Olan Thorensen - Cast Under an Alien Sun

Once the wagon was empty, Carnigan untied the horses, letting their reins fall to the ground. Being well trained and used to working with people, the horses stood in place even with the surrounding turmoil. With some help, Carnigan pushed the wagon onto its side to take its place in the forming barrier. Carnigan then led the two horses to another gap, pulled out a large-bladed knife, and slit both their throats. The bodies collapsed where they had stood and, like the bales and wagon, became part of the barricade.

Yozef joined those pulling pews from the cathedral. They were solid wood, about twelve feet long, a perfect size for the barricade, and two people of moderate strength could carry them. Yozef and another man formed a “team” and had just finished placing their fifth pew when someone shouted, “No more pews!”

Sweat rolled off Yozef’s face from both exertion and fear. He looked around for the first time in perhaps fifteen minutes. The results were impressive. Ugly, but impressive for the available time. A three-sided barricade about forty yards along each side faced the main gate. It was a jumble of objects that would slow anyone trying to climb over. In most places, the barricade was four to five feet high, but there were still obvious low spots and even a few outright gaps.

Another yell came, this time from someone on top of the rampart by the main gate. “Here they come!”

The second of silence at the news was followed by chaotic cries and a sense of impending panic, until Denes, the more senior of the fighting men, and some of the abbey staff shouted and shoved people into position. Yozef followed Denes back to the rampart. They could see a large body of raiders coming into view a quarter mile away.

“Three groups of about a hundred men each,” Denes said. “Probably means they’re planning to hit us at three places.”

Yozef could have sworn there were three or four times that many—all armed with a hodge-podge of muskets, swords, spears, and various bladed weapons. They paused as they cleared the shrubbery along the road and began to spread out.

“There!” said Denes, nodding toward a group of villagers just emerging from the tree-lined road from the abbey to Abersford. There were about fifteen of them, mainly women, two of who carried babies. Three men held spears and helped the women run.

Yozef recognized Cadwulf. He was one of the decoy men. Several of the women looked young and were scantily dressed, as if surprised by the alarm and hadn’t had time to put on clothes. One woman was naked from the waist up. Even from his distance, he could see her breasts bouncing as she ran. The cries of fear and for help were audible. Occasionally, one of the women fell, and a man helped her to her feet to run again.

Phony falls? Yozef suspected. Nice job, Cadwulf , but don’t overdo it.

There were also several individuals or couples at various distances from the abbey. None of these were part of the lure, and some wouldn’t make it to the gate.

The leader of the Benhoudi, Omir Abulli, was ambivalent as he followed Abelan’s orders. He and his men had profited greatly from this venture. When they returned home, they’d be honored for the booty they brought back and have stories to tell for generations. It had also cost them a sixth of their men. The Benkarsta leaders always sent Benhoudi men into the exposed parts of the raids, and too often Adalan’s men had found themselves picking over what Benkarsta clansmen left after skimming off the best.

Neither of the Benkarsta leaders had shared their plans with Abulli, but he believed this might be the last raid before returning home. Subtle changes in tone and topics from the two Adalans made Abulli think this was the last chance for major spoils.

Abulli led the group of a hundred men assigned to attack the right section of the wall and was as surprised as Adalan to see the abbey gate still open and islanders running for safety. He sensed the rise in anticipation in his men as they saw a group of women, some partially clothed, trying to make it to the gate. He saw Adalan staring at the open gate and knew what was going through the Benkarsta leader’s mind—should they rush the gate? Then flags signaled to disperse for the attack as previously planned. Adalan was ignoring the gate! A rush of anger colored Abulli’s face.

Maybe the gate would get closed before they could reach it, or, if not secured, maybe they could fight their way through. It was a chance for fewer losses than fighting over the walls. The possibility of this being the last raid, the overbearing attitudes of the Benkarsta, and the chance he saw for his men to be first at the spoils on this raid coalesced into a decision. He turned to face the men in his group, raised his sword, and waited until his men in the second front wall group saw his raised sword. Then he pointed his sword at the gate and screamed, “For the Benhoudi! All Benhoudi, follow me!” And took off at a run, straight for the gate.

With little hesitation, most of his men from both groups followed him. A few who hesitated joined in once they saw most of their clansmen racing to the gate. The fewer numbers of Benkarsta men lingered seconds longer, then half of them followed.

Abel Adalan saw his carefully considered and drilled plan evaporate in seconds. He slashed his sword in front of himself, as if to decapitate the Benhoudi leader. Gods curse the Benhoudi dogs! The plan was now for shit. Or was it? He forced calm on himself. Maybe the Benhoudi could get into the abbey grounds using the main gate. Even if the gate closed first, they might still have enough presence of mind to regroup and carry out the wall assaults. The third group of a hundred was deploying as planned to breach the western wall, while most of the islanders concentrated on the frontal attacks. This third group consisted of his own clansmen, who, unlike the Benhoudi, were disciplined and held to their orders. He waved to the leader of that group to continue as planned, then had subordinates gather the Benkarsta men who had been part of the frontal assault groups but had not followed the Benhoudi. Those he kept with him, as he moved closer to observe the action.

Once again on the rampart, Denes had a hand on Yozef’s forearm as they watched the raiders. His fingers dug into Yozef’s flesh. Most of the raiders in the two groups facing the abbey front wall had broken from their original trajectory and were now charging directly at the gate, Denes’s grip squeezed harder and almost brought Yozef to his knees.

“By merciful God! By whatever gods, they’re taking the bait!” Denes burst out.

He turned back toward the courtyard. Most of the people watched him with eyes fearful, resolute, or defiant. “It worked! Here they come. No one fire until I do! Do you understand? No one fire until I do! Watch the fighting men near you, if you’re uncertain. Do what they do!”

The frozen figures exploded into action, racing to positions, climbing over the barricade if they were in the courtyard, grabbing for available weapons, and older and younger islanders came out of the cathedral and other buildings from where they had been sent for safety. There was no safety. All knew it. They would live or die at the barricade.

Denes jumped off the rampart onto the courtyard ground, Yozef following, and Denes ran to the open gate, shouting for Carnigan. The large man was fast for his size and nearly trampled several people in reaching Denes.

“Keep Yozef with you. Alive, if possible.”

Well, that’s reassuring , a part of Yozef’s mind noted.

Carnigan grabbed Yozef’s arm and ran back to a large gap in the barricade facing the main gate. Yozef barely kept his feet under him to prevent Carnigan from dragging him. Carnigan took up a musket leaning against the inside of the barricade. Next to it was a second musket, the battle axe that Yozef doubted he could lift off the ground, a dented and rusty shield, and several spears of different lengths.