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almost see it from here."
"Hawthorne! O'Donald!"
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The young private appeared in the doorway, the towering artilleryman barging
in behind him.
"Vincent, run quick now, back to the
Ogunquit, and tell Tobias to get his boilers up at once. O'Donald, leave two
men to get James to the palace, grab the rest of your boys, head for the boat,
and fire off a blank round. That should bring the rest of our people-tunning.
Now move it!"
Andrew looked back to Ivor.
"Get as many of your foot soldiers to my boat as you can, as quickly as
possible. We'll go up the river and hit them. The rest of your force can go
overland by horse. We'll land north of the village and move in, while you'll
move in from the south." Startled, he realized that he had not bothered with
Kal but had spoken in Russian.
Ivor suddenly smiled at him, his suspicions confirmed.
He cuffed Andrew on the right shoulder and stormed out of the room, roaring
and cursing for his men to follow.
Andrew stepped back into the now-empty tavern. Kathleen was still bent over
James, who was moaning weakly, and came to her feet as Andrew approached.
"Fortunate you have a little war to divert everyone's attention from this,"
she said.
He could not admit to her that it was indeed fortunate.
"Stay with James and help him any way you can."
"We need Dr. Weiss," she replied coldly.
"It can't be helped now there are more pressing needs."
"There are always more pressing needs than a man's life, isn't that right,
Colonel Keane? An innocent man gets knifed by these barbarians, but you rush
off to help them anyhow."
"I'm sorry, Kathleen," and he extended his hand to her.
She turned sharply away and knelt back down by the wounded soldier.
Without another word Andrew left the tavern. Racing to the dockside, he did
not even notice the two pennants that suddenly broke out from atop the highest
spire of the cathedral.
"Drop anchor!"
Within seconds the landing boats rattled down and the men started to swarm
over the side. The Napoleon field piece, swinging from the end of a winch, was
already poised. Working feverishly, the sailors swung the gun out and eased it
down to the lifeboat, where planks had already been laid across the gunnels.
Andrew grabbed hold of a sling and was lowered over the side, into a boat
already packed with ten men of Tobias's command, who, armed with muskets, had
been converted into marines.
Moments later they were on shore. Company A leaped from their boats and with
practiced skill spread out into an open skirmish line, while with much heaving
and cursing, O'Donald's men lifted the one-ton artillery piece off the boat
and pulled it up on the beach. The boats were pushed off and headed back to
the
Ogunquit to pick up Ivor's troops.
"The village is just on the other side of that ridge, a verst or so away.
That trail through the woods leads straight to it," Kal said, pointing to a
series of low-lying hills that marched down from the east.
It was obvious to all that something was happening on the other side of the
ridge, for the sky was blanketed by a dark roiling cloud of smoke from the
burning town.
Andrew took another look at the rough map Kal had sketched for him.
Ivor and his knights would be galloping out from the city, coming up the road
toward the village. He hoped the Novrodians would be looking in that
direction, never expecting a flank attack from the direction of the river.
With a little luck they'd hit them hard, driving them back before dark.
Chances were it was nothing but a raid anyhow, but it'd be a good opportunity
for the residents of another city to see his men in action, and to solidify
his position with the Suzdalians as well.
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"All right, let's move out!"
Spread in open skirmish line, the fifty men of A Company started into the
forest, while O'Donald's men and the converted marines grabbed hold of the
traces for the artillery piece and started to pull the Napoleon up the trail.
Behind them the first of Ivor's men were now landing, and moved up behind the
advance.
Running forward, Andrew reached the front of the skirmish line. The men were
grim, silent, back again to the old game they had learned in
Virginia of hunting other men. Instinctively they moved from tree to tree,
pausing for a moment, and then with a low rush sprinting ahead another ten
yards. They weren't facing men armed with rifles, but an arrow could kill just
as easily.
A hundred yards was gained, then another hundred. As Andrew kept pace with the
line, he saw the trail before him straighten out and the crest of the hill a
quarter mile away. So close were they now that the crackling roar of the
burning village could be plainly heard, with smoke billowing up on the other
side of the crest. He paused and leaned against the trunk of a gnarled oak.
A flutter of breeze snapped past him. It took a moment for what had happened
to register. Turning, he looked the arrow buried in the tree next to him was
still vibrating.
"Everybody down!" Andrew roared.
Several things seemed to occur at once, as if in slow motion. A soldier
standing in the middle of the trail started to spin around, an arrow quivering
in his chest, his eyes looking beseechingly at Andrew. Rifles rattled off to
either side, and above the noise the clear clarion call of a horn sounded.
The woods exploded into action. Dozens of warriors seemed to spring up from
the ground. Swords drawn, they rushed forward, screaming fierce battle cries.
Andrew felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand out. They were coming on
like Confederate infantry, shouting what sounded like the dreaded rebel yell.
Mark your target, mark your target, be kept chanting to himself as he drew
careful aim at an ax-wielding beserker. The man went down, shrieking hoarsely.
Another target loomed up on his right. He snapped off a round; the man kept
coming, but the second round sent him to the ground.
Turning, Andrew stepped back from the hard-pressed skirmish line and looked
about.
It was a trap they'd walked straight into a goddam trap. Memories of the woods
of Antietam washed over him. From the right he could see they'd already been
flanked. Forward it looked like hundreds of warriors were closing in.
Clear your thoughts, he told himself. You're not a fresh fish anymore, dammit.
A warrior broke clear through the skirmish line rushing straight at
Andrew, sword raised high.
He drew careful aim, dropping the man so close that he had to jump aside as
the corpse rolled past.
"Company A, pull back! Pull back to the artillery!"
Blue-clad forms came running out of the battle smoke, and the enemy host
roared with delight.
Turning, Andrew started to run down the trail. A soldier beside him stumbled
over, an arrow sticking out of his back.
Andrew whirled around, aimed, and dropped the archer. Holstering his gun, he
grabbed the boy, dragging him to his feet.
"You've got to run, boy!" Andrew screamed. "Run, dammit!"
Half-dragging, half-pushing the wounded soldier, Andrew turned the bend in the
trail. Fifty yards ahead the single field piece was already poised, the
gunners ramming a cartridge home. O'Donald and a dozen of his men were running
up the trail, pistols drawn.
The roaring charge from the right flank grew louder. Suddenly there was a wild
clashing of steel as Ivor's foot soldiers waded into the fight, plugging the
hole.
One of O'Donald's men grabbed the wounded soldier from Andrew.
Turning, Andrew looked about. The charging host were coming on relentlessly,
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his boys pulling back in for the trail.
"Back to the gun!" Andrew roared.
His men streamed past as O'Donald's men spread out across the trail.
With pistols leveled they delivered six sharp volleys, stemming the attack for
the moment and buying precious moments of time.
Andrew stayed with them, knowing that Captain Mina would rally the defense.
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