Arutha remained motionless for a moment, his face flushed. He left the wall and hurried back to the tower. When he had rejoined those upon the tower, he said to Jimmy, “Go saddle the horses and get all we need for a long ride. Steal what you must from the kitchen. We may have to make a quick exit.”
Jimmy nodded and took Locklear by the sleeve, leading the other boy away. Arutha, Guy, Galain, and Amos watched as the leading edge of the invading army moved closer, coming down the canyon like a slow-moving flood.
It began as Arutha had predicted, a wave of soldiers attacking down the narrow draw. The fortress had been built as a staging point for the garrison, with little thought that it would need to withstand a massive attack from an organized army. Now just such an army advanced upon it.
Arutha joined his companions atop the tower, watching as Highcastle’s bowmen began slaughtering Murmandamus’s advance elements. Then the front ranks of the attackers opened, and goblins with heavy shields hurried forward at a crouch, forming a shield wall. Moredhel bowmen ran and took refuge behind them, then rose and began answering the archers upon the wall. The first flight of arrows took a dozen of Highcastle’s bowmen off the wall, and the attackers streamed forward. Again and again the two sides exchanged missile fire and the defenders stood firm. But the attackers continued to advance toward the wall.
Step by bloody step they came, moving past the bodies of those who had fallen. Each wave came and fell, but moved closer to the walls than the last. An archer would die and another would run forward to take his place. Then, as the sun breasted the high wall of the canyon, the attackers had halved the distance to the wall. By the time the sun had made the narrow transit from wall to wall overhead, the distance was narrowed to less than fifty yards. The next wave was unleashed.
Scaling ladders were carried forward, and the defenders exacted a heavy toll on those who carried them, but as each goblin or troll fell, another took his place carrying the ladder. At last they rested against the wall. Pole arms were employed to topple them, but others were put in place, and goblins scrambled up to be greeted by steel and flame. Then the battle of Highcastle was truly joined.
Arutha watched as the ragged defenders held again. The final wave had breasted the wall to the south of the barbican, but the reinforcement company had filled the breach and driven them back. With sunset, the trumpets sounded withdraw, and Murmandamus’s host pulled back up the canyon.
Guy swore. “I’ve never seen such carnage and waste in the name of duty.”
Arutha was forced to agree. Amos said, “Bloody hell! These border lads might be the dregs and outcasts of your armies, Arutha, but they’re a tough and salty crew. I’ve never seen men give better account of themselves.”
Arutha agreed. “You don’t serve on the border for long and not get toughened. Few big battles, but constant fighting. Still, they’re doomed if Brian keeps this up.”
Galain said, “We should leave before dawn if we are to get away, Arutha.”
The Prince nodded. “I’m going to speak one last time with Brian. If he still refuses to listen to reason, I’ll ask permission to quit the garrison.”
“And if he doesn’t?” asked Amos.
Arutha said, “Jimmy’s already got us provisions and a way out. We’ll leave on foot if we must.”
The Prince left the tower and hurried back to where he had last seen Highcastle. Looking about, he saw no sign of the Baron. Inquiring of a guard, he was told, “Last I saw of the Baron was an hour ago. He might be down in the courtyard with the dead and wounded, Highness.”
The soldier’s words were prophetic, for Arutha found Brian, Lord Highcastle, with the dead and wounded. The chirurgeon was kneeling over him, and when the Prince approached, he looked up, shaking his head. “He’s dead.”
Arutha spoke to an officer standing by the body. “Who’s second?”
The man said, “Walter of Gyldenholt, but I think he fell during the overrunning of the forward position.”
“Then who?”
“Baldwin de la Troville and I, Highness, are both ranked behind Walter. We arrived upon the same day, so who is senior I do not know.”
“Who are you?”
“Anthony du Masigny, formerly Baron of Calry, Highness.”
Arutha recognized the man from Lyam’s coronation after hearing the name. He had been one of Guy’s supporters. He still affected a trim appearance, but two years on the frontier had rid him of much of the manner of the court dandy he had displayed at Rillanon.
“If you’ve no objections, send for de la Troville and Guy du Bas-Tyra. Have them meet with us in the Baron’s chambers.”
“I’ve no objections,” said du Masigny. He surveyed the carnage along the walls and in the courtyard. “In fact I would welcome a little sanity and order about now.”