Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
Hilliard charged through their midst, flaying all he could reach with a lash and subduing them into stunned submission. Sir Kenneth, however, was just as intent upon hastening them on their way. He ignited a fresh fuse, and the cannon jumped, sending a ball hurtling toward them. Plummeting to earth amid their ranks, it raised a renewed outcry of alarm as it spewed up mud and gore, and the men scattered over the ridge.
A ricocheting shard of iron spun away, striking the shoulder of Hilliard's mount. Already terrified by the deafening roar of cannon, the destrier reared at the stinging blow and sought to rid itself of its burden.
It spun and bucked, alighting on stiffened legs, and Hilliard took flight, landing flat in a muddy puddle a full yard away. Flumes of liquid mud spewed up around him, eliciting loud guffaws and hearty laughter from those on the wall. It was a measure of Hilliard's stern constitution that marked his wallowing struggle to his feet, but by now, he was in such a high dudgeon, the soldiers realized they had as much reason to fear from him as from those on the wall. They had no cause to doubt for even an instant as he waved his musket that he would shoot any who fled.
A brief rest for the defenders of Faulder Castle ensued as Hilliard berated his men and silently corrected his own base assumptions. This Maxim Seymour was all that Nicholas had extolled him to be, and possibly even more. Only a fool would underestimate him a second time.
Archers gathered on the ridge to send their arrows raining down upon the castle yards. Shields were hastily brought to the fore to protect those manning the guns while Hilliard's men formed another charge, this time with a new intent. Now they advanced as individuals, spread out with several yards between them, and carried with them crude ladders to scale the wall. Justin and Sherbourne pressed near the wall and subjected the approaching force to the plinking attacks of arrows, but when one of the warriors fell with a shaft or a quarrel in his chest, another soldier would take his place.
The guns roared in earnest, yet each shot struck only one or two of the relentless horde. As the attackers crept closer to the wall, even Hilliard left the safety of the ridge and followed with several of his
Hansa lackies. The advancing army progressed until the cannons overshot, and Maxim bade his crew to leave the guns and man the wall. The deluge of arrows ceased from Hilliard's camp, allowing the attackers to scale the stone barrier, but Fitch, Spence, Dietrich, and the stable boy came running with kettles of bubbling lard to discourage their climb. As Hilliard's forces braced the top of their ladders against the parapet and surged upward, they were welcomed with cascades of boiling fat. Agonized screams rent the air as the burned soldiers toppled from their lofty perches, but the cool earth beneath the ladders was no place to salve their hurts, for in the next instant a flaming wall leapt upward along the stone barrier as torches were tossed upon the pies of dry wood now sprinkled profusely with
fat. Soldiers screamed in sudden horror as their soaked garments ignited, and they fled in panic, thereby fanning the flames that quickly consumed them.
Hilliard's presence rapidly diminished as a threat to the fleeing soldiers, for their pain was such that they almost welcomed a shot from his musket. The Hansa agent saw his forces crumpling around him, but he was wise enough to perceive that if he did not soothe their panic with a gentle hand, he would lose them en masse. He called for the soldiers to regroup beyond the ridge, and as they fled toward the safety it promised, the cannons commenced their destructive reports again, successfully striking where they would do the most damage.
As they waited Hilliard marked his time, bolstering the courage of the men he had left and rallying
their spirits with promises of greater reward. He was himself devastated by their losses. He had come with more than four score men; now he hardly had a score capable of continuing the fight. Not only had his numbers been drastically reduced, but he found the swiftness by which they bad been dispatched demoralizing. He chided himself for having listened to
Frau
Hanz when she had foolishly derided the resources and capability of the castle's protectors. She had obviously been blinded by one more cunning than she. As for himself, he had been as much of a buffoon to accept her judgment.
Elise took advantage of the lull to reassure herself that none of their small number had been seriously hurt. The worst that had been done was to Sherbourne who had had an arrow graze his cheek. As she washed the wound and dabbed a poultice on it, she teased him that such a handsome scar would surely intrigue the ladies in England. Dietrich brought out food to nourish their bodies and tea, milk, and water to quench their thirst, and for a time they rested as they waited for another attack to begin.
It was early afternoon before the flames died down, leaving blackened scars reaching upward over the stone from the glowing ash heaps tracing along the front of the wall. The stiff, charred remains of several soldiers who had not been swift enough to escape the flames was a gruesome sight for those who had to face the prospect of scaling the wall. They could only wonder what this devil Englishman had planned for them next.
Once again the advancing army spread out along the line, this time moving so far apart that both
Maxim and Sir Kenneth deemed it a waste to fire the cannons. The four of them took up crossbows, but even those became ineffectual when the enemy reached within close proximity of the wall, for the assaulting force managed to brace their ladders in sheltered corners and were soon climbing over the parapets.
Lances confronted those who succeeded, and Maxim thrust this way and that to dissuade the attackers, but it was already a foregone conclusion that his men would be seriously outnumbered in hand-to-hand combat. He hurled an order for his companions to flee to the safety of the keep, and as they obeyed, his blade sang free and bought him space to retreat. He leapt down from the wall and raced swiftly across the courtyard. The open portal welcomed him, and as he gained the safety of the hall, the panel slammed shut behind him, and a second later, the bar dropped in place.
Maxim caught up a ready bow and, jerking open the shutter of an arrow slit, managed to narrow the outside forces by at least three before the assailants blocked the opening with a well-braced plank He caught sight of several men cranking up the portcullis of the gate and knew Hilliard would be in the courtyard soon. It would only be a matter of time ere the butt of a log would be smashing at the front door.
“Hilliard's men will shortly overrun the hall,” Maxim announced as he faced the others. “Our retreat will be to the uppermost chamber. Now take heart, men, for we've not yet come to the end of our resources.” He motioned for Sir Kenneth to provide
the translation for the stable lad and the cook as he turned to Elise who waited on the stairs. Taking her close in his arms, he assured her, “Hilliard has not seen the last of my plans, my pet. We shall take him yet. Have no fear.”
Elise passed a trembling hand along his soot-smudged cheek. “I feel no fear when you are near, my lord.”
“The time approaches when we must deal Hilliard his just due,” Maxim replied. “Take the boy up with you now, and watch for our coming. âTwill not be long ere we join you.”
Gathering her courage, Elise obeyed his directive and encouraged the youth to accompany her. The men took their places and braced themselves for the inevitable invasion of the hall. It was now only a matter of moments away. Dietrich hefted a heavy iron skillet and set himself to guard the stairs, while Justin grasped an axe and waited beside Maxim. Sherbourne, Kenneth, Fitch, and Spence completed the force of stalwart defenders, nocking arrows against their bowstrings a short distance from the portal.
Hilliard's harsh voice carried from outside as he ordered a troop of mounted mercenaries to bring a ramming log forward. Hardly a second later, the destruction of the door commenced. Beneath the force of a fourth blow, the bar splintered, and with the next, it broke in half, letting the panel swing wide. Arrows showered those who plunged through the opening first, crumpling the forward thrust of the attack. Those who followed did not even pause as they leapt over their fallen companions and surged
inside to be met with blade, axe, and skillet. Maxim backed away from the portal, finding himself confronted by three of the enemy. He drove the boldest one to his knees with a kick to the groin, then eased the man's pain with his sword. In the next instant he blocked the thrusting attack of another's blade and gallantly stood against the two until one of them heaved a gurgling sigh and sank to the stone floor, clutching the haft of a spear which protruded from his chest. Maxim had no time to lend his
gratitude to Sir Kenneth as another handful of men surged inside.
Though many of the enemy fell, Maxim and his companions were forced ever backward toward the stairs. Hilliard stayed at the rear of his men, hurling orders and sharp commands while pushing others back into the fray. When one of his Hansa cohorts caught a stroke from an axe across his belly and fled screaming, the agent coldly ended his flight with a powerful blow from a massive mace that he carried in his right hand. A sweep from a double length of chain which he clutched in his left sent the lifeless form tumbling away. Hilliard made it clear that he would countenance no retreat from this battle.
His act seemed to infuriate Justin, who leapt forward with a cry of pure rage. There was no one to shield Hilliard, and he took the force of Justin's attack with feet braced wide apart. The agent had outfitted himself for battle before entering the keep and barely moved under the impact as the axe careened harmlessly off his chest. A jeering sneer twisted Hilliard's heavy lips as he brushed the young man aside with a thickly padded arm. The
spiked iron ball swished forward, intruding into the space rapidly vacated by the nimble youth. Dodging away, Justin bounced off the wall and quickly whirled to avoid another swipe from the murderous mace. As he came fully around, he had his weapon at the ready and did not miss a chance to take a slice at the distended belly. The padded leather doublet split beneath his blow, but alas, the axe met a barrier of steely stays hidden underneath.
Though Justin slashed and hacked with all the venging fervor of his years, his weapon was ever repelled by ball or chain. Hilliard became incensed at the gall of this lad and pressed his own attack with blatant force. When Justin swung with all of his strength at a perceived opening, Hilliard lashed out with the chain, wrapping the links tightly around the handle, just behind the head. He jerked hard, snatching the axe from the other's grasp and pulling him off-balance. Unable to catch himself, Justin stumbled forward, and a gleam of anticipated triumph brightened Hilliard's eyes as he recognized that one's vulnerability. The mace swept forward in vengeance, grazing Justin's shoulder with enough force to send him reeling backward into the stone wall. A cry of pain was wrenched from him, giving evidence to the depth of his injury, but as Hilliard stepped forward to finish his work, he was rudely jostled aside by the sprawling form of a soldier who had fallen victim to the Marquess's
blade.
“You spineless coward!” Maxim chidingly called, deliberately distracting the agent from his goal. “When are you going to come forth and fight like a man? You hide behind your men and have not the courage you demand of others.”
The heckling forced all thought of Justin from the agent's mind, and no further notice was given to the young man who stumbled toward the stairs holding his injured shoulder. Hilliard had locked his gaze on the one who had in the last months become a constant source of serious vexation for him, and all else ceased to matter. With a low growl the Hansa leader lumbered forward, elbowing his way through the press of soldiers. His grievances against the man could not be assuaged until he pounded him into a lifeless pulp. Desire to savor that revenge swept all caution from his mind.
Maxim leapt adroitly backward to miss the wickedly swinging mace and realized he not only faced Hilliard, but five of his Hansa compatriots. His thrusting, flashing blade protected him as he backed toward the stairs, and he was immensely relieved when Sir Kenneth and Sherbourne set themselves beside him. He felt the back of his boot strike the bottom step and as he lifted his foot upon it, Kenneth grabbed the tall candle stand that resided nearby and swung it around in a wide sweep, knocking noggins together and setting helmets awry with a vengeance, then he seized it by its base and thrust it forward like a ramming log against the stout form of Karr Hilliard. The rotund agent swept several of his men with him as he stumbled backward, and as they writhed in a confused melee on the floor, the castle defenders escaped up the stairs.
Reaching the highest level, the men raced down the hall to join the others in the chambers, which of late had been used by the three bachelors. The door was slammed shut and barred, and it was only then
that the men stared at each other in sudden apprehension, for now it seemed that they would become sitting quarry when Hilliard and his troop broke down the door. Though none expressed their fears, each imagined a gruesome end . . . all save Maxim, who pressed an ear to the door until he could hear the thundering footsteps coming up the stairs. Turning to face the occupants of the room, he pressed a finger across his lips to silence them, then quickly crossed to the secret panel. Sighs of relief were joyfully expelled as he opened the hidden door. The wick of a candle was set aflame, and silently Maxim motioned Kenneth to escort Elise down the stairs. The Hansards were already pounding at the door and hacking at the sturdy planks with an axe, but Maxim took the time to push open the windows and shutters
before joining his companions for the simple pleasure of confusing the enemy. Closing and securing the secret panel behind him, he swiftly descended the stairs until he reached the lower door where Kenneth waited with Elise. The knight gestured toward the chamber, and as Maxim pressed an ear to the portal, he could hear someone rummaging in the room. Careful not to make a sound, he opened the panel and saw the broad back of one of the mercenaries bent over a large chest. The intruder riffled through it, tossing the contents hither and yon, then as he draped a leather doublet over his shoulder, he paused and canted his head as if he heard some sound close behind him. Seizing his sword, he whirled to meet the presence he sensed was there, but it was only to meet his death with Maxim's blade piercing his chest.