At sunrise, Hellwas unleashed.
Flying sky blue standards with yellowfleur de lis, Jean II of France unleashed his great war machines on the fortress of Melesse and by mid-morning, a horrible battle was underway.
It was as Brandt had feared. They knew very well the Black Angel had separated himself from the Prince of Wales, and they intended to keep de Russe bottled up and away from Edward, who was having some issues of his own with other French nobles. Divide and conquer seemed to be the French battle cry.
Jean traveled with thousands of men. Brandt estimated it was at least four thousand. They had a sea of foot soldiers, mounted cavalry, and archers. Melesse was boxed in very early on, for the massive walls did not have a moat because they weremore than twenty feet high and the gatehouse was like a fortress itself. The gates themselves were iron, without wood to burn that would soften the iron, and there were three portcullises to prevent an easy breech. Moreover, the portcullis were aligned so that Brandt could post a legion of archers inside the bailey, shooting out of the gatehouse to all those crowded around the exterior of the gatehouse. It was a very simple thing to pick men off as they tried to breach the gates.
Flaming pots of tar and oil were slung over the walls, some bursting against the keep, others hitting the floor of the bailey and splashing their flaming contents out over men and animals. Stefan, in fact, had been sprayed with burning tar but his armor prevented any serious damage. He had been extremely hot in it, however, until Magnus had rolled him in the dirt to quench the flame.
Most of the knights had taken to mounting the walls with crossbows, picking off those attacking the walls. Because of the terrain surrounding the castle, the sloping mountain, it made it exceptionally difficult for the king’s army to gain a good foothold for positioning ladders against the walls, and siege towers were impossible. But the mangonels and ballistas, positioned further down the slope, had adequate footing to hurl their deadly cargo over the walls.
Brandt remained on the walls most of the morning, monitoring the gatehouse and watching the ballistas down below as they were reloaded. He tried to anticipate their trajectory and move men away from the area where they were presumed to hit. He was very good at predicting their targets, saving lives of men. But as the day wore on into night, the king’s army would not give up. Realizing the walls were nearly impossible to scale, they focused their numbers on the gatehouse and things began to happen.
At sunset, the first ladders began going up on the gatehouse, which was amply protected. However, there were corbels on the structure that were big enough for men to gain footholds, and there was a window for light and air on the third story of the structure overlooking the road below. Conceivably, men could mount the ladders and use the corbels to propel themselves up to that window. It was risky but possible, and that was exactly what the French were intent on doing.
Brandt could see their plan, however, and charged up to the third floor of the gatehouse with Brennan, Magnus, Dylan, and Alex along with several heavily armed soldiers to wait for them. As the war machines continued to hurl missiles over the walls, men began climbing the gatehouse with the intent of breeching it. Brandt and his men were waiting. The first soldier that managed to thrust himself through the single window had his head ripped off, courtesy of Brandt. The duke literally grabbed the man by the head, twisted, and yanked.
It was an ugly, bloody fight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was thatdream again, only this time, there was a different dimension to it.
Behind her, the castle had melted until it looked like soft butter. Everything was running onto the ground, now blending with the mud and the rain. Standing over the knight leaning against the tree, she could only stare at the crest on the breastplate. She knew it. It was the talons of the de Russe dragon, the Duke of Exeter. It was Brandt. She knew it was Brandt even though she couldn’t see his face.
“God, help me!” she cried.
The child in her belly was kicking terribly, as if he knew his father was dying. Kicking and kicking until it caused her pain and she gripped her belly, holding it, as stabs of agony ripped through her body. She ceased to see the man at her feet any longer, only concerned with the pain radiating through her torso. The baby’s kicking lessened but the pain was still there. The kicking faded until it was virtually no more. She couldn’t feel the kicking any longer. As the last embers of life diminished from the father, so perhaps did they diminish from the child. Both of them were dying and she could do nothing to help them.
Crying out, she awoke in a cold sweat.
*
Something was wrongwith the child. She knew that the moment she awoke in agony. As the battle raged below, she held her bellyand wept, terrified that something was horribly amiss. Annabeth and Bridget, keeping company with her in the barricaded room, were alerted to the sounds of her weeping.
“My lady?” Annabeth was on the bed beside her. “What is amiss?”
Ellowyn wiped her eyes, struggling to calm herself. She was terrified. “I… I will be all right,” she assured her frightened ladies. “I am sure it is simply the fear of the battle causing me to….”
“Causingwhat?”
“…well, there is some pain, but I am sure it will go away.”
Annabeth’s eyes widened but she held her control. Bridget, seated on the other side of the bed, reached out to touch Ellowyn’s arm.
“We shall find the midwife,” she said. “Do not distress, my lady. We shall find her.”
Ellowyn shook her head, reaching over to grasp Bridget before the woman could run off. She was very fast in that respect.
“Nay,” she insisted. “It will pass, I am sure. Moreover, the midwife is in town and it would be impossible to get through the closed gates.”
“Then I will seek the duke’s surgeon,” Bridget insisted. “He must be able to help.”
Again, Ellowyn shook her head, holding fast to Bridget so she would not run away. “He is tending wounded,” she said. “It would be foolish to pull him away from dozens of injured men to come and tend one woman. Nay, leave him be. You are here. You are all of the help I need.”
“But… then I must send for the duke!”
“You will do no such thing. This will pass.”
