The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [94]
The morning of the third day dawned cloudy with ordinary weather, a mackerel sky slipping in from the southwest with no help from Nevyn’s dweomer. The army split itself into four unequal parts. The two larger assembled at the north and south gates, where the rams would set to work; the two smaller, at the east and west to prevent Burcan’s men from sallying. While the rams attacked the gates, half the Red Wyvern men, unmounted of course, would raise ladders and try to scale the walls. It was not a job that Branoic would have relished. He found himself thanking the gods of war that had made him a member of the prince’s guard instead. After the gates went down, picked men would charge to gain the ground inside. With his usual guards the prince would follow the wedge, while his allies led their men in after—provided, of course, the gates did go down.
By mid-morning, everyone had taken their positions, with the prince and his guard at the south gate. While the trained assault men readied the “turtle shells,” hides stretched over wooden frames to protect the ram bearers from rocks and garbage thrown down from the walls, Caradoc picked men for the wedge that would charge the broken gates on foot. Up on the high walls, the regent’s men were walking back and forth in full mail. Branoic could see them between the merlons as they paused, looking down at the enemy preparations, waiting for the assault.
The protected ram waited ready to charge when, at last, a messenger came from the contingent at the north gate.
“We’re ready, Your Highness.”
“So are we,” Maryn said. “Captain, blow the signal.”
When Caradoc’s horn rang out, the Red Wyvern army shouted aloud. The men with the ladders raced for the walls, and the ram crew took off running for the gate. The heavy iron head slammed hard into the wood and bounced back. Up on the walls the regent’s men screamed out warcries and threw down stones in a hard rain. A few had bows, but their short hunting arrows glanced harmlessly off mail. Since Branoic had been expecting javelins, he was surprised until he remembered that the dun had four more walls to defend and a limited number of weapons for the job.
When the ladders went up against the wall, the defenders wielded long poles and shoved them off again. At the gates the ram retreated, then charged once more. The men with the ladders spread out and rushed the walls a second time. Behind them the lords rode back and forth, shouting orders and encouragement. This time some of the ladders held long enough for men to start climbing, but defenders heaved them off again, men and all. The shouting grew louder still as a third assault formed and hit, then another, until the attack turned into a series of waves beating against stone. Here and there a few of the prince’s men gained the top like a few drops of deadly water splashing from the wave, only to be mobbed and killed.
Yet as the fighting continued, every man there could see that the defenders were spread too thin. They were running back and forth on the wall; no one could pick a position and hold it, everyone had to scurry this way and that. The ladders kept coming; the rams kept pounding. Messengers rode in to tell the prince that the assault on the north gate was going well. He sent others back to say the same about the south.
In the long stretches of wall between the gates, the scaling ladders were winning handily. From his position on horseback, Branoic could see a sudden burst of attackers gain the wall off to the west. Fighting spread along the top of the wall itself. At the