Arutha ran across the bailey and saw the last of the defenders on the wall overwhelmed. As he reached the midway point across the large open area, attackers leaped from the stairs and headed for the gate. Suddenly a rain of arrows came from the roofs of the buildings opposite the gate and to the last the attackers died. Then Guy was at Arutha’s side, with Amos running past.
“We can hold them off the gatehouse until they establish their own bowmen on the wall. Then our men will have to pull back.” Arutha looked up and saw that planks were being extended across the streets from the roofs of the buildings facing the bailey. When the archers quit the first line of buildings, they would pull the planks after them. The goblin host would have to use rams to break in doors, climb the stairs, and then engage the bowmen in a duel. By then the bowmen would have retreated to another line of houses. They would constantly fire down into the streets, forcing the invaders to pay for every foot gained. Over the last month, hundreds of quivers of arrows had been left under oilcloth upon those rooftops, along with replacement strings and additional bows. By Arutha’s best judgment, it would cost Murmandamus no fewer than an additional two thousand casualties to travel from the first bailey to the second.
Running toward the bailey came a squad of men with large wooden mallets. They waited before heavy barrels placed at the corners, listening for the command. For a moment it appeared they would be overwhelmed, for a sea of goblins and their allies came swarming off the walls. Then a company of horsemen swept out of a side street, rolling back the invaders.
Arrows came flying past Guy and Arutha, and the Protector said, “Their archers are in place. Sound retreat!”
A trumpet blast sounded from the squad of bowmen who were positioned halfway up the street, and the men with mallets struck the barrels, knocking small stoppers from bungs. Quickly the smell of oil mixed with the rusty odour of blood hanging in the air as the oil began slowly to leak out. The mallet-wielding soldiers at once began to race up the streets, where barrels waited at every corner.
Guy tugged at Arutha’s sleeve. “To the citadel. We begin the next phase.”
Arutha followed after Guy as the bloody house to house fighting began.
For two hours the terrible struggle continued, while Guy and Arutha watched from the first command post atop the wall of the citadel. In the city the shouts of fighting men could be heard, and the curses and screams continued unabated. At every turn in the city a company of archers waited, so that each block gained by the invaders was over the bodies of their comrades. Murmandamus would take the outer city, but he would pay a terrible price for it. Arutha revised his estimate of Murmandamus’s casualties upward to three or four thousand soldiers to reach the inner bailey and the moat about the citadel. And he would still have to deal with the inner fortifications of Armengar.
Arutha watched in fascination. It was beginning to become difficult to see clearly, as the sun had fallen behind the mountains and the city was in shadow. Night was only an hour or so away; still, he could make out most of what occurred. The unarmoured, nimble archers were moving from rooftop to rooftop, by means of long planks which they pulled after themselves. A few goblins attempted to climb the outside of buildings but were shot down by bow fire from other buildings. Guy studied the continuing battle with a keen eye. Arutha said, “This city was built for this sort of battle.”
Guy nodded. “Had I to design one to bleed an opposing army, I couldn’t have done better.” He looked hard at Arutha. “Armengar will fall, unless aid arrives within the next few hours. We have untir tomorrow morning at the longest. But we’ll cut the bastard; we’ll hurt him badly. When he marches against Tyr-Sog, he’ll have lost a third of his army.”
Arutha said, “A third? I would have said a tenth.”
With a grin devoid of humour, Guy said, “Watch and you’ll see.” The Protector of Armengar shouted to a signal man, “How much longer?”
The man waved a white and blue cloth toward the top of the citadel. Arutha looked up and saw an answering wave with a pair of yellow cloths. The soldier said, “No more than ten minutes, Protector.”
Guy thought, then said, “Launch another catapult strike at the outer bailey.” Orders were given and a shower of heavy stones was launched at the far end of the city. Softly, almost to himself, he said, “Let them think we’ve overextended our range, and maybe they’ll hurry to get inside.”
Time passed slowly, and Arutha watched as the archers retreated from roof to roof. As day faded to twilight, a company of ambushers was dashing along the street, heading for the drawbridge and outer gate of the citadel’s barbican. As the first company made for the lowered bridge, another, then a third company came into view. Guy watched as the gate commander ordered it retracted. The last soldier had just set foot upon it as it began to move across the moat. From the rooftops of the city more Armengarian archers fired down upon the invaders.