Jonathan Dunn - The Forgotten King

“With your military mind, you cannot see beyond the means.”

“I will be freed and you imprisoned. I will be returned to power.”

“That is not yet the end, for the flood comes quickly upon us. If your armies can conquer the forces of man, they are powerless before the forces of God.”

“As are you, if he exists. But I have not seen him.”

“You cannot force open the door, but only knock.”

“And yield our souls to the almighty footman? I do not care for God. If he does exist, Gylain will destroy him.”

“How can he think such things if he is not mad?”

“If he is not mad? He does not deny madness, nor do I. If he is mad, it is only that he agrees with you, that God is with you. For that is why he battles you and why he overthrew the king. He claimed divine right to rule and Gylain defeated him; the rebellion claims God’s grace for freedom and Gylain will dash it against the rocks. Thus he will defeat God by proxy.”

“It is hard to fight an enemy you will not admit exists.”

“Does it matter? Can anything matter, for what is truth?”

“If you did not know, could you deny it?”

“Foolish woman. But look, my allies attack!”

Below, on the castle walls, the besieging army began its assault. The soldiers rode rafts across the water. Smaller frigates stood in reserve. The rebels countered with a herd of arrows and Alfonzo could be seen rushing to join the fight, coming from the inner castle. De Garmia went before him, the Fardy brothers behind.

“Fight well, my love,” Celestine whispered, “Fight as if it mattered!”

Meanwhile, far below the two sisters, Alfonzo spoke to the guards as he gained the wall.

“They attack?” he asked.

“Yes, on rafts; for the water is nearing the tops of the walls.”

“So it is,” Alfonzo returned. Then, grimacing, “We have little time left, before we have more invaders than mere men. The castle cannot long hold up against this water!”

As he spoke, the first raft drew near the walls. It was four planks tied rudely together with two ropes, all of which had apparently been plundered from the fleet. The water was turbulent and many of the soldiers were lost as they crossed the encroaching sea on their pitiable rafts. Still, they came. The fleet, itself, had advanced within a quarter mile of the castle and would be able to reach it in a few moments if the storm continued. But de Casanova did not wait, fearing he would be forced to show mercy to the rebels, on account of the elements. He rode in the foremost raft, standing tall and defying the defenders with his flourishing blade.

“Archers, bring him low,” Alfonzo ordered.

The rangers drew their strings and sent a volley straight for him. Some flew overhead, some underfoot, but none of them hit. There was no time for a second volley. The raft landed on the wall, several feet below the top. The soldiers raised their spears and jumped onto the wall, pushing back the archers as they came.

“Surrender or be slain,” de Casanova cried as he gained his feet.

“Your mercy is not so desirable, de Casanova.”

“Alfonzo, I did not expect you.”

He leapt from the parapets onto the main wall, landing beside Alfonzo with his sword drawn. The latter held his blade and met his downward blow; they pushed, then fell back when neither yielded. Their swords angled out before them and they circled about before resuming the melee. The blades danced between them, first with Alfonzo’s down stroke, then as de Casanova blocked it and forced his opponent’s sword to the left. Alfonzo dashed forward; de Casanova caught the oncoming sword with a down stroke and forced it to the right. Then he came forward with three desperate lunges, each parried by Alfonzo. He pressed forward, forcing the rebel back, then rained down with a powerful overhead blow. Alfonzo stumbled and de Casanova jumped onto the parapet, then down again behind Alfonzo before the latter could recover himself.

Alfonzo extended his blade and spun around, whipping it toward his opponent, who leaned back to let it pass. Three men were engaged with a group of invaders behind him, however, and he hit one in the back. Alfonzo’s blade buzzed past his chest and de Casanova lunged forward to the opening. Alfonzo threw himself back to evade the blow. While he escaped, he fell to the ground in process. De Casanova advanced and raised his sword to smite him.

“ Bon voyage ,” and he sent it screaming toward Alfonzo.

It never reached him. De Casanova was grabbed from behind and pulled back, then thrown to the ground by a powerful arm. His sword came with him. Alfonzo was left unscathed.

“The Fardy brothers,” as he looked up to his attackers.

“For sure; and our patience is thinner than the skin which keeps our blades from your neck.”

The battle elsewhere had not gone the same for the rebels, but neither did the besiegers gain victory. The soldiers were weary. The threat of the increasing storm left them afraid of more than each other.

“Your men grow weary,” de Casanova observed. “You would do well to finish me before my forces take the day.”

“Your forces do no better,” and Alfonzo returned to his feet.

At that moment, de Garmia ran past, driving four soldiers and the Fardy brothers’ attentions before him. De Casanova saw the opening.

“Perhaps,” and he rolled to the left, escaping the blond Fardy’s blade, pushing himself over the parapet with his powerful arms and falling into the water beyond.

“Archers, take him,” Alfonzo cried, and he took his own bow for the same purpose.

But de Casanova was a hard man. He dove beneath the waves and did not resurface until he reached the awaiting fleet, now within twenty yards. Alfonzo measured his aim and shot far to the left of his enemy. The wind forced it to the right: it sank into de Casanova’s leg. But it was too late and he was hauled onto the ship and into safety.

“He has escaped us again,” Alfonzo turned to the Fardy brothers.

“Yes, but patience, my friend,” the brown brother answered, “Patience!”

Alfonzo laughed, “Yes, it has already been written. You rebuke me.”

Only then did Alfonzo look to the ongoing battle. The walls, inner and outer, were filled with fighting men and the dead floated just beyond. Rain came down like hail, and, with the sounds of war added, cacophony ensued. Then, when the melee grew desperate, the water rose above the outer wall and crashed into the castle, bringing the dead on its charging swell.

“All is lost,” the Fardys moaned. “The deluge!”

“Do not repent of your courage yet; for deliverance is near,” and Alfonzo climbed a nearby sentry tower. Standing on its peak, he looked over the murdering men and broke the thunder with his voice.

“Peace!” he cried. The battle stopped to listen. “We fight for many ends, but the end of all is drawing near for us. Whether we fight for freedom or duty, both will be lost to us if we do not save ourselves from the storm. The water comes, and it will wash us away. So let us make peace and save ourselves, that we may murder each other later, in safety. Even de Casanova has fled to the fleet.”

“Yet our fleet insures our safety,” an officer returned, “For when the tide comes, they will gather us up again.”

“Do not expect salvation from your friends,” Alfonzo answered. “Even now they are under attack. The battle does not go well with them.”

“The French?” and the officer dropped his sword, joining Alfonzo atop of the tower. The men, weary, laid down their arms to rest.

After a moment, the officer cried out, “So it is! Yield yourselves, men, for de Casanova has left us and the fleet is under heavy attack by the French. They surround our two hundred ships with an equal number. Some of our ships do not join the fight; the rest are in confusion.”