Simon Scarrow - Sword and Scimitar

La Riviere made to mount and Thomas whispered fiercely, ‘Wait. Let them fill the gap before we attack.’

The Frenchman hesitated a moment, tom by the desire to charge on his enemy and the good sense of Thomas’s advice, then he nodded and kept still. As more of the Turks became aware of what had been done to the scout, their cries of outrage increased and they began to surge around the officer standing over the body. Thomas sensed the tension in the men around him and along the line concealed behind the rocks and stunted scrub.

‘Just a moment longer,’ he muttered as the column became more disordered.

‘Open fire!’ a voice cried out from the left.

Thomas’s head snapped round, mouth opened to countermand the order before he realised it was pointless.

The air filled with the frizzle of powder in priming pans and then the deafening explosions as the arquebuses spat flame and smoke. The Turks had turned in alarm at the shouted order and now several of them tumbled back into the closely packed mob as they were struck down by the heavy lead shot.

‘Charge!’ La Riviere bellowed.

Thomas, Richard and the squires scrambled into their saddles, drew their swords and spurred their horses from cover. To his left Thomas saw Von Harsteiner slapping the flat of his sword against the side of his horse as he led the knights on the other flank. The German was bellowing incoherently as he charged and Thomas realised that it was he who had shouted the order to fire. Between the two flanks the footmen lowered their arquebuses and snatched up their hand weapons and raced towards the Turks who were still too stunned by the attack to react. As they entered the lane, both parties of horsemen swerved their mounts and turned on the Turks and charged home. Grasping the reins tightly in his left hand, Thomas leaned forward and lowered the tip of his sword, arm braced to strike as he bore down on the swirl of robes and terrified faces trapped in the lane. The nearest of the enemy panicked at the sight of the steel-clad riders and turned and tried to flee. Some clambered over the stone wall, others ran into the heart of the mob, causing further confusion. A few stood their ground, shields raised and swords ready to strike.

Thomas picked a man directly ahead and as his mount knocked the man to one side he struck, thrusting through the Turk’s shoulder and then savagely wrenching the blade back before he swung at the turbaned head and felt the solid thud of contact before the man dropped to the ground senseless. Thomas’s ears filled with the sound of blades clashing, the whinny of horses and the shouts and screams of men fighting, killing and dying. He saw Richard, teeth gritted, urge his mount into the throng of Turks as he slashed savagely to left and right, crimson drops spraying into the air, across the flank of his horse and spattering the polished steel of his breastplate.

Then he glimpsed a flicker of steel to his right and turned just in time to thrust his arm out and block the heavy scimitar arcing diagonally towards his shoulder. A sharp clash of blades filled his ears and the shock of the impact ran down his arm into his shoulder. Thomas gritted his teeth as he pushed the scimitar aside and locked his gaze on a tall, broad warrior in a chain-mail vest and pointed helmet. Dark eyes glared back either side of an ornate nose guard and the Turk snarled with frustration as he snatched his sword back and swept it round behind him to make another attempt to strike Thomas down. Pressing hard on his stirrups Thomas thrust his sword towards the Turk’s throat with all his strength. The point stabbed under the man’s beard and above the chain-mail and tore through the soft tissue, cartilage and blood vessels before it burst through the muscles at the back of his neck. The Turk’s eyes bulged in shock and agony and his lips parted in a grimace as Thomas tore his sword free. As blood pulsed from the wound, the man dropped his sword and clutched his hand to the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow. Then he was swept aside as his comrades surged away from the mounted knights carving their way through the throng.

Even though the Turks outnumbered their attackers, the suddenness and ferocity of the assault had shattered the swaggering confidence of a moment before and now they broke and fled, scrambling over the walls on either side, or desperately trying to get past the horsemen and flee along the lane. A dozen of their comrades already lay sprawled across the rutted track, bleeding into the dust. Only one of La Riviere’s men had been wounded, piked in the hip, and he had limped out through the gap in the wall and was clutching a hand tightly to the bloodied cloth of his gambeson. The Turkish officer and a handful of his men still faced their attackers and Thomas pointed the officer out with his sword.

‘Take him! Take him and it’s all over.’

Richard glanced back and nodded, then spurred his horse, leaning forward, his blade drawn back ready to strike. A handful of the enemy footmen were clustered about their officer, ready to protect him with their lives. Richard’s mount barged into them, sending two men reeling while he struck at a third, severing his sword hand and then cutting deeply into his neck to finish the man off. Thomas urged his horse forward, pushing past his squire until lie faced the enemy officer.

‘Yield!’ Thomas called out. ‘Yield, or die!’

Whether the Turk spoke French or not, he readily understood the command and spat with derision before driving his spurs in and charging his mount directly at Thomas. The Turk’s horse was lighter and barely caused Thomas’s charger to stagger back one step .is they thudded breast to breast. The enemy officer’s blade slashed towards Thomas but glanced off his shoulder guard. Thomas instantly struck back but the officer parried the blow before the horses had passed each other. Both men pulled on their reins and turned to continue the duel. The Turk turned first and swung his sword at Thomas’s head. There was no time to block the blow and Thomas threw his body to the side. The blade cut through the air with a low swish and Thomas strained to return to an upright position.

He saw Richard edge forward from the other side of the Turk and called out, ‘Leave him! This one’s mine!’

Richard hesitated, then drew in his reins. His mount tossed its head as it came to an abrupt halt. Thomas barely had time to raise his sword before the next blow arced towards his helmet. The scimitar struck his sword close to the hilt and Thomas instantly turned his wrist to trap his opponent’s sword. With a violent wrench he snatched the scimitar from the officer’s hand and shook it to the ground before urging his horse forward and aiming the tip of the blade at the Turk’s throat.

‘Yield!’

For a moment the Turk’s eyes flashed defiantly and Thomas thought he might have to kill the man. Then the officer’s shoulders slumped and he bowed his head in defeat.

‘Richard, take charge of him. We need him for interrogation, but if he tries to escape, kill him.’

His squire nodded and ordered one of La Riviere’s soldiers to bind the officer’s hands behind his back while he held his sword up to the Turk’s face. Thomas sat erect in his saddle and looked round the ambush site. Over a score of the enemy were now down; some of them were wounded and pleaded desperately before they were finished off by the Italian mercenaries. Further off, the survivors of the column were scattered across the surrounding fields. They were pursued by La Riviere and the other knights and most of the squires, crying out with excitement as they rode down and killed their prey.

‘The fools have lost their heads,’ Thomas muttered angrily as he sheathed his blade.

A moment later he heard the shrill blast of a horn and looked to the east to see a large party of horsemen, perhaps thirty strong, riding towards the lane. Some of the knights and squires reined in as they heard the sound, and the quick-witted saw at once that they were in danger of being cut off from the direction of Birgu. They turned their horses and galloped back towards the lane. La Riviere and two of the squires were far ahead of their comrades, and slower to react. Thomas realised they were in grave danger. But he had to get the rest of the men safely away. He drew a deep breath and cupped a hand to his mouth.