‘Ah-ha!’ Delada said triumphantly. ‘Just as I thought!’
Sparhawk looked out over the wall. The important thing was to be able to prove beyond doubt the collusion between Martel and Annias. Sparhawk was a bit apprehensive about that. If the conversation between the Primate of Cimmura and the renegade Pandion did not reveal Martel’s identity, all Delada would be able to report to the Hierocracy would be a highly suspicious conversation between Annias and an unnamed stranger.
Emban, Dolmant and Ortzel, however, had been adamant.
Delada was absolutely not to be supplied with any information which could contaminate his testimony. Sparhawk was particularly disappointed in Patriarch Emban on that score. The fat Churchman was devious and deceitful on every other count. Why should he suddenly become ethical on this one crucial point?
“It’s starting, Sparhawk,’ Kalten called from the torchlit wall. “The Rendors are coming out to clear away our obstructions. ‘
The rooftop was slightly higher than the wall, and Sparhawk could clearly see over the fortification. The Rendors came rushing out, howling as before. Heedless of the poison smeared on the stakes of the hedgehogs, they rolled the obstructions out of the way. Many, caught up in a frenzied religious ecstasy, even went so far as to throw themselves needlessly on the poisoned stakes.
Broad avenues were soon cleared away, and the assault towers began to trundle out of the still-smoking city, moving slowly towards the walls. The assault towers, Sparhawk saw, were constructed of thick planks covered by green cowhides which had been dipped in water so many times that water actually ran from them. No crossbow bolt or javelin would be able to penetrate the planks, and burning pitch and naphtha would not be able to set fire to the dripping hides. One by one, Martel was countering all their defences.
‘Do you actually anticipate fighting in the Basilica, Sir Sparhawk?’ Delada asked.
‘We can hope not, Colonel,’ Sparhawk replied. “It’s best to be ready though. I really appreciate your deploying those Guardsmen of yours down in that cellar – particularly since I can’t tell you why we need them there. We’d have had to pull men off the walls otherwise.’
“I have to assume you know what you’re doing, Sparhawk,’ the colonel said ruefully. ‘putting the whole detachment under the command of your squire sort of upset my second in command, though.’
“It was a tactical decision, colonel. That cellar’s full of echoes. Your men won’t be able to understand shouted commands. Kurik and I have been together for a long time, and we’ve worked out ways to deal with situations like that one.’ Delada looked out at the assault towers lumbering across the open space in front of the walls. ‘Big, aren’t they?’ he said. ‘How many men can you crowd into one of those things?’
‘That depends on how fond of the men you are,’
Sparhawk told him, moving his shield in front of his body to ward off the arrows which had already begun to drop onto the roof, ‘several hundred at least.’
“I’m not familiar with siege tactics,’ Delada admitted.
.What happens now?’
‘They roll up to the walls and try to charge the defenders. The defenders try to push the towers over.
It’s very confusing and very noisy and a lot of people get hurt.’
‘When do those mangonels come into play?’
“Probably when several of the towers are firmly in place against the walls.’
“Won’t they be dropping boulders on their own men?’
‘The men in the towers aren’t very important. A lot of them are Rendors – like the ones out there who got killed clearing away the obstructions. The man who’s in charge of that army isn’t exactly what you’d call a humanitarian.’
“Do you know him?’
“Oh, yes. Very well.’
“And you want to kill him, don’t you?’ Delada asked shrewdly.
‘The thought’s crossed my mind a few times.’
One of the towers was now quite close to the wall, and the defenders, trying to dodge the hail of arrows and crossbow bolts, threw grappling hooks on long ropes over the roof of the lumbering structure. Then they began to pull on the ropes. The tower swayed, rocked back and forth and finally toppled with a resounding crash. The men inside began to scream, some in pain and some in terror. They knew what came next. The fall of the tower had broken the planks, and the tower lay open like a shattered egg. The cauldrons of pitch and naphtha poured down upon the wreckage and the struggling men, and the torches set the boiling liquid on fire.
Delada swallowed hard as the despairing screams of the burning men came shockingly up from the base of the wall.
‘Does that happen very often?’ he asked in a sick voice.
“We hope so,’ Sparhawk said bleakly. ‘Every one of them we kill outside the walls is one less who gets inside.’
Sparhawk wove a quick spell and spoke to Sephrenia, who was waiting inside the chapterhouse. ‘We’re just about ready to engage out here, little mother,’ he reported.
‘Any hints of Martel yet?’
“Nothing, dear one.’ Her voice seemed almost to whisper in his ear. ‘Be very careful, Sparhawk. Aphrael will be very cross with you if you allow yourself to be killed.’
‘Tell her she’s welcome to lend a hand, if she’d like.’
‘Sparhawk!’ The tone was half-shocked and half-amused.
“To whom were you speaking, Sir Sparhawk?’ Delada’s voice was baffled, and he was looking around to see if anyone were near them.
‘You’re relatively devout, aren’t you, Colonel?’ Sparhawk asked him.
“I’m a son of the Church, Sparhawk.’
“It might upset you if I told you, then. The militant orders have permission to go beyond what’s allowed to ordinary members of the Elene faith. Why don’t we just let it go at that.’
Despite the best efforts of the defenders, several towers reached the wall, and the drawbridges at their tops swung down onto the battlements. One of the towers touched the wall just beside the gate, and Sparhawk’s friends were ready for it. Tynian led their charge as they dashed across the drawbridge and into the tower itself. Sparhawk held his breath as his friends struggled inside the tower out of his sight. The sounds from within bespoke the ferocity of the fight. There was the crash of arms and screams and groans. Then Tynian and Kalten came back out, ran across the thick-planked drawbridge and seized a large bubbling caldron of boiling pitch and naphtha in their steel-clad arms. They lurched back across the drawbridge with it and disappeared inside again. The screams from within suddenly intensified as they dumped the pitch down into the faces of the men on ladders inside the tower.
The knights emerged from the tower. When Kalten reached the wall, he took up a torch and flipped it into the structure with a negligent-appearing toss. The tower acted much like a chimney. Black smoke billowed from the gaping doorway the drawbridge had covered, and then dark orange flame boiled out through the roof.
The screaming inside the tower increased, and then it died out.
The counter-attacks of the knights along the walls were sufficient to ward off the first wave of attackers, but the defence of the battlements had cost many lives. The sheets of arrows and the heavier bolts from the crossbows had raked the tops of the walls in a virtual storm, and many of the church soldiers and not a few of the knights had fallen prey to them.
‘They’ll come again?’ Delada asked sombrely.
“of course,’ Sparhawk said shortly. ‘The siege engines will pound the walls for a time now, and then more towers will come across that open area.’
‘How long can we hold out?’
‘Four – maybe five of those attacks. Then the mangonels will start to break down the walls. The fighting will start inside the city at that point.’
“We can’t possibly win, can we, Sparhawk?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Chyrellos is doomed then?’
‘Chyrellos was doomed the moment those two armies appeared, Delada. The strategy behind the attack on the city was very thorough – you might almost say brilliant.’
‘That’s a peculiar attitude under these circumstances Sparhawk.’
“It’s called professionalism. One’s supposed to admire the genius of one’s opponent. It’s a pose, of course, but it helps to build a certain abstraction. Last stands are very gloomy, and you need something to keep your spirits up.
Then Berit clambered up through the trap-door on the roof upon which Sparhawk and Delada stood. The novice’s eyes were wide, seemingly slightly unfocused, and his head was jerking. ‘Sir Sparhawk!’ he exclaimed, his voice unnecessarily loud.
‘Yes, Berit?’
‘What did you say?’
Sparhawk looked at him more closely. ‘What’s the matter, Berit?’ he asked.
“I’m sorry, Sir Sparhawk. I can’t hear you. They rang the bells in the Basilica when the attack started. All the bells are up in the cupola on top of the dome.