The fifty cannon in view on the southern hills boomed again. Beck dropped to his belly and squirmed alongside Jakon Gallowglass. Huge cannon balls, some of them containing explosive charges, hammered against the hillside less than thirty yards away. Taybard felt the ground beneath him tremble upon the impact. Several huge stakes flew overhead, blown from the earth. ‘I doubt they’ll have more than twenty rounds per cannon,’ said Beck. ‘Probably less.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Gallowglass.
‘Weight. Fifteen pounds a ball, that’s three hundred pounds per cannon. Fifty cannon. That’s fifteen thousand pounds. Over rough ground a two horse wagon can pull—’
‘We get the point, general,’ said Gallowglass. ‘Shouldn’t you be—’
The guns thundered. The men on the ridge hunkered down. The earth exploded around them. Taybard was hurled into Beck. Mud and dirt rained down on them.
‘Time for you to go, general,’ said Gallowglass, spitting dirt from his mouth.
‘See you in a while,’ said Beck, climbing from the trench and walking back towards the rear slope.
‘This is definitely not soldiering,’ said Gallowglass, peering over the lip of the trench. On the far ridge he could see men reloading the cannon. Suddenly there was a distant explosion, and one of the pieces blew apart. Jakon watched the huge barrel rear up some ten feet in the air. ‘Ha!’ he yelled. ‘Serve ’em right.’
The other cannons belched smoke and fire. Gallowglass swore and threw himself face down. This time the enemy gunners had found their range. All around the ridge top great gouts of earth plumed up. Thirty feet to the left of Taybard and Gallowglass a shell exploded in the air, sending shrapnel screaming across the ridge. Clods of earth thumped down on Taybard’s back. Then something else dropped alongside his head. Glancing to his left he saw it was part of a man’s hand.
Taybard grabbed it and tossed it out of the trench. Smoke and dust filled the air. He lifted his head and tried to pierce the man-made gloom. It was as if a fog had descended upon the ridge. He heard other cannon fire and winced, before realizing it was coming from the east, and was not directed at Beck’s ridge. Beside him Gallowglass coughed and spat. ‘See anything?’ he asked.
‘I can’t even see the cannons now,’ answered Taybard.
During the next few minutes the cannons fired four more salvoes. The silence that followed the explosions was rent by the screams of mutilated men.
By this time Taybard had taken to counting slowly between each salvo. The gunners were experts. Each time Taybard reached the count of twenty-eight the sound of distant thunder would herald another murderous assault from the sky.
‘How many is that so far?’ said Gallowglass, making Taybard lose count.
‘Eight, I think. Nine maybe.’
Taybard saw movement to his left. A group of wide-eyed, fearful men were scrambling from their trenches. Two had thrown aside their muskets. Taybard could feel the panic spreading.
Just then the Moidart came into view. He had his hands clasped behind his back as if out on a morning stroll.
The fleeing men paused. ‘Best keep your heads down,’ said the Moidart, moving past them. They hesitated, then returned to their trenches. A breeze began to blow across the ridge top. The Moidart approached where Taybard and Gallowglass were hunkered down. They moved aside to make way for him. ‘Not long now,’ said the earl.
The breeze quickened, and the smoke and dust began to clear.
Taybard squinted through the last of the haze. On the valley floor he saw red-coated lines of men marching forward, muskets in hand. Thousands of them.
‘Time to call up our boys,’ said Gallowglass, scrambling from the trench.
‘Not yet,’ said the Moidart.
Other men had the same idea. The Moidart called out to them. ‘Stay where you are! There’s one more salvo coming.’ Then he rose and calmly walked across the pockmarked ridge, disappearing from view.
Gallowglass stared after him, then looked back at the advancing enemy. They were within two hundred yards of the ridge now. At this point they quickened their pace. Sunlight gleamed from the bayonets on their muskets.
‘I think we are going to need a little help up here,’ muttered Gallowglass.