The Crown of the Usurper (18 page)

  Betraying Ullsaard felt wrong, but the situation looked hopeless. Before he even knew what he was doing, Gelthius was climbing down the ladder to the ground. He saw Muuril standing by the main doors of the villa and turned away sharply lest the sergeant see something in the captain's expression. Feeling heavy with guilt but unable to stop himself, he walked around the stable block and headed towards the rear of the villa. There were several legionnaires between the building and the wall, standing on piled crates, one on a chair, to peer over at the advancing enemy.

  "Aye, here's the captain!" one of them, Anjoor, called out.

  Gelthius tried to think of something funny to say but his mind was too filled with fear for wit. All he could think of was making sure he survived to see Maredin and the children again. He just about managed to raise a hand to wave in acknowledgement and then hurried on, heading directly for the gardens at the rear.

  The sun was just about strong enough for light to creep around the villa and bathe the shore in dim greyness, the occasional fleck of red catching on waves and ripples. Gelthius was aware of the six men down by the water's edge, their lanterns gleaming bright in the darkness. It might be good to make a quick inspection of the sentries, the captain told himself. He tried to ignore the sounds of marching men rising beyond the walls as he made his way down the stepped pavement towards the quayside.

  He was halfway to the water when he heard a shout from a man to his left. Gripped by guilt, thinking that somehow the guard had guessed his cowardly intent, Gelthius stopped immediately. He realised he was still in the light spilling between the slats of the shutters on the rear windows, and so easy for anyone to see, silhouetted against the house. He was about to turn back and seek shelter inside the building when he heard his name being called from the man at the lakeside.

  "Captain! Captain Gelthius! Something in the water."

  The smoke from the fires was drifting across the surface of the lake, making it impossible to see more than two dozen paces, but Gelthius could hear distant splashing as he scampered down the last steps and reach the shouting sentry.

  "Boat?" he asked, bringing up his shield in case a vessel was to suddenly emerge laden with men of the Twenty-first.

  They listened for a while, during which the quiet was broken by the slap of the spear thrower firing and a cheer for the men atop the tower. Even with the advantage of elevation, that meant that the lead ranks of the Twenty-first had to be well within half a mile.

  Trying hard to push aside all the other noises he could hear – the crackle of the fires, the noise of the men reloading the spear thrower, the crunch of small stones under his sandals – Gelthius strained to hear the splashing.

  "That way," said the sentry, pointing coldwards along the shore. Some of the other men were heading along the lake path, drawn by the commotion. Gelthius ignored their shouts of inquiry and looked out across the lake as best he could.

  Sure enough, there was something in the gloom. The dawn light was catching on more ripples and there was the sound of slow but steady splashing. It was not enough noise to be a body of men but Gelthius could not relax.

  "Who's out there?" he demanded. There was no reply and Gelthius' eyes were stinging from the smoke.

  "We'll take out a boat," he said, pointing back towards the short stone jetty. There were two boats, one with four large sweeps, the other with sweeps and a sail. Deciding that if things came to the worst, he could probably shove the legionnaire over the side and sail to freedom, Gelthius told the other sentries to go back to their posts.

  Between the two of them, they managed to get the sail lifted. Untying the rope on the jetty, Gelthius stopped for a moment, his attention attracted by a concerted shout from outside the compound: the sound of men charging. He turned to call out to the men on the tower, but stopped himself. He was too far away for them to hear or reply.

  "One thing, just one thing at a time," he muttered, pushing the boat and jumping over the widening gap to land next to the sentry, Aduris.

  "What's that, captain?"

  "Never mind." Gelthius took a quick look around the small deck and pointed to a rope attached to the yard arm. "Fasten that to that hook there, and I'll man the tiller."

  Under the ex-fisherman's directions, Aduris trimmed the sail and Gelthius managed to get them underway, heading in the direction of the faint noise. Away from the shore, Gelthius felt a calm descending on him. He could barely see the villa in the smoke and the jetty was fast fading from view as well. Soon the two men were cocooned in a grey mass, barely able to see twenty paces.

  Aduris was a good soldier, and as tempting as it was to leave Ullsaard and the Thirteenth to their fate, Gelthius couldn't bring himself to kill the man in cold blood; either by spear or drowning. And on top of that, there was no point making a break for freedom if he was going to sail into a fleet of enemies out on the lake.

  "It'd be quicker if we rowed as well," said Aduris.

  "And noisier," replied Gelthius. "Got to listen, ain't we?"

  So they kept quiet and listened. Gelthius heard splashing to his left, closer to the shore, and Aduris pointed and nodded.

  "Something that way," said the legionnaire.

  Gelthius moved the tiller and had Aduris trim the sail again. As they glided across the water, the slosh of small waves against the hull did not mask a louder splashing coming from ahead. Further out on the lake the smoke was thinner, but still Gelthius could not see anything. The captain tied the tiller to keep them on a straight line and prodded Aduris with his foot.

  "Get to the prow and keep a sharp eye," Gelthius told Aduris. The soldier moved to the bow and almost immediately looked back at Gelthius, animated.

  "Just to the left a little," said Aduris, fetching his spear from where he'd stowed it in the bottom of the boat. Gelthius adjusted the course and peered ahead. There was a shape in the gloom, low in the water. As they came closer, Gelthius saw arms rising and falling in powerful, slow strokes. The swimmer was about thirty- five or forty paces away, almost perpendicular to the boat's heading.

  "Ho there!" the captain called out, getting to his feet. "Stop where you are!"

  The swimmer complied immediately, a head bobbing into view, arms moving back and forth as the man treaded water.

  "Captain Gelthius? Is that you?"

  Now that he was closer, and with the aid of the voice, Gelthius recognised Gebriun. He had a short beard, several days' worth, but the face was unmistakeable. Gelthius called out with wordless delight, but then realisation hit him and his stomach knotted and his joy died.

  "You're alive?" said the captain as Aduris helped the naked legionnaire into the boat. "But Faasil said th–"

  "Faasil's been paid off," gasped Gebriun. The four words struck Gelthius like hammer blows, each a punch that made his gut spasm. The captain looked back at the shore as Gebriun continued, between deep breaths, but could see nothing in the gloom. "He tried to turn me too, and when I said no he had the Twenty-first come for me. I managed to escape, ran for it and hid out in the country hoping to find you or one of the others, but the legion was already days ahead of me. When I got here, I saw that there were soldiers in Menesun and the villa was surrounded. I've had to swim about three miles."

  "We have to get back, warn the others," said Aduris, grabbing one of the sweeps. He held it out to Gebriun. "Have you still got enough breath?"

  "You steer, I'll row," said Gelthius. Not less than a quarter of an hour before, Gelthius had been ready to run out on the men of the Thirteenth, but now he grabbed the oar and sat down, nodding for Gebriun to take the tiller. Gelthius had planned to quit the villa if things turned badly, but now that Faasil had been revealed as a traitor it somehow meant more to Gelthius that Ullsaard won. It somehow made it more real that his comrades, men who had been good to him, were about to die, and he couldn't let that happen without being with them, even if it meant he would die too.

 

It had always been one of Ullsaard's principles that he only started fights that he was sure he would win. Of late that principle had been tested several times, but none more so than now. He had not chosen this battle, and had certainly not desired any kind of confrontation, but he was forced to deal with the situation as he found it.

  The archers along the road had done little to buy the time Ullsaard had hoped for; twenty men with bows could do nothing to hold back several companies of soldiers in full armour and with shields raised. Without proper bellows-bows the men had difficulty penetrating the defences of the oncoming legion and so Ullsaard had quickly sent word for the bowmen to withdraw to the villa; there was no point risking them being killed by Lutaan's archers.

  Though his force was outnumbered six-to-one, Ullsaard was not despondent about his chances of victory. A good wall counted for a lot, and in their desire to bring Ullsaard to battle swiftly, Lutaan and Asuhas had not brought siege engines with them. Assault was the only option, and that was the easiest kind of attack to face. Bombardment would have been far more effective, forcing Ullsaard to either sally out and be butchered, or reduce his newly fortified home to rubble around him.

  A hard fight across a well-defended obstacle was not the most desirable engagement for a legionnaire, and if Ullsaard's men could hold the wall long enough, and inflict enough casualties, the ranks would take matters into their own hands. It only took a few to decide that the risk was too great, the reward too little, and others would soon follow. And once one assault failed it was all the harder to have the men try again.

  Ullsaard prowled the small area of the balcony like Blackfang padding back and forth in her pen below. The king could see the three columns advancing on the villa and he wanted to do something other than sit and wait for them to land the first blow. He had racked his brains for some action that he could take to even the odds in his favour, and he had dismissed them all as too risky for uncertain gain. He had considered sneaking out in the night and setting fires in the legion camp, but a quick scouting party led by Muuril had returned with the news that the Twenty-first had double sentries on duty; Lutaan had not trusted his inexperienced officers and soldiers to keep good watch and had taken precautions.

  The smoke was also a good ploy on the part of Ullsaard's opponent. Even in the rolling clouds of fume the columns could be seen and heard, but their exact numbers were hidden. It made the most sense for the gate to be the target of the strongest attack, but Lutaan knew this also and might instead try to overwhelm one of the other walls. It was a matter of bluff and double-bluff. The best Ullsaard could do was keep a careful watch and be sure to respond quickly as the battle developed.

  He wanted to be down in the courtyard, spear and shield in his hands, ready to fight himself, but reason told him that he needed to maintain a loftier view. If his presence would make a difference, he would fight where needed, but he would not know where his presence would have the greatest impact unless he kept a proper overview of the battle; and that meant being on the balcony, and keeping one ear cocked for a shout from one of the men tasked with bringing reports from the lakeward side of the compound and the wall to coldwards.

  Swirls and shadows in the smoke showed the snaking lines of the three-pronged attack. The company coming up the road was closest, but only by fifty paces or less. Lutaan had timed the assault well and all three columns would arrive at about the same moment. Ullsaard was certain that there were more men to coldwards than dawnwards.

  He looked for Captain Gelthius, but the Salphor was not in the spear thrower tower and not in the courtyard. Irritated, Ullsaard swept an eye over the men, looking for someone else who could be trusted with the orders. Leaning over he saw his Companion almost directly below the balcony, on the steps of the main door, ready to defend the entrance if the enemy should break through the gate or come over the walls.

  "Muuril, move ten men to the coldwards wall," the king called down. "And stay there yourself."

  "Aye, King," replied the sergeant, lifting his spear in acknowledgement. Ullsaard watched as names were called out and ten men were brought back from around the gate and on the wall behind the hotwards outbuildings. The group trotted out of sight around the corner of the stable wing.

  Despite the smoke, Ullsaard could see ladders being carried over the heads of the lead companies. They were not tall ladders – the compound wall was not even twice the height of a man – but there were lots of them.

  "Archers, target the ladder carriers!" Ullsaard shouted. "Slow them down."

  The twang of bowstrings and hiss of arrows slicing air disturbed the quiet. The king could also hear the tramping of the Twenty-first, getting louder and louder on the road. He fancied he heard the voices of the officers calling out, shouting words of reproach or encouragement. The crackle of the flames was not so loud as it had been, and though the light from the fires had died down, the rising sun was more than making up for the loss.

  "Duskwatch, third hour," came the shout from somewhere below, follow by the clang of a knife pommel hitting a bell. "Third hour!"

  Ullsaard smiled. Lutaan had told the king to his face exactly when the attack would reach the walls, and he was out by only a matter of a couple of hundred paces. Ullsaard admired that sort of boldness, even as he also respected the organisation it had required to get three thousand men into position at such a precise time.

  "At the wall!" The shout was from the spear thrower crew. Ullsaard turned around and looked up at the men, who were swivelling their machine to coldwards. One of them saw the king looking and pointed. "Hundreds of them, king, at the coldwards wall."