David Gemmell - Lord of the Silver Bow

‘Rely on it,’ said Helikaon.

‘Judge it finely, Golden One.’

And with that he moved off, striding towards the double doors and the courtyard beyond.

Polydorus peered through the gap in the crenellations of the ramparts. The Thrakians were gathering in the shadows of the buildings. Anger touched him, but he quelled it. Yesterday Casilla’s parents had finally agreed to the wedding – in part owing to the intervention of Laodike. She had visited the family home, and had spoken to Casilla’s mother. She had also taken a gift for the father, a golden wine goblet encrusted with red gems. This powerful link to the nobility had finally won them over. Casilla had been overjoyed, and Polydorus considered himself the luckiest man alive.

Now he felt as if he were part of some grim jest being played out by the gods. Polydorus was no fool. There were not enough men to defend the palace against the Thrakians, let alone the Mykene. Once the Thrakians gathered enough ladders to storm the walls the battle would be all but over. The fighting would be fierce and bloody, and the Eagles would take a terrible toll on the enemy, but the end was certain. Casilla would mourn for him, of course, but she was young, and her father would find another suitor.

Argurios climbed to the ramparts alongside him. ‘Any movement?’

‘They are gathering. I have not seen any Mykene yet.’

‘They will come once the gates are open.’

‘What is the battle plan?’ asked Polydorus.

‘Hold here for a while, then back to the palace itself.’

‘The palace doors are sturdy,’ observed Polydorus, ‘but they’ll not hold for long.’

‘They won’t have to,’ said Argurios. ‘I don’t intend to close them. I want the enemy funnelled towards those doors. We’ll hit them from above, and hold them in the doorway.’

‘Surely barring the palace doors would give us more time?’

‘It would,’ agreed Argurios. ‘It would also leech away the spirit of those inside, listening to the hacking of axes upon the timber. Better to face your enemy eye to eye. My father used to say a wall of men was stronger than a wall of stone. I have seen it to be true in many battles.’

Polydorus raised his head, and peered through the darkness. An arrow struck the ramparts close to his head, then ricocheted past him.

‘You are all going to die tonight!’ came a shout from the shadows. It was immediately followed by the trilling battle cry of the Thrakians.

Then came another voice. ‘Are you there, Argurios Traitor?’

‘I am here, puppy dog!’ Argurios shouted back.

‘That gladdens my heart! I will see you soon.’

‘Not while I have a sword in my hand, you gutless worm. I know you, Kolanos.

You’ll slink in the shadows while braver men die for you.’ He leaned towards Polydorus. ‘Get ready! They are coming!’

Polydorus hefted his Phrygian bow, notching a shaft to the string. All along the wall the Eagles followed his lead.

Suddenly there came the sound of pounding feet, and once more the Thrakian battle cry filled the air.

The Eagles stood and sent a volley into the charging men. Polydorus shot again, and saw a man dragging a ladder go tumbling to the ground. The ladder was swept up by the fallen man’s comrades. Volley after volley slashed into the Thrakians, but there were too few archers to turn the charge. Scores of ladders clattered against the walls. An enemy shaft bounced from Polydorus’ breastplate. Another hissed past his face.

Then the Thrakians began to storm the walls. Dropping his bow Polydorus drew his leaf-shaped short sword, and took up his shield. Beside him Argurios waited, sword in hand. ‘Move along a little,’ he said calmly. ‘Give me some fighting room.’

Polydorus edged to his right.

The first of the Thrakians appeared. Polydorus leapt forward, thrusting his sword into the man’s face. Desperately the Thrakian tried to haul himself over the ramparts, but Polydorus struck him again and he fell. Now the night was full of the sounds of battle, men screaming in pain or fury, swords ringing, shields clashing. Several warriors clambered over the battlement wall to Polydorus’

right. He rushed them, plunging his sword into the chest of the first. The blade went deep and lodged there. Unable to drag it clear Polydorus threw the man from the wall, down into the courtyard below, then hammered his shield into the face of the second. Argurios appeared alongside him, stabbing and cutting. Picking up a fallen sword Argurios tossed it to Polydorus, then swung to face a fresh attack.

All along the wall the Thrakians were gaining a foothold. The Eagles did not break, but fought on with relentless courage. Glancing along the line Polydorus saw that around a third of his men were down. Then he saw Helikaon and some thirty Eagles running across the courtyard. They surged up the battlement steps to join the fighting. The lightly armoured Thrakians fell back. Some even jumped from the walls to the street below. Others already on ladders leapt clear.

Letting his shield fall Polydorus swept up his bow and shot into the fleeing men.

A feeling of exultation swept over him. He was alive, and he had conquered.

Argurios approached him. ‘Get our wounded back into the megaron,’ he said. ‘And strip our dead of all weapons and armour. Also gather the swords and spears of the enemy. Do it swiftly, for we will not have long before the next attack.’

‘We will beat them again,’ said Polydorus. ‘We are the Eagles and we are invincible.’

The older man looked at him closely. ‘That was merely the first attack. They will come harder and faster now. Look around you. We lost fourteen men, with six others wounded. Half of the fighting men on the wall. Next time we would be overrun. That is why we will not be here next time. Now do as I say.’

All the excitement drained out of the young soldier. He ran down the rampart steps, calling out orders. Other men raced from the megaron to assist in the collection of weapons. Argurios strode along the ramparts, occasional arrows flashing by him.

Argurios moved among the defenders left on the rampart walls. Like Polydorus, they were exultant now, for they had met the enemy and vanquished him. Their spirits were high, and Argurios had no wish to douse them with cold reality. The first attack had been rushed and ill conceived, attempting to sweep over the ramparts in a wide front. Better to have come at both ends of the wall, drawing the defenders out of position, then assaulting the centre. The next charge would be better planned.

Even so, Argurios was content. This first action had lifted the hearts of the defenders, and dispirited the enemy. The confidence of the Thrakians was dented. The enemy leaders would know it was vital for them to score a swift victory, in order to repair the damage. Even now the officers would be gathered, with Agathon seeking to inspire them, building their confidence for the next assault.

He would be assuring them of victory, promising them riches. Argurios called a soldier to him. ‘Go to Prince Dios on the balcony. Tell him we will be pulling back from the wall before the next attack. Ask that he holds back his archers until the enemy reaches the courtyard. They will be massed there, and easy targets. Then go to the lord Helikaon. Fifty men with shields are to be ready to defend the palace doorway.’

Swinging his shield to his back the soldier ran down the rampart steps and across the stone courtyard.

Argurios raised his head above the ramparts. The moon was rising, silver light bathing the streets and houses. He could see the Thrakians standing ready, officers moving among them. There was still no sign of the Mykene.