Tal glanced back to the boys standing next to the catapults. “Can you rewind those things?” he called down.
One of the older boys nodded enthusiastically and shouted, “I watched them load it!” He grabbed up a long pole and fitted it into a notch in a gear and yelled to the other boys, “Come on, give me your weight!’’
The boys piled on and levered the simple arm of the catapult back to its original position. One of the women in a building nearby ran over to help. Suddenly all the women and children were there, rewinding and setting the catapults, locking down the throwing arms.
“Put anything you can find in there that can do some damage!” shouted Tal. To Creed he said, “I wished we’d known we’d get a second round off. I’d have ordered more rocks brought inside.’’
“No sense worrying about what we might have done,” said Creed. “Better to worry about what Raven is going to do next.’’
“So, when will he make his next move?’’
Creed looked around and seemed to be thinking for a long time. Eventually, he said, “I think he’ll wait until nightfall. If he comes at us in darkness, we lose some of the advantages we have now. He can get his ramps down and maybe our archers won’t be as accurate while he’s doing that. Maybe he’ll slip a small company over to the east wall and get a few men over while most of his boys are pounding on the west gate.’’
Creed’s prediction turned out to be apt; throughout the afternoon, the defenders could hear the sound of axes and hammers echoing through the woods, but no attack came. Then at sundown, as the last rays of light were reflected off clouds high above the western horizon, the sounds of building ceased. For long minutes the villagers seemed to be holding their breath. The breeze rustled the branches, and birds chirped their evening song, but otherwise all was silent. Then a low rumbling sound, the sound of boots cracking twigs, and the snort of horses could be heard. A moment later a long wooden bridge emerged from the trees, and after that came the turtle. It looked like a flat boat with square ends, about twenty feet long, and the men who carried it walked in a line, each man with his hands above his head lifting it overhead. Tal grabbed his bow, though he judged the distance too far for a decent shot in the fading light. Then the men carrying the turtle turned beneath the wooden shell to face the wall and started walking forward, those with the wooden bridge falling in behind.
“Will arrows have any effect?” Tal asked Creed.
“That’s fresh-cut wood; damn close to green. If we had some naphtha or oil that would stick and burn, maybe, but . . .” Creed shrugged. “We might get it to char in places, but it won’t catch fire.’’
An arrow whistled off the wall on the other side of the gate, striking the ground a few yards in front of the advancing turtle. Tal cried, “Save the arrows!” Then he turned back to Creed. “I have a plan,” he said.
“Good,” said Creed. “I always like it when a captain has a plan; makes getting killed a lot less random.’’
“Take some men and pull down the bracing on the gate.’’
Creed’s forehead furrowed. “You want the gate to fail?’’
“At the right time.’’
Creed nodded. He turned and shouted to a group of men nearby, “Follow me!’’
They quickly set to dismantling a series of braces and reinforcing timbers that had been put in place to make the gate that much harder to breach. Talon looked from the men frantically pulling away the supports to the turtle advancing across the ground outside. It reached the first line of pits and halted, the men underneath waiting as those behind brought forward the bridge.
“Arrows!” Tal shouted.
Bowmen along the ramparts arced arrows high into the darkening sky, most landing harmlessly, though a shout and a scream suggested that some damage had been done. Tal didn’t think he was going to have any success with his archers, but he knew Raven would think it suspicious if the defenders didn’t harass the attackers while they bridged the first trench.
Raven’s men grunted with the exertion as they quickly ran the bridge out over the trench. The men in the turtle backed up, then moved in file until they were end-on to the bridge and quickly hurried across the first trench. When they reached the edge of the second, they turned again, providing as much cover as they could, and a second bridge emerged from the woods.
Tal could see Raven exhorting his men in the failing light, though he couldn’t hear exactly what he said. Torches were lit within the stockade, and Tal refined his idea. He turned and shouted down to Jasquenel’s son, a youth named Tansa, “Pile as much flammable material as you can around the catapults, and be ready to fire them when I give you the signal.” The young man didn’t hesitate, but ran off to pass the word. Within moments, women, children, and a few older men were carrying personal items from the various log buildings and piling them around the catapult.