Stewart Binns - Anarchy

‘Grosso Stivali!’

‘Yes, Serenity.’

‘You should be able to see Zadar from the top of the pass ahead. It is about fifteen miles beyond the summit. Ride to the top and, under cover of darkness, approach the city. I want a full report first thing in the morning.’

‘Yes, my Prince.’

As I rode away from the column with my companions, we could hear, slowly receding behind us, the distinctive commotion of an army making camp.

Soon there was peace.

It had been some time since we had enjoyed the comforts of the open spaces and the tranquillity of nature. For months we had lived amidst the bustle of Venice, a confined environment surrounded by water. The Domenico was even more cramped and oppressive, with over a hundred men in a space the size of a village longhouse. Even our island refuge of Bisevo was small and restricted, bounded by leagues of open sea. Now, for the first time in a long while, we could ride through open country with far horizons of flora and fauna. Eadmer and Wulfric in particular – neither of whom was happy in a maritime world – felt particularly invigorated.

The scenery along the coast was spectacular: tall jagged peaks of white limestone and, lower down, large forests fringed by rich farmland. It seemed like good land to cultivate, with cold winters and hot summers, but plenty of moisture from the stormy Adriatic, which lapped its shores.

When we reached the crest of a long ridge of hills to the east of Zadar, we could see the city in silhouette against the low setting sun. Although it was winter, the sun was warm and the Adriatic glistened on the horizon. All seemed calm, with the city about to settle down for a peaceful night. It would be the last such night for many poor souls.

We paused for darkness and rode as far towards the city as we thought was safe. The ground sloped gently, but steadily, to the sea. Soon the rough stony terrain turned into fertile soil in which vines, olive groves and citrus trees grew. We avoided any sign of farmhouses and kept off the roads and tracks. Toste tethered the horses in a small gorge, hidden by undergrowth, and each was given a nosebag to keep him quiet. It was an almost full moon; we had to be careful. We took off our armour and boots and put on the kind of small leather slippers preferred by ladies at court – a tactic my mother had told me was favoured by my grandfather, who was renowned for his prowess at war-by-stealth.

As we got close to the city, it became clear that news had reached the citizens that the army of the Doge was approaching. It was not unusual for a city’s gates to be barred so late at night, but the number of sentries patrolling the walls and the fact that the farmsteads of the hinterland and the peasants’ hovels under the shadow of the walls were deserted meant only one thing: Zadar was ready for a fight. The harbour was empty of ships – they had been sailed away, probably lashed together and manned by skeleton crews safely out at sea.

We could see that Zadar sat on a small peninsular of land which had the shape of a thumb projected into the sea. Its walls surrounded the entire city but on three sides rose out of the sea, so a land-based assault was only possible from the base of the ‘thumb’, a narrow strip of land only 200 yards wide. It would be a very treacherous assault.

Eadmer was very blunt with his assessment.

‘Assuming the defenders have good archers and plenty of stones and hot oil, a frontal attack will be suicidal.’

I looked at Toste and Wulfric, who clearly agreed.

‘Let’s hope the Doge has a plan.’

Our return journey was uneventful. By the time we returned, we found a flurry of early-morning activity. The Doge had ordered the camp to be struck ready for the march to the city. The weather had changed overnight. A cold wind was blowing from the sea and rain was beginning to fall.

For once, Ordelafo addressed me by my name.

‘Sit, Harold of Hereford. What have you seen?’

I gave my report in as much detail as I could.

‘Good. You have done an excellent night’s work. Now go and get some rest. You have a few hours. We will leave soon, but you can catch us up later. We won’t attack until tomorrow.’

‘Serenity, may I offer a view?’

‘As long as it’s helpful.’

There was a look of surprise and even concern on the faces of those close to the Doge. I had come to realize that his general staff was run strictly from the top, with little or no opportunity for debate – and certainly not for dissension. But I thought it was important that I express what I assumed was obvious.

‘Serene Prince, if you intend to attack rather than besiege the city, it will be hazardous. The walls are thirty feet high, we are not sure how many men are behind them and how good they are and, although considerable, we don’t have a huge force.’

Ordelafo stood up and stretched himself to his full height. He looked at me sternly, then seemed to relent.

‘The walls are thirty-two and a half feet high, and behind them are five hundred and twenty Hungarian archers, and three hundred and ten infantry. There are also at least twelve hundred and fifty assorted pirates and cut-throats. The civilian population is around seven thousand. They will have stones and oil to hurl. The hinterland will have been stripped bare of food, the wells poisoned. They will almost certainly have provisioned themselves for a siege of many months. That’s why we’re going to attack.’

The Doge had made his point. He was well prepared, but I still thought he had not answered my main point: we didn’t have enough men to cover the losses that would inevitably be sustained in an attack on a fortification of the strength of Zadar. Even so, I knew it was wise not to pursue it.

‘Forgive me, Serenity, but I thought it worth raising my concerns with you.’

‘I understand. It would have been wrong for you not to mention it – especially as, when we are ready, you will lead one of the scaling teams.’

Ordelafo grinned at me, and the others around him sniggered. I bowed and turned to go, but the Doge had another barb to deliver.

‘Grosso Stivali, why are you wearing ladies’ slippers?’

There were roars of laughter from everyone. I had forgotten to change back into my boots!

‘Serenity, they were for the approach to the city – a ruse my grandfather used to use.’

‘You English are very strange. The legendary Hereward Great Axe – in court slippers! From now on, we will call you “Dama Stivali” – “Lady Boots”.’

The hoots of laughter intensified, leaving me with no choice but to bow and skulk away with my tail between my legs.

When I rejoined Eadmer and the men, I barked my orders with some venom.

‘Get some rest! Tomorrow, we lead one of the attacks.’

‘That’s a death warrant,’ was Eadmer’s blunt response.

It took the entire day for the army to reach Zadar, where it immediately started to make camp. Working at an astonishing pace, the sappers and engineers began to assemble the catapults and build the siege towers and ladders. The Doge’s army preparing for war was a sight to behold. Everyone knew his task: pegs were driven into timber, leather thongs were lashed around cross-beams, marines sharpened and oiled their weapons, and cooks skewered carcasses on to spits. The noise was overwhelming, the mood jovial, both helping everyone to keep their minds off the battle to come.

The curfew bell in Zadar sounded loudly about two hours after dark, which prompted the Doge to order that work should cease and that the army should eat. Most armies would be given copious amounts of alcohol on the eve of battle, to help steady the nerves of the men. But not the Doge’s army. He insisted on nothing other than water, believing that men fight better with a clear head.