Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

“I have to do my duty. Sir Thomas ordered me to get to Scotland and make sure it is safe,” I said.

“I understand,” said Celia. “And I would go with you if I could. But I have a responsibility to my people.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, surprised at how much the news disappointed me. I knew she couldn’t go, but still wanted her to. What was wrong with me?

“I’m with you,” Maryam said. “I will do all I can to help you finish this. I will help you keep the prophet’s cup safe.”

I smiled my thanks at her and looked at Robard.

“What?” he asked, surprised. “Did I not tell you earlier I was in this to the end? Nothing has changed. I still don’t believe it. But I knew you just weren’t carrying papers. I thought maybe you’d stolen something, like gold, and was going to tell you to just give it back, whatever it was. Then we met Sir Hugh, and I realized that whatever you had of his, he probably didn’t deserve it anyway. But I didn’t think you thought you were carrying a priceless relic. I still don’t. It looks like a vase to me!”

Despite myself I couldn’t help laughing, and for the briefest instant I wondered what I had ever done to deserve friends like these. I was no longer angry with Sir Thomas for the burden he’d given me, for without it I would never have met these three. That could not be measured.

“There is something else I need to tell you,” I said.

Robard looked at Maryam. “You realize he’s probably going to tell us his tunic is made from the Virgin Mother’s veil or something.”

“Robard!” Maryam said, shocked at his blasphemy.

“What?” He threw up his arms and shrugged, feigning innoceNce.

“That’s not it. I carry only one relic. As far as I know. The way my luck is going, Sir Thomas’ battle sword could belong to King Arthur. But there is something else you should know.” And I told them all about my encounters with King Richard and his guards. Every detail. I wanted to cleanse my soul of all my secrets, and once I got going, I couldn’t stop.

Robard pursed his lips. “If I didn’t know better”-he stopped and walked to the window and spat-“I would think the Lionheart wants you dead.”

“I know,” I said.

“But why?” Maryam nearly shouted. “What interest could he possibly have in you?”

I shrugged, for I had no answer. “I just wanted you all to know everything. Before our next step. If you want out, I understand.”

Robard and Maryam didn’t hesitate. “We’re in,” he said. “I don’t expect to have to have this conversation again.” He clapped me on the shoulder. Maryam and Celia smiled.

Angel gave a happy yip, which a moment later became a low growl. Stopping to listen, we heard the rising shouts of alarm and general commotion coming from outside. Just then Jean-Luc knocked at the doorway and threw the door open. He spoke quickly to Celia, then rushed away.

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“Your friend Sir Hugh has returned,” she said, “with more men this time. His leaving was a ruse. We are under attack!”

We ran out of the keep and across the bailey. Jean-Luc had moved quickly to man the forward battlement. Other villagers were running about, bringing their pitchforks and swords forward, determined to drive back Sir Hugh and his invading hordes.

“Start the fires!” I yelled. My siege engines still stood at the ready. I hoped we would have enough earthen jugs and time to use them before Sir Hugh’s men could get a foothold on the walls.

“Tristan,” Robard yelled as we ran toward the battlements, “I don’t have enough arrows to even slow them down. You had better come up with something quick.”

“Can you shoot a crossbow?” I asked.

“Of course I can shoot a crossbow, but why would I want to?” he scoffed.

“Because it’s all we have at the moment. Save what arrows you have for when they are really needed.”

Robard nodded and cut toward the armory. Maryam and Celia were rallying the villagers along the northwest wall. Several of the village elders, with Angel’s assistance, were herding the children back into the keep. They would be safe there.

While they stoked the fires, I raced up the ladder to the forward battlement to survey the field. I was shocked by what lay before me. A quick count of regimento flags told me there were more than six hundred Templars on the field before us. Even with the loss of the High Counsel’s men, wherever they had gone, Sir Hugh had still gained numbers. For a moment, I was glad to at least be rid of Father Renard, though the way my luck went I was sure I would encounter him again somewhere. Sir Hugh was more than enough to deal with at the moment. If he had managed to gather more Templars from nearby commanderies, would more be arriving? And how soon?

It was almost dark but still light enough to see the lines forming. Several small groups had already raced forward to the walls and were making a halfhearted attempt to use scaling ladders, but they were paying a dreadful price as Jean-Luc’s crossbowmen cut through them.

At first I was confused by their tactics. Why were they not more deliberate in trying to overcome us on the battlements? I could not see Sir Hugh on the field in the gathering darkness, but something wasn’t right here. The Templars at the walls shouted now and then, and a few of them even chucked a few rocks at the crossbowmen, ducking behind shields when the bowmen answered with a shot, but their surge was unorganized and lacked intensity.

Then Sir Hugh’s plan was revealed and my mouth fell open to my chest.

From out of the tree line, pulled by several teams of horses and dozens of men, came a giant battering ram. It moved on four huge wooden wheels supported by a triangular base. From the framework hung a log, carved by ax to a sharp point, covered with an iron casing. It would be rolled up to the gate and then several teams of men would swing the log back and forth until the metal-tipped point battered down the doors.

Wooden shielding had been affixed over the frame to repel our flaming missiles and crossbowmen from harming the men below it. And I was sure the wood was green and coated in mud so it wouldn’t catch fire easily, at least not before they had broken through the gates.

As I watched the attack unfold, I was angry at myself for allowing Sir Hugh to dupe me so easily. I should have known he would never agree to leave without a fight. He had only sought to buy time until his reinforcements arrived and he could attack in force. But as Sir Thomas once told me, battle is no time to dwell on one’s mistakes. I had to regain my focus and figure a way to counter this move.

Down below, next to my small siege engines, the kettles of lard over the fires were bubbling. Robard, Jean-Luc and the crossbowmen held the battlement and pushed back the scaling ladders, but the men-at-arms below were not at all interested in climbing the ladders; they were only buying time and making us waste precious bolts until the battering ram could be rolled into place.

“Jean-Luc!” I shouted. “Hold your fire! Save your bolts for the men pushing the battering ram!” Celia stood at the southwest corner shouting orders.

“Celia, come with me, please. Hurry!” She left Martine in charge and we made our way down to the courtyard.

We reached the fires below a few seconds later. “I need you to tell everyone manning a siege engine to get the lard as hot as possible and hoist those kettles up on the parapet over the main gate. We’ll need ropes and timbers! Get them to hurry!” Frantic shouting came from the battlement above us, and there was more noise outside as the battering ram slowly made its way toward the gate.