02 The Invaders (26 page)

T
he following morning, they broke camp and the two ships set out in company to sail down the coast to Limmat.

It was mid-afternoon when they reached their destination. There was no longer a plume of smoke rising above the town. Apparently, the pirates had gotten the fires under control. Or perhaps they had left the townspeople to look after them.

As
Heron
and
Wolfwind
headed for the beach, they saw two men waving. Barat had detailed them to wait for the
Heron
’s return and guide them through the swamps to his camp. Svengal left ten of his men behind on the beach to keep watch on the two ships. The rest of
Wolfwind
’s crew and the Herons loaded up with sacks of supplies and trudged through thigh-deep mud and water behind their guides, grumbling and complaining about the sand flies and mosquitoes, which seemed to swarm in the marshes by the thousands.

They followed a seemingly aimless path until they came to a larger-than-usual sand island. The sun was almost setting and they could see the glow of several fires as they approached.

Barat had watched them threading their way through the marsh for the last fifty meters or so and he made his way down to the beach to greet them as they squelched their way out of the muddy water. He gave a start as he saw how their numbers had increased. Eight boys and an older man had left two days before. Now they were back, with a further twenty Skandians.

“Who are these?” he asked Hal.

“Reinforcements. They’re going to help us with the attack. And those sacks they’re carrying are all full of food.”

Barat’s suspicious expression lightened considerably.

“Glad to see you,” he said. But the direction of his gaze left them in no doubt that it was the food he was most glad to see. He noticed Lydia, who was standing close by Hal and Stig, and his expression grew cool.

“Hullo, Lydia.”

She nodded a greeting. “Hi, Barat. Nice place you’ve got here.”

She looked around the island. The men who had escaped from the town had no time to gather tents or tarpaulins when they retreated. Instead, they had constructed rough thatched shelters from tree branches and bushes. A burly figure was approaching them and Hal recognized Jonas, who had been Barat’s second in command when they had first met several days before. The older Limmatan smiled a welcome now.

“You’re back!” He too noticed the sacks. “And you didn’t come empty-handed! Welcome to our lovely seaside holiday home, Lydia. How do you like it?”

He swept an arm around, in a gesture that encompassed the low-lying, scrubby island.

Lydia returned his grin. “It’s just lovely, Jonas. Everything a girl could want.”

“Well, come on into the camp and meet the rest of us,” Jonas said, addressing Hal. He frowned and stepped closer, then spoke in a mock whisper, “If you don’t mind my saying, you seem to have increased and multiplied since you’ve been gone.”

Hal nodded. He liked Jonas. He had an easy, cheerful manner about him—in contrast to Barat’s awkward, suspicious approach. Hal also sensed that Jonas’s friendly greeting was intended to compensate for Barat’s lack of welcome.

“Let’s get to your camp,” Hal said. “I’ll introduce you all then.”

They made their way into the camp proper. Jonas directed them to the cooking fire and the sacks of food were dumped there for the cooks to sort through and prepare a meal. Hal wasn’t worried about handing over the food. They’d only be here for a few days if everything went to plan. Once they’d defeated the pirates, they could reprovision in Limmat.

And if they didn’t defeat them, he thought grimly, they’d have no need of food.

They grouped around several fires while the meal was prepared and served. Spirits in the camp were high. Most of the men who had escaped from the town were only too glad to see their numbers increased by a body of trained warriors like the Skandians. Unlike their suspicious battle leader, they welcomed the newcomers heartily. Truth be told, a feeling of dejection had started to permeate the camp. The Limmatans knew only too well that forty of them had little hope of dislodging more than a hundred pirates from a well-fortified position like the town. The arrival of the nine members of
the
Heron
crew, and now twenty additional Skandians, seemed to be a good omen. Accordingly, the meal was a cheerful one, with a lot of laughter and good fellowship.

When they were finished eating, the more senior members of the Limmatan party gathered round a smaller fire with Hal, Stig, Lydia, Thorn and Svengal. Ingvar, who had eaten at one of the other fires, moved over and sat a few paces behind Hal, in case he was needed. Svengal’s second in command, Lars Bentknuckle, joined them as they waited for Hal to lay out the details of his plan.

Svengal and Lars, like most Skandians, claimed no ability to plan and no affinity for tactics. They were fighting men and they left such details to other people. All they asked was to be given a clear target and purpose and they’d happily go into battle.

Barat made some pretense at being a leader and a tactician. But in fact, he had been trying to think of a way to attack and defeat the pirates for some days now, to no avail. While he maintained the fiction that he had the authority to approve or reject Hal’s plans, the truth was, he was hoping that the young Skandian would come up with a battle plan that would bring them a victory—although he had not the slightest inkling of what that plan might entail. At the same time, he was slightly jealous of the young Skandian skirl, possibly due to what he saw as Lydia’s defection. So even though part of him hoped for a viable plan, another part was all too ready to criticize whatever Hal came up with.

“Surprise,” said Hal, when they had all gathered close around the fire. “That’s going to be the key to success for us. If we can take them by surprise, we can negate their advantage in numbers.”

He spoke confidently. But the idea, once he had it, seemed so
obvious that he was inclined to mistrust it. He couldn’t help feeling that he must have left something out of his calculations. He shrugged mentally. If he had, both Thorn and Svengal were experienced campaigners. They might not be able to put a plan together themselves. But they would recognize any weaknesses if they saw them.

At least, he hoped they would.

“They know we’re here,” Barat sneered. “Little hard to surprise them, isn’t it?”

“They don’t know I’m here,” Svengal pointed out. He was already becoming tired of this self-important Limmatan, who seemed always ready to criticize, but never put forward an idea of his own. “And that’s come as a surprise to a good many enemies in the past.”

“True,” Thorn put in. “Svengal can be a nasty surprise.”

Lars and a few of the Limmatans chuckled at that. Barat raised his eyebrows. He was annoyed by the prompt response to his criticism and annoyed that his fellow townsmen had laughed. But he refused to let this Skandian roughneck see it.

Hal pushed on, ignoring the exchange, seeking to smooth things over.

“You’re right, Barat,” he said. “The pirates know you’re here. And they’ll expect any attack to come from this side of the town.”

“Naturally,” Barat said. “If we tried to go round the palisade, they’d see us and they could simply move their forces to counter us.”

“But they don’t know that you have ships now. If we move under the cover of darkness, we can ferry your men to the far side of the town—to the east. We’ll take a wide loop out into the bay
to stay out of sight, then swing back in, hugging the northern shore. I figure we can do it over two nights. There’s a promontory about four hundred meters from the town where you can stay out of sight until all your men are in position.”

During the trip down the coast, he had asked Lydia to draw him a map of the town and its surroundings. He had studied it closely and now sketched a rough version of this in the sand, pointing to the spot where the land jutted out into the bay.

“On the third night, under cover of darkness, move your men up closer to the town so you’re in position to attack at first light.

“Zavac will be watching the western side, where the marshes are—and where he thinks you are. And he’ll have his men concentrated on that side, while you’ll be attacking from a completely unexpected direction. That should give you a good chance of getting over the palisade—particularly if we mount a diversion at the watchtowers and tie up more of their men.”

“Most of them are in the watchtowers,” Jonas put in thoughtfully. “It’s the logical spot for them, after all. They can watch the marshes and the entrance to the harbor.”

“What puzzles me,” Svengal mused, “is why they’re still in the town. Surely by now, they’ve had time to load up with anything they want and be on their way.”

Hal happened to be watching Barat and Jonas when Svengal made the point. He saw the quick glance between them.

They’re hiding something from us, he thought. Neither he nor Svengal were aware that the pirates were still in Limmat because of the emerald mine. Zavac had the miners working double-time to extract the maximum possible number of precious stones from the
rich seam behind the town. And, feeling no immediate threat from the relatively small party who had escaped into the marshes, he was in no particular hurry to leave.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jonas spoke.

“There are a lot of wealthy merchants in the town,” he said. “And they keep their money well hidden. My guess is it’s taking the pirates longer than they planned to find it.”

“Regardless of why they’re here,” Barat said, “your plan isn’t going to work. I would have thought a sailor like you could see the obvious flaw.”

There was a note of something like triumph in his voice. Hal cocked his head to one side.

“Oh? And what detail have I missed?” Had the objection come from Svengal, Lars or even Jonas, he might have given it some credence. But Barat seemed almost eager to find fault.

“The wind,” Barat answered in a condescending tone. “I thought sailors knew all about that. At this time of year, the prevailing wind at night will be coming from the shore and it’ll be dead against you. It’ll take you most of the night to beat into the bay against it—particularly if you plan to take a wide loop on the way in and out. You’ll just never manage it in time and the odds are high that the invaders will see you and guess what we’re up to.”

Hal smiled, relieved that Barat hadn’t seen a real problem with the idea. Mind you, his point did have a certain validity. If
Wolfwind
, for example, tried to ferry the men into the bay, she would take too long beating into the headwind and daylight would expose her. But
Heron
was a different matter altogether.

“It won’t be a problem,” he said confidently. “My ship can sail
upwind a lot faster than normal. Eight hours of darkness will be plenty of time for us to get there and back.”

Barat opened his mouth to argue but Svengal forestalled him.

“Hal’s right. That little ship of his sails upwind like a dream. She’ll be able to nip in and out with time to spare.”

Barat subsided, a scowl on his face. Jonas leaned forward to keep the discussion moving.

“You mentioned a diversion,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“I noticed the watchtowers have a wooden balustrade,” Hal said.

Jonas nodded. “It’s pinewood.”

Hal nodded. He had assumed as much. Pine was the most readily available timber in this part of the world.

“The planks are thick enough to stop an arrow or a crossbow bolt,” Jonas went on.

“Not the kind I’ve got in mind,” Hal said, smiling. He turned to Ingvar, sitting quietly behind him, paying close attention to the conversation. “Ingvar, can I have the bolt, please?”

Ingvar reached under his jacket and produced one of the bolts from the Mangler. He handed it to Hal. Hal tossed the heavy projectile onto the sand in the middle of the circle.

“I’ve mounted an oversize crossbow in the bow of my ship,” he said. “It’ll shoot one of these at three hundred meters.”

Jonas came to his knees and retrieved the bolt. He weighed it, studied the iron-reinforced point and emitted a low whistle.

“This could make a real mess of things,” he said, and passed the bolt to Barat, who raised his eyebrows as he examined it closely.
In spite of his antipathy to the Skandians, and their young skirl in particular, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the deadly-looking projectile. He could imagine the havoc it could wreak in the wooden towers.

“I plan to cruise past the harbor mouth, attacking the two watchtowers with the Mangler,” Hal said. He saw the puzzled expressions and smiled. “That’s what we call the big crossbow. If these bolts start hitting the balustrade, they’ll smash it to pieces. Pinewood splinters easily, so they’ll send splinters flying in all directions as well.”

His listeners nodded as they pictured the scene. The splinters of pine would become like so many small, deadly projectiles themselves, scything down the defenders.

“Once we’ve got their attention concentrated on the harbor mouth, your men can break cover and attack the rear palisade. With any luck, you’ll be over it and into the town before they wake up to what’s happening.”

“What about us?” Svengal interrupted. “Do you expect us to sit quietly by while you’re having all the fun?”

Hal smiled at him. “Well, if you really want to,” he said. “After all, you’ve had a tiring time looking for us and you might want to put your feet up and rest…” He let the sentence hang and Svengal snorted dismissively. Then Hal continued.

“But I rather thought you might launch an attack from the marshes. If you take the western tower after we’ve softened it up, you can secure the boom. Then you can use the boom to get across the harbor to the second tower.”

He paused, looking questioningly at Svengal. The massive log
boom would be almost submerged, but the crew of
Wolfwind
, used to keeping their balance on a heaving deck in a storm, should be able to use it as a makeshift bridge to cross to the eastern tower, and the harbor mole. Svengal considered the idea, then nodded.