foul her axe with a lash of his whip, but Merriya avoided it easily and thrust low with finial spike of her poll-axe. The blow struck home, but only glanced off the angled surface of his cuisse. "Berholt! Berholt!" Merriya tried to get the big mercenary's attention, "These priests use magic arms, we must fall back!"

Her enemy's whip strike turned out to have been a feint -- the priest snapped out with his vicious sawtooth sword, striking Merriya across breastplate. Her armour should have been proof against such a weapon, but there was a flash of red light and agony, knocking her off her feet.

Berholt dodged under another savage axe-swipe of his opponent. "Merriya!" he cried, leaping over to where the knight had fallen. Standing over her he whipped his morningstar in a tight arc, smashing the swordsman in the shoulder.

Merriya struggled to her feet, trying to draw a breath. Seeing her opponent dazed by the force of Berholt's blow, Merriya responded instantly, putting all her might into a powerful downward swing. The blade of her poll-axe bit into the priest's armored chest, cutting deep into his unnatural armour. The force of the blow knocked the Liart priest to the ground in a heap, unmoving.

"There," gasped Merriya, fighting for breath, "I think it is you who will die first."

Seeing his brother-priest struck down, the axe-man shouted an oath and threw himself against them. He ignored Merriya, striking directly at Berholt, who blocked the axe-blow with his shield. There was another flash of reddish light and Berholt cried out. His shield had been shattered by the strength of the blow.

Merriya stepped to the side of the raging Liart priest. Her poll-axe whipped out low, hooking the back of the man's knee, and he fell hard to the ground.

Shaking the shattered remnants of his shield from his arm, Berholt grasped the long thick shaft of his morningstar with both hands and swung a huge blow at the fallen man's head as he attempted to rise. The vicious spiked ball connected with his faceplate with a sickening `thunk' and laid him out unmoving.

Dropping his morningstar, Berholt grabbed the fallen foe by throat and crotch and heaved him over his head to full arms-length. Holding him thus in the flickering torchlight, his mighty sinews convulsed and he threw the inert body into the moat with a tremendous roar.

Wasting no time gaping at Berholt's display of strength, Merriya spun her poll-axe around in a tight circle. Amazingly enough, the other priest was still alive and struggling to regain his feet. Pausing only to brace her feet, Merriya punched the long finial spike of her axe through the priest's plackart with a sickening crunch of rent armor and torn mail. Thrusting hard with the shaft of her axe, she sent the man stumbling backwards to collapse with a crash of harness.

The fighting around them paused.

Hob shouted out "The Liart priests are down!" Around them the Arbino militia stepped back. Some of them ran, some tried to slide back into the moat. Most of them fought on, but word of the fall of the priests spread quickly and the heart seemed to have gone out of them. Where the Portezzan Condottiere and Merriya's troop had been hard pressed before, now they pressed the attack. Unengaged Arbino militia in the dark tried to avoid the fighting, rather than curving in to flank their command.

It seemed like but a few moments more and the Arbino troops were in full flight. Many were back in the moat, sloshing to the other side. The night was confused, with the moans of the wounded mixing with sounds of flight.

"Hob! Hob!" Merriya shouted, looking around anxiously for her corporal, "Pull your troop back from the walls! It will be only moments before the crossbows find their mark!"

"Sir!" Hob's recognition of her order came from one side, although she couldn't see him in the confusion.

Satisfied that her command was withdrawing in good order, Merriya paused a moment to lean on her her axe. Indicating the fallen body of the Priest of Liart with one hand she gave a questioning look to her tall companion, "What of him, Master Berholt? Would it be worth our trouble to bring him with us?"

Berholt's eyes were cold. He pulled the spiked helmet off the foe and drew his cinquedea.

"This one has tortured his last child, Sir Knight."

Merriya's eyes narrowed, "Do what you must then, but I ask that you make it quick and grant him a mercy he has doubtless never shown others."

Blood gushed blackly in the torchlight and Berholt wiped his broad-bladed sword on the ground.

A crossbow bolt whirred by them, reminding them of their precarious position here, lit by the flickering torchlight. They both looked up at the walls automatically, then over at the hidden sallyport, where curses and cries made it clear there was a confused jam as the militia attempted to re-enter.

Berholt's glance chanced upon one of the skirmishers fallen in the first engagement that night. The man had a short beard. His plackart was very similar to Berholt's.

An idea lit Berholt's eyes. He turned to the lady knight, voice sharp with urgency. "Merriya! My men wear armour very like that of these skirmishers -- the sallyport must be chaos now, with every man trying to get in! Think of it -- we might have a chance now, in the pitch darkness, where daylight would never allow. We could get in! A chance only, belike a poor one, but what small risk, for such great gain!"

Merriya grinned in return, her teeth white in the shadows, "Aye Master Berholt, it is a chance like no other. Let us move quickly and hope that the Gods will smile on such risk!"

"Cozmo! Cozmo, to me!" Berholt tossed his sallet to the ground and put on the fallen man's kettlehat as he yelled for his corporal. The squat corporal came running up.

"Cozmo, drop your weapons and grab a buckler and falchion from one of these skirmishers. You are coming with me!" Berholt quickly worked at the straps of his cuisses, dropping them in the churned earth. "And take off your leg harness. Quick now!" Cozmo looked confused, but did as he was ordered.

Berholt spoke as if to himself. "More than a few would attract attention, and I do not trust any of the others in such a strange situation." He glanced at Merriya's full plate apologetically. "Lady, I do not think you can enter on the sly. Even full of confusion and fear, they must have torches there, and none of them would mistake your harness for one of theirs."

"No doubt you are right," Merriya scowled at the prospect of remaining in the open field.

Berholt finished changing his harness and grabbed up the buckler and falchion of the fallen man. "We must hurry -- if in panic they close the sallyport, we fail. Quick, then, what plan? Assume Cozmo and I can get in, that the dark and the confusion and our similarity of armour allows us entry unsuspected. What can we do?"

Merriya nodded to the other man, "The sallyport will most likely exit to the base of the tower, or to a clear area beside it. I doubt you will be able to enter the tower from that point, as it most likely not have any stairs." Turning, she indicated the shadowed curve of the city wall, "What we need is to have the city gates opened, which would allow us unhindered entry. But it may take more than the two of you to accomplish such a task."

"It would take more than our whole force to accomplish that -- the gates will be heavily guarded, and it would take an hour or more to get back to our lines, convince a captain to deploy troops, muster the troops, and get back. By that time our men would be slaughtered by the city forces."

"Then, by the Gods, what use will your idea be if we do not make something of it?" Merriya snapped angrily, not wanting to see such a chance wasted. "Either we try for the gates, or we secure this sallyport and bring them down from within! If you do not wish for the gates, then we should take this port!"

"Now, Master Berholt," she added in a quieter voice, "What do you say?"

"There are many things that a few men could do in the city, even if the gates be too well guarded. Start a fire, for example. But you are right in the main -- anything two men can do, our company of a score could do better. If Cozmo and I can take the sallyport, and you can bring the company up and through it, we might be able to take a wall or a tower, or do some significant damage inside Arbino.

"The sallyport might be possible," Berholt said. "Cozmo and I will take it if it can be taken, or die in the attempt." Hearing that, Cozmo looked up from discarding his leg harness, open-mouthed and pale.

"Then do so, Master Berholt and may the Gods speed you." Merriya grinned.

"It may take time -- if we gain entry without drawing attention, there will be a crowd of militia there. Only after they are dispersed will we be able to attempt to overcome any guards and open the gate.

Berholt clapped Merriya on the arm. "Wait for my signal. If I succeed, I'll show a light at the sallyport. Then come with as quickly as you may; if you avoid attracting the attention of the crossbowmen even better. Fare thee well, Lady, if I see you not again."

"And you as well, Master Berholt. By Gezu, I do hope we will meet come Prime."

Berholt turned and grabbed Cozmo, and the two slid down the slope into the moat and sloshed across. Merriya saw him dunk himself in the filthy water to soil his clothing and armour and force Cozmo to do the same, and then they started climbing the opposite slope.

"Hob! Hob!" Merriya called as she jogged away from the edge of the moat, "Bring our company together and form a line, we will await Master Berholt's signal!"

A short time later, Merriya once again knelt in the shrouded darkness that lay beyond the edge of the torchlight. Spread out to either side was the men of Berholt's and her companies.

Only fourteen men remained from the original complement of two dozen. Hob had mustered eighteen, but Merriya had sent four wounded back to the lines. Many of the half-dozen unaccounted for were probably not dead; as likely they had gotten lost in the darkness or the fluster of the battle at the moat.

Weapons down, they rested as best they could, some drinking from their costrels, some sleeping, some talking quietly on the fighting that had occurred and the prospect of looting the town if their captains' plans succeeded.

"Sir?" whispered Hob, "What are we waiting for?"

"A light," answered Merriya. "When we see a light at the sallyport, then we are to cross the moat with all possible speed and do what damage we can." Turning to look directly at her corporal, she grinned, "Such ventures have taken towns before, with rich rewards to those responsible."

"Sure," Hob grunted dourly, "the ones that lived."

Merriya shook her head, still grinning, "Have I led you wrong so far?"

"Hunh!" Hob refused to comment. "The Portezzans say Master Berholt is under a curse; that he is foolhardy."

"That may be..." Merriya mused, "but he does seem to have a care for his own command."

Time passed as they waited, and Merriya found herself begining to doze. It was now several hours after midnight and the darkness seemed to have gotten even deeper. Yawning deeply, she lay back on the ground, sighing at the frustration of being forced to wait on the actions of another.

"Hob," she said in a quiet voice, "I am going to rest for a moment, rouse me if you see Berholt's light."

She but closed her eyes for a moment, it seemed, when Hob shook her awake.

"Hah! What? What?"

"Sir! There is a light there, at the base of the tower!"

"Quickly now!" Merriya called as she got to her feet, "Everyone arm themselves, we must make for the sallyport with all possible speed!

"Hob, you take Master Berholt's men across the moat first and meet with him at the door! I will follow with our troop!" Gesturing to her soldiers, Merriya quickly sorted them into two groups. The first was comprised of Berholt's Condotterie, the second her remaining billmen.

"Now," she ordered to her troops, "we must cross the moat with care, for to do so in a single rush will surely alert anyone on the wall. Hob will take his company across the moat first, and then I will follow with mine. Are all of you with me?"

The men muttered a response that seemed affirmative. Merriya could tell they had mixed feelings -- this venture must seem like madness to some of them. But soldiers followed successful leaders, and they had already had great success tonight.

Merriya and her company set out for the moat at a quick trot, the third time that evening. Waving Hob on ahead, Merriya paused, waiting for the Condottiere to cross the moat before committing her own troops.

As soon as the Portezzan mercenaries crossed the moat, Merriya waved her own men forward, coming to the edge of the moat and sliding down the grassy slope in a rush. There were bodies down here, men slain in the previous engagements lying half-submerged in the water and slimy muck.

There was also a simple bridge, as she found when she got to the bottom. Where nothing had lain before, there was now three broad timbers laid across the watery moat. The timbers formed a thin bridge that allowed them to cross quickly and with little fuss in single file. They had not been there when she had scouted across the moat early in the evening. There were also two lines of stout rope staked out on the steep grassy slopes of the moat to allow soldiers to climb up the slick sides.

Using the ropes and rough timbers, the file of troops clambered up the slope into the dark shadow of the wall with surprising ease.

As Merriya climbed up, last of the file, a large hand grabbed hers and pulled her the last few paces up. It was Berholt.

"Don't speak," he whispered. "Luck is with us; the crossbowmen were not alert after an hour of quiet. Follow me."

The two moved past the line of men now standing at the foot of the wall as cautiously as they could, and into the stygian darkness of the passage. The stout door was slightly ajar, and Berholt led them through. The door opened onto the street. Merriya couldn't restrain a rush of exhiliration -- they were in Arbino!

There was a single guard on the other side holding a candle-lantern. He looked very nervous. As he glanced up, Merriya saw that it was Cozmo.

"Well," Merriya whispered, "how did you fare?"

"It was easier than we deserved," spoke Berholt in a hushed voice. "We pushed our way through so as not to be at the end, and attract notice. Covered with slime, we just opened our eyes wide, feigning fear, and none noticed us more than any others. There was a tremendous fuss because of the defeat, and little in the way of light, so it was easy enough for us to slip away behind a near building. It seemed forever before they mustered the militia out in the street. They left a pair of men as guards here. We waited until long after we heard the militia leaving the street outside before we slew them and opened the sallyport."

"Well done Master Berholt," the satisfaction Merriya felt was evident in her voice. "Now, how lays the land?"

"The street is so dark you cannot see it now, but there is a door into the tower on our left, and the brazier up above us on the right is at the top of a stone stair to the wall-walk."

Merriya looked around. The street was wider than most city streets, perhaps ten paces across, and it ran along the wall. Three-story tile-roofed houses peered darkly at them. Side streets were all but invisible dark gaps between houses. "Master Berholt," she whispered, "see if the tower door can be opened."

Berholt had Cozmo hold the candle lantern while he inspected the door. It was strongly built of oak. A large keyhole was visible.. Berholt tried to turn the large doorward, but it would not budge.

"It is stoutly locked," Berholt whispered to Merriya. "I misdoubt me I could open it without a ram, and making the attempt would be loud."

"Hmmm..." Merriya sighed in frustration, "We have gained entry to the city, only find ourselves without purpose or direction..."

Stepping away from the curve of the tower, Merriya glanced about the street again. "Master Berholt, we must act, and act decisively. Even if we are too few to try and take the gatehouse, there are still enough of us to sow confusion within this city. I say that we should spread out and attempt to fire such buildings as seem most vulnerable. Hopefully this may confuse those that defend the walls to thinking the city has fallen behind them and take away their will to fight."

Berholt nodded. "A raid, then. Do as much damage as we can, distract and confuse them as much as we can."

Looking over at Berholt's tall, armored figure Merriya gestured to the houses across the way, "Now, lets us be about it."

Berholt looked around. "We'll need torches. And if we could find some bales of cotton, or barrels of olive oil, we could do great good. With a couple of barrels of olive oil or lard, we could burn this tower down, much less a townhouse or two. Where would they store such things, I wonder," he asked himself rhetorically.

"A tavern I should think," Merriya said thoughtfully, "Although we would be better off looking for the merchant's quarter, where such goods would be kept in great storehouses." A sudden thought made her smile in the darkness, "Master Berholt, we need to gather our men together and search, for as you said, who is to say we are not milita of Arbino."

"Even so," Berholt smiled in response.

"In Portezza the great warehouses are at the quayside and along the river. Arbino is not a port city, but its river is navigable; I expect things are no different here."

Suddenly Merriya was struck by a thought, and she glanced up at the brazier above them on the top of the stairs to the wallwalk. "Wait... just what do they use to keep those braziers up on the wall burning with anyway?"

Berholt followed her glance, then looked along the wall and the tower. "There are a dozen braziers along this stretch of wall alone, and they have been burning all night," he thought out loud. Then he grabbed Merriya's arm, struck by another thought. "You are right! And more -- they burned a siege engine by pouring great quantities of oil on it, and setting it alight! Where would that oil be stored?!? They would not go down to the river every time there is an attack, I think. To be any use, it would have to be near at hand!"

"Most certainly that is true." Merriya looked along the wall, "Would not they store the oil in the towers, then? I think we need to ascend the wall and see. Master Berholt, what say you to climbing the stair and inspecting this wall?"

"Let us do so! The night's awasting."

"Yes, let us." Merriya paused and looked about her thoughtfully, "Now Master Berholt, this is what you are to do; take your troop up the stairs and to the top of the wall and see if you can gain entry to the tower. I will send Hob and several others into the town to set such fires as they can to distract others from our presence here. If we find the oil we need in the tower, then we can begin to go about this business."

Exiting through the sallyport, Merriya quickly assembled the remaining Condottiere and sent them into the city to meet with their captain. She then found Hob and instructed him to take two other men with him into the town and try and find something that could be used to set several diversionary fires. Finally, she led the remaining soldiers into the city, placing them along the wall to either side of the door in the base of the tower, with instructions to wait for Berholt to open it. That done, Merriya then leaned against the expanse of the tower wall, her axe beside her, and waited for the others to do their duties.

Berholt gave his six remaining Portezzans a few words of whispered instruction then led off, leaving Cozmo to bring up the rear. Merriya watched them pace away to the base of the stair, then disappear behind the bulk of the stair as they climbed back up towards its top right above her head.

Berholt stopped them half the way up and snuck up further himself. He moved very quietly for such a big man. He had reclaimed his morning star, although he still carried the buckler he had liberated from the body of the Arbino skirmisher.

Berholt popped only his head above the floor level of the wall. The brazier at the stair head lit the area brightly, and he would be well illuminated if he moved any further. He looked around very carefully.

To his left twenty or thirty yards away two Arbino militiamen stood. They were poor guards, standing in the light and talking to each other, but they had no reason to expect assault.

To his right, Berholt saw that the tower was isolated from the wall. The wall-walk ended five feet from the door into the tower, and the gap was bridged by a large heavy plank that could be easily removed if the wall was taken by assault. This made it hard for a successful force to work its way along a wall once it had gained a foothold. There was a crossbow slit to one side of the heavy door into the tower room, and Berholt could see light inside -- the room was clearly occupied.

Looking up, Berholt couldn't see anyone moving on the top of the tower. There were a couple of braziers up there, and a murder hole set over the door would make it easy to defend the tower, but no guards were visible.

"No time like the present," he muttered to himself. Adjusting the kettle-hat he had stolen from the Arbino skirmisher, he boldly walked up the stair and along the wall towards the two guards. They saw him and turned as he approached.

"What news?" Berholt called out, coming closer. "I hear you had some action here earlier tonight?"

"Garn," one of the men spat. "A bloody business. Somebody got it into their head to sally, but ... AWK!" His speech cut short as Berholt snapped his morningstar forward, cracking him in the side of the head. The militiaman dropped like a stone, out like a light with a deep dent in his helmet. His companion barely had time to throw his arms up as Berholt attempted to treat him likewise. His unarmoured forearm snapped like a green twig from the blow, and he passed out from the pain.

Whistling tunelessly, Berholt grabbed one man by belt and collar and heaved him over a merlon, then treated his companion likewise. There were two almost inaudible sodden thumps as they hit the ground forty feet below.

Berholt glanced around, but no alarm had been given, and he could see no enemies alert or otherwise. He started to trot back to the stair, but controlled himself to a slow walk. Nothing attracts attention as quickly as a running man.

"Cozmo -- take one man and stand on the wall walk. Act like guards. If anyone asks you anything, act dumb. I'll be right back."

Cozmo's long face got a little longer as he picked one of his men and stood in plain sight on the wall. "We're all gonna die," he muttered.

Berholt couldn't hear the comment, as he was trotting down the stairs. It took him but a moment to find Merriya and report.

"... if we could find a ram or a ladder, we could take the tower as well. With a ram we might take down the door; a ladder and we could get from the wall to the tower roof. They are not alert, and we hold the wall without anyone the wiser."

Merriya nodded, "A good plan, taking the tower would aid us greatly. But we are without ram or ladder, and I do think the timbers we used to cross the moat to be too mud-slick to be much use."

Berholt glanced around. "There has to be something we could use as a ram. It grates me that we have the initiative, the surprise, and we cannot get at the foe."

Glancing across the broad avenue that bordered the wall, she gave a slight sigh, "Hob has not yet returned, and once his work is done, those in the tower will be alerted to something being wrong. I..." Merriya paused and looked up at the brazier on the wall walk. "Master Berholt, what is the nature of that lamp?"

"The brazier at the head of the stair is nought but a huge oil lamp of a sort. Four or five wicks and a reservoir inside; it must contain a gallon or more of oil. As for the other flames, they are tarred reed bundles tightly bound."

Merriya chuckled, "Then what do you say of going into the tower by this door, as opposed to going from the top?"

Berholt frowned. "As well one way as the other, but how?"

"A helmet full of oil and a bundle of reeds should enable up to set fire to this door, would it not? And if you were on the wallwalk perhaps you could gain entry to the tower, telling them the wall has been taken?"

"What, stand on the wall and tell them that it is full of enemies? I cannot see how that would enduce them to open the door! And as for burning this lower door down, I doubt that would work quickly. A stout oaken timber will burn for hours before it weakens; this door might stand all night with a bonfire against it. We need a ram to break it.

Then Berholt smacked himself in the head. "The rope! Did you not see, when we crossed the moat, that the sortie had strung two ropes to ease their climb up the steep sides? We could rig a simple harness with the rope -- some rope handles tied to those timbers in the moat, and their mud-slick sides will be irrelevant! That will make a ram capable of taking any door down, I warrant!"

Merriya nodded, "Alright then, you remain here Master Berholt, and I shall fetch your timbers and ropes." That said she quickly assembled several men of her company and led them out the sallyport to the moat.

Pulling up the mucky timbers and the ropes in the pitch dark was ugly work, especially trying to keep quiet. It seemed like forever before she mustered her men to bring two of the logs and the ropes back up and through the sallyport, but it probably was no more than ten minutes. She found Cozmo waiting at the sallyport.

"Master Berholt replaced me on the wall, in case somezing should go wrong up zere," Cozmo said. Not more than a few moments later, Berholt came trotting down.

"Sir Knight, I had an idea for the best use of the rams. We want the men upstairs to open the door, eh? What do you say to this -- you make a ram and work on the door here at the base of the tower. I and Cozmo stand guard on the walls like Arbino soldiery, with the rest of my squad hidden on the stair. If the door falls quickly you take the tower by storm from below. If it does not, the sound of your ram will alert the tower. If we act like Arbino militia, we may be able to use your assault as a distraction and enter by a subterfuge. What say you?"

"Hah..." Merriya gave Berholt a sly grin, "An excellent idea."

Moments later Merriya had her company in position.The heavy log was bound with rope, leaving rope loops as handles on the sides. Merriya's six men held the handles while she stood by the door, ready to direct and to be first in when the door fell.

"Now, men, heave!"

With a loud shout and a twisting of the hips and shoulders, the heavy, mud-slick timber was sent crashing against the tower door. The stout door held, and the collision echoed down the dark street.

Walking back and forth beside the struggling soldiers, Merriya watched the top of the tower carefully, looking for any sign of movement, while exhorting her troops to even greater efforts. "Again! Again! We almost have them!" She motioned towards the lower door into the tower with each command.

At the second blow the door nearly broke, but still resisted.

At the third blow Merriya heard some noise above, and shouting.

At the fourth blow the door came off its pintles as the stout lock broke. At the same time Merriya heard a cry and then a loud crash as someone fell from the wall to the cobblestones only five paces to their left. The door was open. Merriya leaped inside. It was absolutely pitch dark.

Stepping to one side and away from the door, Merriya waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Outside, distant and dim, she heard Berholt yelling "Attack, attack!"

Above on the wall-walk, Berholt had hardly been able to hold himself still, waiting for Merriya's assault. Cozmo was even worse, so Berholt had put him farther away from the tower door.

Crash! The ram from below was loud in the still night.

Crash! A second blow. The door was clearly strong, if it could resist a ram that way. Berholt waved Cozmo to stay back, and he went to the brazier at the head of the stairs to look down. It was what the guard would have done anyway, he said to himself. Below him he could dimly see the moving forms of Merriya's men, although in the dark street he could not tell who was whom. Berholt glanced to his right, down the stairs. The gleam of eyes reflected in torchlight showed the position of his six men. They stayed in place, hidden from the wallwalk.

To his left the door into the tower opened. "What the hell is going on out here," a loud voice yelled. The interior room was lit, but Berholt could not see any details from his position.

At that moment there was another CRASH as the ram hit the lower door again.

"There's someone down there," Berholt yelled. "Someone with a ram!" He moved towards the door, pointing down. The figure he approached was a sturdily-built man in brigandine, with a kettle-hat. The man looked down, then up at Berholt.

"Wait, ..."

"Attack, attack!!" Berholt shouted. He sprinted the last few paces towards the door. His shoulder caught the other man in the gut. With a despairing cry the militiaman fell off the wooden ramp. His cry ended a second or two later when he hit the cobblestones forty feet below.

Berholt burst into the tower room. Three guards stood, caught off-guard at his sudden entrance. They grabbed their weapons and attacked.

Berholt smashed his stolen falchion into the chest of the first one, his thick-bladed sword slashing the cover on his brigandine and knocking the breath out of the militiaman. Berholt took a vicious slash on the arm from the man on his left, and barely ducked a swipe at his head from the third man. Behind him he heard running feet on the walkway; if he could hold these men for but a few moments they could take the tower. Berholt rushed the man who had hit him and chopped deep into his thigh, under the armour. Blood gushed and the foe collapsed, but the remaining militiaman stabbed Berholt deep in the thigh. The blow was agony, and he barely kept his feet, parrying a second blow with his buckler, and a third.

Then the man was cut down from behind, and the tower was theirs. Five of his men had made it into the room now. One of them was weaponless -- he clutched a crossbow bolt sunk deep into his arm, weeping in pain. Cozmo was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Cozmo?" Berholt gasped through gritted teeth.

"Crossbowmen above," one of his men answered, carefully sawing at the crossbow bolt in his friend. "He was hit in the leg or the gut at the head of the stairs and fell. Ain't seen him since."

Berholt looked about the room. There was a steep ladder leading up to a trapdoor in the roof. "Quick, then! Gianni, Peitro--guard the door. Bar it if you have to, but only as a last resort. Diacci -- wait until we rush the roof, then get down to Sir Merriya and tell her to bring her men up immediately."

Berholt grabbed up his fallen buckler and strode for the ladder, his hosen dark with blood from his thigh wound. "The rest of you, grab your cinquedeas and follow me. This will be knife-work. If we don't take the roof fast, we are trapped. Don't hesitate -- they have crossbows, and cannot reload quickly."

Berholt climbed awkwardly to the roof, braced himself, and glanced at the others. Their eyes were bright with fear and adrenaline, but they were as ready as he could expect.

"Now!!" Berholt smashed his shoulder against the trap door and rolled onto the roof. Crossbows twanged, but his sudden movement had caused them to fire to soon. One bolt stuck in his shield; the other thunked into the wooden trap door.

Berholt leaped up from his knees, although his wounded leg almost buckled. With a shout he ran at one of the crossbowmen, who dropped his unloaded crossbow and tried to draw a knife. Berholt grabbed him thigh and arm, and with a heave he tossed the crossbowman screaming over the wall. The other man had also dropped his crossbow, but as two of Berholt's men climbed out the trapdoor he dropped to his knees, begging for mercy.

Below, inside the base of the tower, Merriya took a long moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Darkness so deep that Merriya could see nothing more than a pace from the door, with everything else hidden by wall of solid black.

"All of you," she called to her troop, "follow me." Holding her axe out in front of her, Merriya begain to take slow, shuffling steps towards the far side of the tower, hoping to find some evidence of a stairwell.

The men crowded in. Merriya quickly bumped into a barrel, and then another. Then still another.

Merriya stopped suddenly and sniffed at the air. She smelled the musty, dry smell of dust and old wood, but little else. "All of you," she called, trying to keep her voice even, "Get out, now." Taking a careful step backwards, she then hooked one of the barrels with her axe blade. With a heave of her shoulders she pulled it over, then rolled it towards the door.

Once outside, Merriya stood the barrel on its end again with some effort, then brought her axe crashing down to stave in the top. The barrel was full of wine.

Running feet came towards her from the stair. It was one of Berholt's Portezzans. Merriya couldn't remember his name.

"Sir Merriya, Sir Merriya! Sir Berholt says to bring your men up immediately! We've taken the tower, although there are crossbowmen on the roof of it."

"Cok's Bones!" Merriya swore, feeling a little frustrated. All night it had been the same, either nothing was happening or everything. Turning to her company, she pointed at two of them. "Davey, James, remain here. If possible try and roll a few barrels out, we'll need them soon." Gesturing to the rest to follow here, she set out for the stairs, following close on the heels of the Portezzan.

As they moved away from the tower, Merriya took a quick look around. Hob abd his two companions still hadn't returned, and she was beginning to get worried.

As they trotted for the stair, Merriya nearly stumbled over a body lying on the stones. It was Cozmo. A crossbow bolt was sunk deep into his thigh, but his neck was clearly broken. She glanced up -- he must have fallen from the stair, nearly forty feet above, onto the street cobblestones. His eyes stared up at the sky.

Merriya paused for a moment, staring at Cozmo's corpse. Kneeling, she whispered a short prayer and then gently closed his eyes. "Let's move," she said brusquely to the remaining members of her command.

As Merriya trotted panting up to the top of the stairs she saw that the tower door was indeed open, and two of Berholt's Portezzans held it. She also saw some torches bobbing on the wall, approaching from the tower at the other end.

"Quickly," she shouted, "to the tower!"

Merriya and her three men followed the Portezzan in.

"Pull in the planks," she ordered, and they quickly did so. Glancing around inside, Merriya saw a typical tower room, polygonal on one side and flat on the city side, with doors on both sides. There were crossbow loops on the polygonal sides, and a larger window on the city side that was open. There seemed to be no way downward.

There was a table and some benches, some bodies, and a ladder up. The trap door at the top was open, and as she watched she saw Berholt start climbing awkwardly down. His jupon sleeve and hosen were soaked with blood, and his left arm seemed to work but poorly.

"Sir Knight," Berholt saluted, his face half-way between a grin and a grimace of pain. "We've taken the tower and roof. I've one casualty, Sandimo Boccio," he waved at a man with his arm bound up tightly, "and my Corporal is missing, so I have but four men here. The garrison here was four men, with two men at the roof. We've taken a prisoner; the rest of them are dead or disabled."

Merriya gave Berholt a quick nod, "Well done Master Berholt..." She paused for a moment and swallowed slowly, "I am afraid the fate of Corporal Cozmo may not please you, for he fell from the wall during your assault.

Berholt nodded, face grim.

"As for me," Merriya continued, "Hob has not yet returned, and soldiers are approaching from the far wall. The only good news I have at the moment is that the base of the tower is used to store wine... which burns quite well."

One of Berholt's men, standing at the firing loop, called out. "Torches coming, Sir!"

Berholt turned and limped to the slit window. "How many?"

"Five that I see, Sir."

Berholt glanced at Merriya. "Can you use a crossbow, Sir Knight?"

Merriya shook her head with a sigh, "I am sorry, Master Berholt, but these weapons are not well known in my country."

"Hmmm. Well, there must be a couple of men in our group that can. Even without much skill we can drive them back easily enough -- they have no cover, and no way to get at us."

"Then let us do so." Merriya gestured at the far door, "And after we have finished with them, we can make use of the wine stored below." Hefting her axe, she shook her head again. "The gods no longer smile on us I fear," she said in a low voice.

Berholt frowned at her, then turned and gave orders. There were several crossbows in the room, and two on the tower above. At Berholt's command two of the Portezzans started firing from the arrowslit, alternating with each other while the loaded, and the other two of his men fired from the roof above. Shouts and yells came from beyond the door.

It was only a few moments before one of the Portezzans shouted down through the trapdoor from the roof, "They're running, Sir!"

Berholt shouldered aside the crossbowman at the arrowslit, looking out into the night. "Open the door!"

Merriya's men looked at her for confirmation.

"Do it," she said with a nod.

The opened door revealed two bodies and a number of dropped torches. The far tower was a hundred yards away, and they could see that its door was open, and a half-dozen figures were making their way hastily back. Two were being assisted by some of their number.

Berholt came to look over Merriya's shoulder. "We have some time, now, but not much. They'll give the alarm. As soon as they can, they'll muster a real force against us. We must do as much damage as we can now."

Merriya nodded, "Yes. There are number of wine barrels below, lets use them to fire as much as we can, and then with draw our remaing number back through the sallyport ere the coming of Prime." Turning from the door, she motioned to her remaining troops. "Come, we still have much to do before we leave."

Berholt looked around the tower room. "I've only got four men left. I'll leave two who can handle crossbows up here, holding the tower. We must burn it if we can; it will make a weak point in the wall. A barrel or two in this room and they'll not be able to save it.

"Also," he continued, grabbing up his morningstar with his good arm, "we may be glad to hold the tower as long as possible. It blocks our retreat, if we think on getting out of here alive."

Raising her axe to her shoulder, Merriya looked over her shoulder at Berholt. "A good point, if we keep our wits about us, we should soon be away from this."

She led her three men back down to where she had left two others on guard. One of Berholt's two remaining Portezzans had grabbed a pair of torches, and by their light it was clear that the lower part of the tower was a storeroom of some sort. It held dozens of barrels; all types and sizes. Some were clearly marked as grain; some were ground flour, others were wine and olive oil.

Berholt and Merriya stood guard as the troops bounded to follow their orders. They smashed open two small casks of oil and spread the contents all over the room, even while others rolled the larger winecasks into the street.

"That one, and that one there," Berholt pointed at two large houses fronting the street. "Take the ram, break down the door, kick the winecask into the open door, and throw in a torch. No looting -- in bare minutes we'll be up to our armpits in Arbini."

"Yes," Meriya nodded," and then we are back out the sallyport and to the safety of our own lines, we have seen enough action for this night."

Five minutes later the street was chaos. Townsmen ran in the street, trying to save their belongings. Women screaming in fury and fear. One burgher had tried to resist when his door had been smashed in; he lay in a pool of blood where his family had dragged him after Merriya's man had cut him down. The two houses were well alight; sheets of flame in the entrance made it unlikely that they would be put out.

Merriya's men came back from the street to where Berholt and Merriya stood guard over the tower storeroom. Only just in time -- pounding hoofbeats sounded over the yells of the small crowd and the crackling flames. Into the light of the burning buildings came a half-dozen horsemen. One of them was in gilded armour on a warhorse; the other five were Pecheneg mercenaries; light horsemen with bucklers and light throwing spears.

"Berholt," Merriya cried over the din, "to the sallyport! Quickly now or all is lost!"

"I've got two men up in the tower!" Berholt shouted back. "You light the storeroom and fall back, I'll get to my men. I'll see you at the other side!"

"Right!" Merriya turned to what was left of her company and made a sweeping motion with her left arm. "Move!" she shouted, "Get to the sallyport!" Stepping back away from the wall, she snatched up a torch and ran to the tower door. Stepping inside the storeroom, she then touched her torch to the pooled oil. Streaking flames fanned out from her torch; cloth and oil-soaked wood ignited. Within seconds the room was an inferno, heat beating on Merriya's face. Taking a step backwards from the leaping flames, she then whirled and ran for the hidden recess of the sallyport.

Berholt ran limping for the stairs. One of the Pecheneg horsemen spotted him and goaded his horse into a run, throwing a javelin with a whipping motion. Berholt dived underneath the dart and came up running. The horseman reared his mount and spun it as if on a swivel, throwing another javelin, but Berholt fell flat and it too missed. He made it to the stairs and started clambering up.

Shifting her axe around, Merriya fell into a fighting stance facing the oncoming horsemen.

Three of the Pecheneg horse came riding towards Merriya, readying their javelins. They rode in a loose line, in the harrassing maneuver that she had seen them use against heavy cavalry. The first one to come wheeled a dozen paces from her and threw his javelin.

Merriya dodged the incoming bolt which stuck into the door inches over her head. The second and third horsemen followed after and also threw their javelins at her, but they did not come as close to her in the dark alcove of the sallyport entrance as the first.

Ka-BOOM!! Fire gouted out the storeroom door as one of the barrels of wine exploded like a bomb. Flames were licking a dozen feet out the door now. The two houses opposite were also burning fiercely. The Pecheneg horses shied, and they fell back.

More hoofbeats drummed on the cobblestones, and another squad of horsemen arrived. These were Allemani mercenaries, more heavily armed than the Pecheneg light horse; they wore half-armour and used crossbows and maces.

Merriya eyes widened at the sight. As much as she wanted to see Berholt to safety, trying to hold her ground here would be suicide. Whispering a prayer for Berholt and his men, she turned and dove into the dark passage of the sallyport. The change from flickering torchlight to sudden darkness was an abrupdt one. Holding one hand out, Merriya quickly followed the curve of the passage until she exited the outer wall. Standing along the edge of the wall were the four remaining men of their troop holding their bills, looking at her with sweat and grime streaked faces.

"All of you," Merriya called, "across the moat and back to our lines, we must quit this place!"

Turning back to the sallyport, Merriya hefted her axe, waiting to see who would exit... Berholt and his company, or more Arbino militia?

Nobody came out. Merriya's four men withdrew across the moat, waiting for her there. The night grew lighter; great clouds of smoke and sparks were now flying from the tower. Now towering flames grew, illuminating Merriya's men on the other side of the moat. But nobody shot at them.

"There!" One of Merriya's men cried out, voice indistinct over the crackling of the fire. Looking back at the moat, Merriya saw where her men pointed. One of Berholt's men was laboring in the moat, assisting another one who appeared to be wounded. They must have come down the wall on the other side of the tower from where Merriya waited at the sallyport.

"Help them cross!" Merriya yelled as she ran to the edge of the moat. Sliding down the grassy slope, she hit the filthy water with a splash, stopping her descent with the haft of her axe. Running to support the wounded man, she looked over to his companion. "Berholt! Where is Master Berholt?"

"I don' know, Lady! Wasn' he wiz you?"

"No!" Merriya looked around wildly, "What happened back there?"

"A squad o' crossbowmen wiz pavises come along ze wall-walk from ze ozzer tower," the Portezzan panted. "We close up ze door zo zey can't get in, an' we shoot at zem. Zen ze floor get hot, an' smoke start everywhere, an' zo we get out. We leave ze tower by ze ozzer door -- zere are no enemies zere, but no stairs eizzer. We look down in ze street, but it is chaos -- two houses burning, and more look like zey gonna go, an' full of horsemen and militia. So Pasticci an' I we go over ze wall, holding on ze edge an' droppin'. I land okay, but Pasticci, he hurt his leg bad."

Two of Merriya's men slid down into the moat and helped the wounded man. He appeared to have injured his leg in a fall, although the flickering light made it hard to see if it was broken or sprained.

Merriya stopped, looking back at the wall of Arbino where smoke billowed and the flickering light of fires was clearly visible. "Berholt? Hob?" she whispered with a swallow. Turning back to the Portezzans, she gave the man a push on the shoulder, "GO! Get across the moat, get with my troop and return to our lines!" That said, Merriya began to slosh back across the moat, struggling to climb the bank and reach the narrow strip of land that lay under the walls of Arbino.

"Lady, no! No, you can't do anything there!" One of her men grabbed her arm. "Look, the tower is totally alight! If he is in there, he is dead!"

Flames were shooting from the tower now, forty feet or more into the air. Every crossbow loop gouted flame. The heat beat upon their faces even where they stood.

Pulling her arm free with a growl, Merriya struggled back up the bank of the moat. Pausing to regain her breath, she stared at the inferno visible above the edge of the wall. Merriya took a deep breath and made her way along the wall to the entrance of the sally port.

When Merriya made it back up to the sally port, it was no longer dark. The short passage was illuminated by the crack she had left the door open, and wind was whipping past her through the narrow space between door and wall. The door was hot to the touch. Merriya looked around the crack into a scene from hell. She could not see anything beyond the sheets of flame that blocked the door, or hear anything but the hungry roaring of fire.

Merriya stared as if entranced at the leaping flames, heedless of the heat and fumes. Finally, when it became apparent that there was nothing she could do, she turned away from the door and made her way out to the moat. Slipping and sliding her way down the slope, Merriya slowly splashed her way through the slimy water and ascended the far bank.

Her four men had improvised a litter for the crippled Portezzan, and were waiting for her. Pausing on the edge of the moat, Merriya turned to look one last time at the walls of Arbino, blazing brightly in the pre-dawn darkness. Resting her axe on her shoulder, Merriya started the long walk back to the palisade that marked her own lines.

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