“But if it fails, you may be in danger.”
“If I am sending men to fight and die, then they need to see me there, standing beside them. Would Eskkar do any less?”
No amount of words changed her mind. Before midnight, she arrived at Tanner’s Lane, accompanied by her four Hawk Clan guards. She wore the short sword Eskkar had given her belted around her waist. He had taught her how to use it after Korthac’s defeat.
Near one of the watch fires, Bantor and Luroc waited together for her arrival. Even in the flickering light, she saw the worry on Bantor’s face.
“The men are ready, Lady Trella.” At least Bantor knew better than to argue with her in front of the Sumerian.
“Nothing was said about me being tied to a rope.” Luroc’s words, though spoken just above a whisper, sounded bitter.
Luroc had been forced to remove his tunic, and a slim but stout rope was fastened around his waist, then fed out through a hole cut in the back of the garment. Wakannh had the other end of the rope fastened around his body.
“That’s just in case you decide to slip over the wall and rejoin your companions,” Trella said. “Though they’d probably kill you anyway at the first alarm.” She had been the one who suggested the rope to Bantor. “Wakannh will stand next to you at all times, as if one of your trusted men. If you try to escape, or give us away, you’ll find yourself hanging over the fire pit in the morning.”
“I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”
“Then all will be well for both of us,” she answered.
The waiting began. The moon still climbed upward in the heavens, slower than it usually did, it seemed to those watching. But at last the moon reached its zenith.
“Clear the wall,” Bantor ordered in a low voice. One by one, the sentries on the wall ducked below the wall, then dropped to the ground below or moved rapidly but silently down the parapet’s steps. The barbarians, if indeed they were out there, would have been waiting for the guards to be taken out.
Luroc, with Wakannh at his side, moved to the top of the wall, now empty of sentries. Luroc leaned over and waved a bit of white cloth.
Neither man could see much, but then Luroc stiffened. Wakannh saw them, too, and his hand tightened on the rope.
The ground beyond the ditch seemed to be alive, like a field covered with locusts, as crouched men moved quickly and silently over the empty ground. In moments, a wave of men dropped down into the ditch. Bent low, they raced to the base of the wall. It took only moments to locate the two ropes Bantor’s men had thrown over the edge.
The ropes tightened as men started the climb. Ladders bumped softly against the wall as well. Then a figure swung up over the top, glanced around, and saw the two men standing there. The whites of the barbarian’s eyes shone in the moonlight. He swung over the wall, his hand on his sword.
“Wait!” Luroc whispered just loud enough to be heard. “I’m Luroc. The way is clear.”
Without waiting for a reply, Luroc turned away, and he and Wakannh moved to the steps and raced down the steps. They disappeared into the shadows at the entrance to the lane.
Bantor waited for them there. He could hear the small sounds of bodies scraping and slipping over the wall. Soon he saw the barbarians, their number swelling, readying weapons.
From the shadows a few steps away, Trella watched the parapet fill with the enemy. More and more kept coming, helped up and over by their companions. She heard the faint rasp of swords being drawn from scabbards, and noted the silhouette of one or two bows.
Behind her the soldiers shifted, their breathing coming faster as they tensed up for the coming struggle. But their small sounds were masked by those on the wall. In the faint moonlight, Trella saw that everyone had moved to their assigned places. At last she heard the sound of wood scraping against wood as the barricades moved into position, blocking off the parapet. If the barbarians detected them, they made no outcry.
“It’s time.” Bantor’s whisper sounded harsh.
Trella moved silently across the open space at the end of the lane. Behind her the soldiers formed up in silence. Looking up, she saw the wall now swarmed with men. Some began to drop down off the parapet, others found the steps and ran down, and still more heads and shoulders crawled over the wall into the city.
Wakannh’s voice boomed out over the lane. “Hoist the torches!”
The Alur Meriki froze in place as the first torch flared into being and was pushed out over the lane from the rooftop. Every eye watched as the long pole extended its flaming contents over the intruders, joined quickly by another and another, until five torches sputtered and blazed on each side of the open space and the barbarians could see the line of bowmen facing them, with another line of spearmen kneeling just in front of them, lances extended upwards. The Alur Meriki had time for that one glance.
“Loose!” Bantor’s voiced echoed off the walls. For a brief moment the barbarians didn’t move, not until the first wave of forty arrows crashed into their midst.
Warriors dropped like stones, screaming in pain as the arrows struck them. But the arrow storm unleashed the fury of men who suddenly realized they’d been lured into a trap. In the torchlight they could clearly see that every house and stall in the lane was boarded up, giving them no place to go but into the arrows ahead of them.
Bantor drew his sword. The leader of the bowmen continued to call the cadence and another flight of arrows, aimed low, struck at the invaders. Those barbarians still standing rushed forward, screaming their war cries as they charged at the forty men in front of them. Other Alur Meriki reinforcements continued to climb over the wall, eager to join the fighting and as yet unaware of what was happening.
Bantor’s third wave of shafts included shafts from other archers on the rooftops, as bowmen climbed into position and added their own arrows to the carnage below them. The barbarians had only to cover about thirty paces to come to grips with their opponents, but the shafts flew again, and this time the charge broke.
The warriors had brought few bows of their own, certain that swords would be the most useful weapon once inside the walls. Instead they found themselves attacked by bowmen under the blaze of torches that lit the scene all too clearly.
Some tried to tear down the boards that blocked entry to the houses but the archers on the opposite roof turned their arrows on them. Others tried to move along the parapet, but the heavy wooden barricades, positioned to extend out over the parapet’s edge, blocked that path, too. Behind those barricades stood villagers and soldiers with spears, who thrust at every head or hand that tried to climb over or swing around them. A few Alur Meriki managed to leap up and grasp two of the torches and dash them out, but it made no difference. Even two or three torches would have provided enough light for the archers.
Suddenly, the Alur Meriki began moving back, jamming the steps or pulling themselves up to the parapet, with no other thought in their minds but to get back over the wall. The archers’ shafts continued to find them. Bantor shouted another order and the bowmen moved slowly forward, shooting together under command, shooting again and again until they reached the base of the parapet. By then nothing moved, not even the wounded at their feet, who died from a quick spear thrust. Shouting continued from the walls, as archers kept shooting at the surviving barbarians as they fled back across the ditch.
Bantor bellowed out a command to secure the wall, and soldiers began clearing the dead off the steps and parapet. Trella knew the fight here had finished. She turned to find Annok-sur at her side, a short sword gleaming in the torchlight.
A cheer went up from the men, the volume increasing until everyone had joined in, shouts of victory mixed with laughter at the barbarians, who had carefully planned their assault yet still stumbled into a deadly trap. Trella found herself surrounded by gleeful soldiers and villagers, as she turned away from the carnage and headed back to the Compound.
“That should send them running back to their clan,” Annok-sur said. “It looks like we’ve killed more than half of them, I’m sure.”
“The cavalry from Bisitun will hunt down any stragglers in the morning,” Trella agreed. “I think those who escape will have little inclination to raid our lands.”
“You planned this as well as Eskkar.”
