Castreresone.
Amberchelle growled, no longer as pleased with his associates. Berto Bertrand said, 'I'll spread the word that people who have somewhere else to go should do so.'
Bernardin Amberchelle was not in charge. The consuls of the city, its magnates, and its urban nobility listened only because he was Count Raymone's cousin. They nodded politely, then did things their own way. Rejecting the presence of a large enemy army as any reason to create a strong central authority.
The sixteenth morning word spread that the enemy was doing something new. Several thousand forty-day men had arrived from Firaldia. The Captain-General meant to take full advantage. Later that same day a messenger from Sheavenalle brought word that the port city had surrendered.
Observing from the wall when he heard, Brother Candle mused, 'That's what they've been waiting for. They can barge supplies up the Laur, now.' He wondered about the fate of the Seekers of Sheavenalle. And of its Devedian and Dainshau minorities. The Captain-General's men were not fanatics, but the Society followed right behind them.
The seventeenth morning the invaders assaulted the Burg and the New Town, surprising defenders who had been warned that an attack was coming. The attackers got over the New Town wall and captured a gate immediately. Fighting spread across the suburb. The defense collapsed by nightfall. The Patriarchals immediately began using tall buildings as vantages from which to hurl missiles into the city.
In the northwestern suburb, the Burg, the defenders held the top of the wall but failed to prevent two breaches created by clever masons. The defenders recaptured those and closed the gaps under a hail of missiles from wooden towers the besiegers put up with astonishing speed. Heavy ballistae atop those flung blazing spears deep into the suburb.
Brother Candle told Berto Bertrand, 'I'm no soldier, but I don't think a sally would be wise.' Small raids had been attempted almost daily. None had turned out well.
'We'll counterattack in the New Town tonight,' Bertrand said. The consuls and magnates had decided. 'And go after the towers bombarding the Burg, too.'
Only light defensive artillery had been mounted on the walls of the suburbs. None of Castreresone's defensive weaponry had done any good yet. The stone throwers still lacked ammunition. Those who made decisions remained confident in the White City's wall.
Brother Candle feared Roger Shale's improvements would go to waste.
Bertrand added, 'We'll hit their main camp tomorrow. They won't expect that. We'll push them back across the river and capture the towers they've built to control the bridge.'
There was more. It was a grand and complex scheme. The enemy's unseasoned levees would be trapped this side of the river and destroyed…
Beyond ignoring the certainty that any complicated plan will stumble, those who had created this one had forgotten that voice out of nowhere.
Brother Candle thought chances of surprising this enemy were nil. He did not stay awake to watch the disaster unfold. He did not want to live with the pain.
Socia could not contain her excitement. She burst into Brother Candle's cell. She bounced up and down while he collected himself.
'It isn't seemly for a woman of your station to be here.' Count Raymone had made little provision for her other than to trust her to the wisdom of the Perfect Master. 'But you're here, now. Pull yourself together. Try to make sense.'
'Everything is going the way they planned! They've retaken the New Town. They pulled those towers down that were shooting into the Burg.' Her excitement faded. 'They haven't put all the fires out, though.'
Brother Candle slept on a reed mat. He sat there now, his ragged blanket pulled around him. It had turned cold during the night. 'There was an actual surprise?'
'Completely!'
He was unprepared to believe that was not an enemy ploy. 'Back out of here for a minute. Let me get dressed.' Soda's life at Caron ande Lette had been rude, simple, and relaxed. That would not do in Castreresone. The Count of Antieux could not have his betrothed acquiring a tail of rumors.
'Come on!' Socia enthused as the old man left his cell. 'I want to see!'
He refused to be hurried. He stopped to break his fast: bread smeared with a dark, heavy, almost bitter honey. By the time the girl chivvied him forth from the keep there was light in the east as well as the north, where the Burg continued to burn. 'I suppose we should head for the eastern wall.'
The streets were filled with nervous men, all under arms. The arsenals had been emptied out. These men were supposed to capture the Laur bridge and its defenses.
Brother Candle believed he was looking at walking dead men.
The families were out and underfoot as well. Their fear was thick. They knew some of these fathers and husbands would not be coming back.
Would any? Brother Candle dreaded the answer.
He offered a blessing when requested, for anyone who asked, Maysalean or otherwise. Most Episcopals were not unwilling to take what they could get where they could get it. Though priests loyal to Viscesment would be waiting near the gate, to bless the faithful as they streamed past.
Brother Candle doubted that Sublime's priests would reveal themselves, though devout Episcopals of the Brothen stripe were among those about to fight for their city.
They had their doubts and fears, as men do in the hour before battle. But they had faith in the righteousness of their cause.
Brother Candle suffered the doubts and fears while enjoying none of the confidence of unquestioning faith.
'Socia. Dear girl. Once we're done here I fear I must leave you.'
'Don't be… What are you talking about?'
'I've forgotten what I am, child. I'm lost. I have to put the world aside and find myself again. I'm losing my soul.'
Socia used his own past remarks to argue with him.
The soldiers began their sally before the pair reached a good vantage. The rush through the gate almost caught them up. Socia's lack of manners saved them that unexpected adventure.
They did not get a good place among the observers. The best spots had been occupied long since.
The Castreresonese descended the hill to the Inconje works in a roiling mob, tripping over one another. They were too numerous and disorganized to march. Brother Candle groaned. 'What a waste! This city is run by idiots.'
He did not care that several idiots were within earshot- instead of out with the men running to their deaths.
Soon it seemed the consuls and magnates were not fools after all. Something could be said for terrified enthusiasm and overwhelming numbers.
By sheer bodyweight the Castreresonese breached the palisade shielding the Inconje bridgehead. They drove the Patr-archals back. Cut a great many off. Some swam the Laur to get away. The raiders captured the unfinished guard tower at the western end of the bridge: They charged the tower at the eastern end.
That tower held out for two hours. The enemy used the time to bring up artillery and crossbowmen. They laid steady missile fire on the bridge. The artillery included something that made loud noises and belched sulfurous smoke. Despite their losses, though, the Castreresonese captured the second tower and prepared to defend it.
The Patriarchals did not counterattack.
They built wooden towers that, by day's end, let them lay plunging fire on the lost towers and anyone crossing the bridge.
The watchers on the walls cheered themselves hoarse.
Brother Candle did not join in. Nor did Socia Rault.
The girl understood. The Patriarchals had not suffered crippling reverses.
The day's work meant little in the long run. Especially if Castreresone's losses left it unable to defend its entire circumference against surprise attacks.
