Chapter 10 – Precipice
The sound of metal clashing against metal, grunting, curses and screams filled the misty morning as the two sides fought desperately for control of the vital part of the castle. There was no more pretense, maneuver or tactics. This was a straight-out fight to the end.
Though the Duke of Lysander's troops had the initial advantage the Baron's men firmed up and didn't break. Rallying to the Hospitaler their resolve stiffened and the line held. Desperate to not see their castle overrun, they fought back ferociously particularly guarding the area leading to the stairs down to the gate.
But the numeric advantage and greater skill of the attackers began to wear down the defenders. James could do the math as he traded blows with a stocky mace-wielding assailant. His whole force was committed. Malcolm and the other men were tied down at the south wall so he had nothing to call up. The Duke though had a large force milling down near the main gate ready to surge in. The only thing that kept the defenders in the fight was that the area they fought in now was filled with thrashing men. With little room to move it meant the fighting was limited and most resorted to vicious wrestling matches.
The Duke's men seemed to grow frustrated by the stalemate so instead of continuing the fight for the stairs they began to press out to engage their superior numbers. If they could control the whole of the platform, pushing the defenders to the curtain walls, they'd win by default.
James shifted to respond keeping them in check but again numbers worked against him. Then the Hospitaler saw a situation unfolding in the corner of the gatehouse that caused him to forget everything else he was doing and fight desperately toward it. He could not allow this to happen, he would not.
Bronwyn awoke not only to the sounds of battle but frighteningly closer then she'd expected. Flying to her window the sight brought her hand to her mouth in a gasp of shock and fear. Looking across the courtyard to the gatehouse opposite the keep she saw it swarming with men, desperately fighting for control. Though she had no military mind she was smart enough to know that if this part fell the whole castle would go with it.
Others in the castle realized this too and she saw old men and young boys grab whatever they could use as a weapon and run to join the fight. They would not give up their home without standing. Pride filled her heart for those who only days earlier she would have given little thought to. She'd learned much. Despite the horror of combat she stood transfixed watching with an almost detached curiosity what unfolded before her eyes.
Then she saw her father.
Lord Walter, with gleaming mail armor and sword in hand stood behind several of his men, yelling encouragement to them. He had never been a warrior so her first thought was how foolish he looked out there fighting but then a pride that he would do something so out of character filled her. Then to her horror she saw the two men who guarded him go down under a vicious assault and suddenly her father was alone and surrounded by a pressing enemy.
James had successfully organized the men into several pockets. The strongest was around the stairs leading to the courtyard effectively sealing the gatehouse. He knew more men milled below, waiting for the gate to be opened. If that happened they were doomed. But he was confident they could hold this strong position and wear down their opponent. Then he saw the Baron. The man had gotten separated from the main body with several of his men and now stood isolated. He could see what was about to happen.
Grabbing a couple of his own men James commanded, "Come with me," and then waded into the mass of attackers blocking his way. "Alric, hold this spot at all costs," he yelled back. Then he saw the Baron's guards go down under the onslaught.
"Father!" Bronwyn screamed in horror, though no one could hear her. She wanted to do something, do anything, but she couldn't, she was transfixed by the scene and her own fright so all she could do was watch.
The Baron of Heddon put up a spirited fight, better then had been expected, driving two men away but age, lack of skill and time worked against him. Others pressed in and his defenses were battered away. A glancing blow to the head sent him spinning, dazed, to the stone floor of the gatehouse rendering him totally vulnerable.
Bronwyn screamed again fearing what she was about to witness then she saw Sir James. The Hospitaler fought like a man possessed, a whirlwind of destructive activity cutting a path over to her father. He slashed hard with his great sword taking one down then punching forward with the hilt to knock another aside. He blocked a high blow then countered with a slash across the mid-section, kicking another away.
Those who faced the Baron saw the metal cyclone coming and moved to face him. James took a slash to the shoulder but kept on charging. Nothing would stop him from saving the lord of the castle. In his wake three of his men fought to watch his back. They made it to Lord Walter and formed a defensive circle around him, allowing the Baron to regain his faculties and get shakily to his feet.
James didn't feel the blow that cut deeply into his shoulder. Adrenaline kept him going towards his objective of freeing the Baron. The man had fought well, better then he'd expected, but his luck had run out. The Hospitaler and his men made it to the fallen lord setting up a defensive circle around him.
But their situation was desperate.
Too many of their force was down or broken up by the sudden attack. They didn't have enough men to push back and could hold for only so long. The day was lost. Yet he was at peace. If he were to die here he knew it was for something worthwhile.
For too long James Stewart had been focusing on the negatives of his life, the things that had gone wrong. Yet he should have died in Jerusalem years ago. The time he'd been given after that siege had been a gift and he'd been blessed by it. Yes, the last few years had been hard, but he knew where he was going. All these thoughts went through his head as he fought off one attacker after another. Despite the chaos around him he felt at peace and even managed a smile.
Searing pain banished the peaceful smile as the Hospitaler felt the bite of a stiletto knife deep into his already wounded shoulder.
"Ruin my sport will ye priest?" a pock-mark faced man whispered into his ear from behind. "I told ye I'd be back and get even. Well, its payback time."
Griffon, the Duke's personal bodyguard, had come up the ladders with the second wave of attackers and had been watching from the periphery. But then he's seen the Hospitaler fight his way over to the Baron and knew his opportunity for revenge had come. Working his way through the flow of battle he stealthily moved into position to strike. Unable to reach the man who had interfered with his animal desires with Bronwyn he pushed two of his own men into the way of the Hospitaler's sword to gain his advantage and move behind his quarry. Rather then use his great sword he'd first stabbed the man in the shoulder to debilitate him in order to enjoy the kill. James was occupied with two men to his front allowing the bodyguard a free shot from the rear.
Griffon paused for a moment to add, "Oh, and not to worry. When I'm finished with you I'll be looking up that pretty daughter of the Baron. We have some unfinished business."
James situation was desperate. If he moved to protect his rear, he'd be skewered by the men in front. But if he did nothing, the man at his rear would kill him in this cowardly fashion. He wasn't afraid to die, in some ways he welcomed it. But then Griffon made the comment about Bronwyn and something stirred within. He went from white acceptance to red rage. In the millisecond it went through his mind he didn't understand why it mattered so much.
But it did.
In a lightning swift action he pivoted to the left while holding the two attackers off with his sword bringing his elbow back to crash into the advancing Griffon's temple. The big man saw stars, crumpling to the stone floor. James kicked him in the midriff while holding his own against the other of the Duke's men. Griffon, weapons lost, crawled away, grabbing one of his men to provide cover. He made it to a ladder, inched down painfully, and left the field of battle.
Bronwyn missed the whole sub-drama since it had happened in mere seconds. All she saw was the Hospitaler and his men protecting her father and so began to weep uncontrollably. She could see the desperate circumstance they were in, the mathematical certainly of what was about to happen, that her father would ultimately fall despite their efforts in the end. But that was not why she wept. She wept that these men who had a choice and could have protected themselves instead protected him.
The door burst open interrupting her revelations. Sir Simon charged into the room. "Come Bronwyn, the castle is breeched. There's not a moment to spare. We still have time to flee through the salley port and escape before it's too late."
He grabbed her arm to pull her away from the window but found she would not move. Instead she wheeled around, fire in her shocked eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she spat out.
The handsome noble was taken aback. What….what do you mean? I'm here to save you."
"Save me?" she responded incredulously. "And save yourself! Why aren't you on the wall with the others?"
Sir Simon was taken aback by the accusatory tone. "There's no point. I am only one man. What possible benefit could there be to me being out there right now with the others. If I were I would be in no position to help you."
Bronwyn's face showed genuine anger at the response. She opened her mouth to speak but checked herself. She looked from the nobleman, to the window and back to him. "I am not leaving this castle," she declared defiantly. "I don't know what you're about but the Lady of Heddon does not abandon those fighting for her home."
Bronwyn then ran past the man crying in frustrated anguish to go where he had no idea.
James knew the wound on his shield side was severe. Not only did it throb like the pounding of hammer on anvil but he had no strength in it anymore. His sword arm ached from the force of the blows he'd been giving and also absorbing. So far he held his own but there were too many. He would fail the Princess, but he would see his family again.
But then a new sound rose above the sound of battle. It was the sound of cheering. Then his attackers began to tumble aside in a wave of old men with mallets and hammers along with young boys bearing farm implements and other sharp objects led by Vyncent, Lord Walter's steward.
The sheer number and their enthusiasm broke the will of the attackers. Unsure of what to do against the new threat the Duke's men paused and that proved to be their fatal mistake for the new array would have melted at the first sign of resistance.
But not this day.
These supposed non-combatants had witnessed their Lord fight, they'd seen the determination of the Hospitaler and so no one who would call himself a man stayed out of the fight. Honor would not allow it.
The Duke's men sensed this and it sucked the life from them. Frantically they tried to re-establish themselves but to no avail but in truth their hearts were no longer in the fight. Their advantage had been checked and the reality of what they fought for, pay and the fear of their master was trumped by the desire to save themselves. The attackers fought their way back to the ladders and grapple hooks on the side of the wall, scrambled over to the ground below and with the bulk of their force that had waited for the gate to open fled into the morning, dragging whatever wounded they could.
The men of Heddon stood on the walls and cheered themselves hoarse. Certainty of defeat had been changed into steadfast resolution. They'd faced the fearsome enemy and had prevailed. More importantly, they'd faced the more dangerous foe of their own fear and broken it too.
All of this was lost on James. The pain of his wound and fatigue of the fight caused him to slump to one knee on the floor. Hanging his head in exhaustion he gulped air into his burning lungs despite the chill of the morning. He was ready to go, ready to be done. Though his mind couldn't register it he knew instinctively they'd somehow won and the Princess was safe. He smiled again at the thought and began to let himself go. It was time to go to his family.
Then he felt himself being pulled to his feet, and the thought went away.
Shaking his head to get rid of the fog James saw Lord Walter himself helping him up. The Baron had a strange though concerned look on his face.
"You saved my life," he acknowledged quietly.
"You fought well my Lord," James replied weakly, "the day is yours."
"No, the day is yours Sir James."
The Hospitaler then became aware of the cheering mob of soldiers and civilians milling around him and the Baron, unbridled joy and pride evident on all their battle-dirty faces.
"If not for you we would have fallen and I…I would have been…," Lord Walter hesitated as the reality of his words sunk in. "Thank you," he declared, grabbing the startled Hospitaler in a bear hug.
James winced at the embrace but then felt a gentle touch on his arm. He looked to see Bronwyn standing beside him, her own ornate silk handkerchief pressed against his bloody wound, totally unconcerned with what happened to the delicate and valuable accessory. Tears stained her cheek and her eyes glistened. "You saved my father," she whispered.
"I did what anyone would have done," he responded, head beginning to swim.
"I watched from the keep. You did what no other could have." Then, without thinking of her clothing, protocol, or their past, she grabbed and hugged him tenderly. "Thank you."
James, overcome by the moment, collapsed unconscious into her arms.
