The Lord and Lady in the White Tower

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I own none of this. No, really. Rating: K Time: This is a sequel to the Lady in the White Tower and begins some months after that story ended.

Two weeks passed before the next group of Nikodimas' soldiers appeared.

"How many are there?" Castle asked Prince Polito.

"No more than five thousand." He replied.

"That's far fewer soldiers than we have in the city. And you saw no sign of any siege weapons?"

"None. I imagine they're just here to threaten us again. They'll bluster, we'll laugh and tell them to leave, and they'll leave. I don't know what else they could do."

"Do you plan to fight them outside the city?' Asked Princess Arran.

Castle looked around at his officers and the others gathered in the palace and shook his head.

"The lives of my men are valuable to me. I have no desire to throw any lives away when we can stay here in the city." He turned back to Prince Polito. "How long until they're here?"

"Two days. Perhaps three."

"I want the people outside the city inside by sundown tomorrow. They're to bring all the food, animal fodder and animals they have as well as anything of value or anything that might help our enemies."

Polito nodded to one of his men who went off to spread the word.

"Prince Karl, how goes the dams for the moat?"

"The dams were the easy part. Fortifying the dams is much harder. We don't have the time for it now."

"Do you suggest we destroy the bridges over the moat?" Princess Arran asked.

"No. If they won't cross any water to get to us, they'll have to charge across the bridges, although what they'll do when they get to the raised drawbridges, I have no idea. They won't be able to ride more than ten abreast on the largest of the bridges, and our archers will be able to make them look like pin cushions."

The first group of civilians arrived in the city in the late afternoon. As before, they were mainly the old and the very young. The adults stayed behind to gather up their food and possessions. But, by midday of the next day, all were inside the city. The last one in was Frino, the local drunk. He came in slung across the saddle bow of one of Castle's horse archers.

"He's the last of them, Lord Castle." The archer called up to Castle.

That night, they could see the fires of the enemy's camp in the distance. Castle sent out a few patrols to make sure that what they saw weren't just fires with no soldiers about, but the scouts reported the enemy was camped for the night.

It was two hours after dawn when the enemy rode up to the city of Aurum. They were arrayed in a mass some fifty horsemen across and ten deep. Castle looked them over and decided they were much the same as the first group. They were well mounted, wore mail coats and had steel helmets. Their only weapons were swords, war axes, maces, and lances. There was no sign of bows and arrows or even javelins. They would fight close up, man to man. If their enemy would let them, which Castle would not.

One man rode out and rode to the end of the drawbridge. There he stopped.

"Greetings. I come from your new lord, the Great Lord Nikodimas, Ruler of All. You will surrender your city, your weapons, your valuables and become slaves. Any questions?"

"Only one." Castle replied "How do you propose to get to us? We're in the city behind stout walls and you're outside."

"Only cowards fight from behind walls." The man shouted back. "Bring all of your troops out and we'll fight. We won't attack you until you're ready. You have my word on that."

"Sorry. We'll stay where we are. You can go back to this Nikodimas and tell him you failed."

"Even though you cower behind walls like the craven cowards you are, we shall attack you. I have the finest fighters in the world at my back."

Old Selgu had grown grey in the service of Lord Castle. He had come as a teenager from some island nation to the northwest of the Empire and joined the Norren Heavy Cavalry Regiment as a horses' groom before learning the archer's trade. He had shot down many, many men with his bow and was growing tired of this braggart who stood before their city.

"I see no great warriors." Selgu yelled. "I see only dead men who don't realize they're dead."

The soldiers on the wall cheered and laughed at Selgu's words.

"Come down here and say that." The man yelled.

"No, you come up here." Selgu yelled back to more cheers and laughs.

"I cannot do that."

"But yet I can fight you from up here." Selgu yelled. He had already notched an arrow and in one fluid movement he drew the bowstring back and loosed his arrow. It caught the horseman under his right eye. He fell from his saddle, dead.

The enemy soldiers began screaming at Castle's men, calling them cowards and more. Then they began riding towards the bridges that crossed the moat. As castle had predicted the result was a slaughter. Some men rode their horses into the moat and reached the bottom of the raised drawbridge. Using daggers and axes, they began to pull themselves up the bottom of the drawbridge. Most were shot down by archers, but one man made it to the top and slid down the raised drawbridge. He landed in a small area between the drawbridge and the lowered portcullis. He hammered on the iron bars of the portcullis and challenged anyone to fight him in single combat. A group of four phalangists approached him with their long pikes. One managed to pin him by the leg against the upright drawbridge while the others stabbed him until he was dead.

"Fool." Grumped one of them.

"Better than someone smart." Said another.

Philo the baker tried to pull his iron cap down further, but it would not cover anymore of his head. His wife had sewn him a vest of many layers of cotton that covered his torso and would hopefully protect him. When he pulled it up, he exposed his stomach. When he pulled it down, he exposed his neck.

Relf, the butcher, had given him a razor-sharp meat cleaver and Samal, the woodworker, had made a fine long handle for the weapon. At his feet was a wicker basket full of javelins to throw at the enemy.

Philo had only enlisted in the city militia because it was expected of him. He was a member in good standing of the bakers' guild. If he refused to help protect his city, he would still be a member of the bakers' guild, but hardly in good standing.

And so, he found himself on the wall overlooking one of the bridges across the moat. He devoutly wished he was someplace else. Anyplace else.

"Here they come. The damned fools." Yelled one of the archers from the garrison.

Philo looked cautiously over the top of the wall and saw thousands of horsemen attacking the city. Over a hundred were attacking the gate immediately below Philo. The drawbridge was up, and they had no chance of getting into the city, but accidents could happen. Worse, they could happen to Philo the baker.

"They're on the bridge." Yelled the archer. "Throw your javelins."

Knowing that others could see him, Philo grabbed a javelin and threw it as hard as he could, then ducked down behind the wall. He didn't see that he had hit an enemy rider square in the face. Luckily for the rider, Philo had accidentally thrown the javelin butt first and only bruised his opponent.

Philo continued to throw his javelins as fast as he could and stay down behind the wall as long as he could. He smiled when he saw he only had three javelins left. The smile left his face when he saw young Mina, the sister of some apprentice weaver, heading to him with a fresh basket of javelins.

"Good for you!" Mina yelled, putting down the full basket and grabbing the empty one. "You're the first one to empty a basket."

Cursing his luck under his breath, Philo resumed throwing his javelins, not bothering to aim, or to wait to see where they went.

"They're running away!" Cried the archer. "Hold. Don't throw."

Philo looked over the wall. Sure enough, the enemy soldiers were already out of range and retreating rapidly.

With the rest of the militia, Philo stood on the wall and screamed defiance at the retreating foe, all while waving a javelin in his hand.

Once it was clear that the enemy wasn't coming back, Philo and the rest of the militia were sent back to their homes. Once there, Philo got out a bottle of the very best wine he had and poured himself a large cupful.

"Was the battle terrible, Philo?" His worried wife asked as his children and younger apprentices gathered around.

"All battles are terrible." Philo said, downing half the wine in his cup.

"Did you kill anyone, Papa?" His eldest son asked.

Philo thought for a moment.

"It's hard to tell in the heat of battle, but I'm sure I killed three of them and wounded a dozen more."

"You're a brave man, father," His oldest daughter said, with tears in her eyes.

In fact, Philo had bruised one man's face, cut away part of a horse's mane and badly cut the hand of one enemy.

Philo made sure not to make too much of his bravery for fear of being made a captain of the Bakers' Militia Company.

What was left of Nikodimas' small army retreated. Castle sent out patrols to make sure they didn't attempt to come back, but they didn't.

"Send troops out to recover our used javelins and arrows." Castle ordered." See to any damage to the bridges. If any of the enemy are alive, bring them in. We'll treat them and send them back. We're not savages. But relieve them of their armor and weapons. Any horses that can be saved should be brought in as well." Several hundred were still alive, although most were too badly injured to live long. Those who were only lightly injured managed to kill themselves, except for two men who accepted horses, armor and weapons from Castle and headed north, away from Lord Nikodimas.

Nine days after the battle, a man rushed into the council chambers at the palace, interrupting a meeting.

"Lord Castle, Princess Arran, Prince Karl, Duchess Ann, Duke Ranald…"

"Yes, we know who we are." Arran said smiling, "do you have news?"

"A fleet approaches from the north. They fly Imperial banners."

"How soon will they be here?"

"If the wind holds, they'll be in the harbor in no more than four hours."

The wind, in fact, freshened a bit and the ships began anchoring in three hours. Castle, the nobility, his officers along with Admiral Deese and his officers, were on the dock ready to greet the newcomers.

The first ashore was a bearded, sun bronzed man who bowed to one and all.

"Greetings. I'm Captain Holder, commander of this fleet. I bring news for you, Duke Richard, and for you, Baron Deese."

"I'm a duke?' Castle said.

"Indeed, you are, Your Grace. And my friend is now a baron. Others have also been promoted, but I know only their names, not their faces."

"Come to the palace and have a drink to celebrate, Marse." Deese said. Then he looked at Castle, "If that pleases Your Grace."

"It very much pleases me." Castle replied.

As they walked back to the palace, the officers of both the army and the fleet tried very hard not to ask who had been promoted or entered the nobility. To ask openly would be unseemly.

TBC