“Ceadric!” hollers Illan. “Have some of the men get the wounded and those unable to fight back to the city.” They may have beaten this force, but there’s still the other force James saw in his mirror on the way.
“Delia, have your group stay with Hedry’s” he hollers. The battle before the palisade is winding down, men are escaping through the gates. Madoc’s men are riding in pursuit. Seeing one of Madoc’s officers nearby, Illan shouts, “Kippen!”
Looking his way, Kippen brings his horse to a halt. As he does, Illan hollers, “Get your men back. There’s another force on the way and we have to get into position.”
“Yes, sir,” he replies and kicks his horse into a gallop as he races to the palisade.
“We’re not going to fight another battle are we?” a voice from the slingers calls out.
Illan turns to them but can’t determine who asked the question. “Yes we are. They’re not expecting an attack and the element of surprise will give us an edge.”
“Any of those son’s of a dog we take down now will be less we’ll have to face later,” Ceadric adds.
As Ceadric’s men begin removing the injured and recently healed, Illan starts moving toward the palisade. The remainder of his force, still over seven hundred strong, follow along behind.
Calling to the officers from the various forces to fall in, he begins marshalling the chaos around him back into an effective fighting force. Hedry and Delia’s people stay to the rear this time, no need being out front.
To one officer of a cavalry unit he orders, “Send out riders and find the force coming from the south.”
“Yes, sir!” the officer hollers as he carries out the order. Soon, four riders are racing for the gate in the palisade.
“They may already know of the battle from those who fled,” one of Ceadric’s men states.
“Be that as it may, we are still going to engage while the numbers are on our side,” he says.
Madoc’s archers fall in behind their force as well as soldiers from many units, swelling their numbers by the minute. While not in the actual line of command for any of these forces, in the face of the Black Hawk banner, none will gainsay him. His legend awes them into compliance.
On the far side of the palisade, they find what’s left of the enemy’s camp. Tents, wagons and a large number of slaves who are being set free. Many can’t believe their lives are once again their own. Some have never known freedom, having been born slaves and simply don’t know what to do now that they are free.
Off in the distance, pockets of fighting are still going on as Madoc’s men continue the annihilation of the enemy. No quarter is given as their anger and rage at the Empire has finally found an outlet.
Illan sends the cavalry off to the right to swing around the approaching force to take it from the rear once the fighting begins. As his army makes its way through the palisade’s gate, he gets them into position to meet the oncoming force. At the rear are the five catapults with wagons of rocks to use for ammunition, this time filled with smaller rocks ranging from the size of a baseball to that of a watermelon. Moving along at the pace of the slowest unit, the army doesn’t cover ground very fast. But then Illan would like to hold off confrontation until the cavalry has had a chance to maneuver around them.
Having sent the cavalry around to come at their rear, all he’s left with is several thousand men at arms, hundreds of archers and what’s left of the Black Hawk Raiders. The bearer of the Black Hawk banner takes position at the head of the force and the wind whips the flag as if to display the black hawk for the entire world to see. A scattered cheer rises up from the men.
Once the pockets of resistance have been nullified, he gathers all friendly forces together and marches down the road to meet the oncoming reinforcements of the enemy army. The brief look in James’ mirror had revealed roughly five thousand strong strung along several miles.
With just plains to contend with, there’s very little chance to orchestrate an ambush. They’ll know they are coming and will move into a defensive posture as soon as they realize what’s going on. That is if they don’t already.
From the road up ahead, two of the four scouts return at a fast gallop. “What’s the news?” questions Illan when they pull up to him.
“They’ve stopped about five miles down the road,” one scout explains as he rides beside him.
“Looks as if they got word of what happened here,” the other adds.
“How many?” Jiron asks.
“Five thousand foot soldiers,” the first scout replies.
“No horse?” asks Illan.
Shaking his head, the scout says, “Not that we saw. We returned with the news of their whereabouts and numbers, they were still arranging themselves to defend against attack.”
“Rejoin your unit,” Illan says as he thinks about what they just told him. No horse, just foot. Excellent. If as the scout said they still only have five thousand, then the numbers will be on their side by about two thousand. With the cavalry coming up behind them as well as the riders with Ceadric, they should be able to win the day.
It isn’t long before the enemy force comes into view. They’ve positioned themselves across the road, a massive block of heavy infantry with several hundred crossbowmen protected in the center. No matter which direction a force attacks from, the crossbowmen can easily decimate them.
When the enemy sees them on the road, they form their ranks tighter. The soldiers at the leading edge have long spears to use against any cavalry units that attack.
Stopping just out of crossbow range, Illan turns back to his men and says, “Form ranks, bows and slings to the rear.” As the men begin moving into formation for attack he takes his horse to the rear where the catapults are sitting.
The officer in charge comes to attention as he approaches. “Captain,” Illan says, “are we close enough to pepper them with grapeshot?”
“Yes, sir” he replies.
“Then as soon as you are ready, let them have it.”
“Yes, sir,” replies the captain. To his men he hollers, “Get them catapults into position and bring those wagons closer! We need to soften them up a bit so our delicate soldiers can go and be heroes.”
His men break into a laugh and quickly get the catapults into position. Once they’re ready, the men begin filling the catapult’s bucket with the grapeshot from the wagons. As soon as they are filled and ready, the Captain yells, “Let ‘em go boys!”
Five arms fling their deadly projectiles into the air. All of Illan’s forces hold their breath as the projectiles fly to their target and then let out a cheer as they begin ripping through the enemy soldiers. Even though most of the soldiers had lifted shields to protect themselves from the rain of death, several dozen men fall. The crossbowmen, without the benefit of the shields fall in droves.
A command is given within the enemy force and they surge forward to attack, not willing to simply stay in one position and be stoned to death. “Once more if you will captain!” Illan hollers.
The catapult crews work quickly and soon have the arms back in position and their buckets filled. “Now!” he cries as the five catapults let loose. The grapeshot flies over the heads of Illan’s force and rips once again through the attackers. Men fall as stones smash heads, crush arms and legs, and just about every other portion of the body as well.
When their crossbowmen reach effective range, they stop and begin firing into the defenders. “Shields!” cries Illan and his men raise their shields to ward off the bolts. As the bolts fall, the majority are either deflected by the shields or embed themselves into them. Some manage to find their target.
“Orry!” cries out Terrance as a crossbow bolt strikes Orry in the neck. Thrown backward, Orry hits the ground. His lifeless eyes stare up at Terrance as he reaches his side.
“Leave him!” Jiron cries out as he draws his knives.
“Ready slings and bows!” Hedry’s voice sounds over the roar of battle.
Terrance, angered by the loss of his friend gets to his feet and puts a slug in his sling. When the command ‘Fire at will’ comes, he twirls his sling and lets loose at one of the approaching attackers. Maybe it is the anger at the loss of his friend, but his slug flies true and hits the man square between the eyes. In the heat of battle, he doesn’t have time to be surprised at his skill, just places another slug in the sling, twirls and fires again.
“For Madoc!” the cry rings out as the two forces meet. “For Black Hawk!” another voice screams.
Jiron braces for the impact and as the soldier directly in front of him strikes out with his sword, he meets it with his left knife. Then he strikes out with his right and the man falls to the ground as blood gushes from his neck. An instant later the dead man’s spot is filled with another and the battle continues.
