Jacq's Warlord (34 page)

“Okay,” Annie said, using her newest favorite word, “but can I wear my quiver and carry my bow and arrows, too?”

“Yes, dear. Just don’t shoot them inside the keep.”

“I won’t, I promise. I will only use them if I see the bad men.”

Jacq smiled as she watched the little girl climb down the steps and scurry through the door of the keep.

“Sir Geoffrey, look there!” A shout rang out from a soldier standing a few feet farther along the wall walk. Jacq looked out over the open field and watched as row upon row of armored soldiers on foot and horse assembled in the meadow, spreading out to create a phalanx of military might.

If it was a ploy to intimidate, it worked. They looked menacing and evil, especially the man riding in the center on the most elaborately decked-out horse.
Only Percival
would ride into battle in his Sunday best.
Jacq’s lip curled in distaste. The man was as vain as he was villainous.

What caught her attention next, and caused a ripple of unease up and down the line of warriors atop the castle wall, was a large, lumbering contraption being towed behind the formation.

“God’s blood! They have a trebuchet.” Geoffrey’s horrified whisper reached her ears.

Jacq had seen drawings of one in a history text and knew it was a siege machine used to catapult stones and flaming missiles over castle walls.

“Can we take it out with fire?” she asked worriedly.

“It would not be an easy task,” Geoffrey answered grimly. “We can try to harry them with arrows when they bring it near, but they have enough men to keep it manned no matter if some fall.”

The formation halted out of range of the archers’ arrows. One man broke from the group to ride forward with a white flag attached to the end of a pike.

Drawing his horse to a halt a short distance from the curtain wall, he raised himself in his stirrups and shouted, “Sir Percival of Sedgwick sends his greetings to the people of Rathburn. He promises to spare the lives of the inhabitants if you surrender the keep now. His fight is not with you, but rather with your lord.”

188

Jacq’s Warlord

Geoffrey leaned over the parapet and shouted, “We know how well Sir Percival keeps his promises. We will not open our gates to his treachery.”

Percy spurred his horse closer, halting out of range. When he pushed his visor open with a gloved hand, she noted his once handsome face had aged, and his skin held a sickly pallor. She was fiercely glad to know he had suffered at her hands.

Percy’s hawklike gaze searched the men lining the top of the wall until it fell on Jacq. “Ah, Lady Jacq. What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Has your master tired of you already?”

Jacq’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Percy?” She spat his name as if it were a curse.

“You, Jacq.” He held a hand to the place on his belly where she had stabbed him. “I owe you a favor I wish to return.”

Geoffrey stayed her response with a hand on her arm, answering for her. “Lord Percival, the end of the war is being negotiated as we speak. I do not think your sovereign will find it amusing that you attack another’s keep while he is crying peace.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, dear Jacq,” he addressed her, ignoring Geoffrey, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. “This war will not be over until you and Lord Rathburn are dead.”

He doesn’t care how many of these innocent people die!
Jacq shook with the ferocity of her hatred, but held her tongue.

Percy stood in his stirrups. “Look around you, Jacq, at the good people who serve Rathburn. Know you, that you will be the cause of all their deaths!” His horse shifted, uneasy beneath him and Percy sat in the saddle. “I will kill every inhabitant of Rathburn Keep until I have you!” he screamed. “I suggest you give yourself up now and let these people live in peace.”

“Do not listen to him, milady,” Geoffrey said quietly. “If you give yourself to him, he will still tear the keep down around our ears. Do not let him make a weapon of you against Lord Rufus.”

Knowing what Geoffrey said was the truth, she nodded her agreement. Inwardly, she seethed at the devil’s bargain.

“We will not give you Lady Jacq,” cried Sir Geoffrey. “She is one of us. If you want her, you will have to fight us for her.”

A cheer went up around the walls of the castle.

Percy’s face contorted with rage. “Then you shall all die!” Sawing at his horse’s reins, he turned to rejoin his warriors. Within seconds, his men moved on Rathburn Keep. The first rows of enemy archers, advanced under the cover of their shields.

“This is your plan, milady. You give the order.” Geoffrey’s face radiated his trust and respect.

Jacq squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Stand ready, everyone!” she yelled. “Light your arrows. Fire on my command.” Jacq smiled, with a determined 189

Delilah Devlin & Myla Jackson

gleam in her eye as she, Geoffrey, and two archers farther down the wall, plunged pitch-tipped arrows into the fires in the metal pots at their feet until they burst into flame. Setting the arrows against the strings of their bows, they pulled back and aimed at the fuses wrapped tightly around the stakes in the ground before the approaching archers’ feet. “Now!”

Four flaming arrows flew through the air toward the stakes setting them on fire.

Jeering laughter could be heard from the ranks of Percy’s soldiers, while Jacq waited tensely to see the outcome of her plan.

“Ha! You missed!” yelled Percy. “What do you have—women and old men to defend you? Scale the walls!”

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The jugs exploded launching dirt, stones, and bits of metal into the air. Soldiers were lifted off their feet and flung backward with the strength of the blast. Those who could rise staggered, clutching at gaping wounds and shouting their terror. Horses screamed and reared, and riders fought to gain control of their mounts.

Jacq’s stomach lurched at the carnage.

“Men, release your arrows!” Geoffrey yelled.

A shower of arrows rained down on the enemy soldiers, finding their targets, as shields lowered in the ensuing panic.

“Retreat! Retreat!” Percy shrieked, and those able to fell back once more beyond harm’s reach, leaving their dead and wounded in the clearing smoke.

“Witch!” Percy screamed, shaking his fist. “Your tricks will not save you.” His curses could be heard loudly as he railed at his men and urged them to form again.

“Be ready! Here they come again!” Geoffrey warned his men as another attack began.

Under the cover of a hail of arrows from Percy’s men, mounted warriors rode toward the curtain wall, throwing grappling hooks to lodge in the parapet. Quickly, the men on the walk struggled to dislodge the hooks or cut the ropes attached to them, but more found purchase.

Daring a peek over the side, Jacq saw soldiers scaling the walls. Alarm sped adrenaline through her veins as she raced for the basket that held her next weapon.

“Bomb them!” Jacq yelled, grabbing a gourd bomb, lighting the fuse and tossing it over the side.

Deafening explosions filled the air and shook the ground beneath their feet, but those who fell from the ropes were quickly replaced.

Jacq reached behind her, pulling an arrow from her quiver. She nocked it and then let it fly. Again and again, she picked off the soldiers directly below her. Blocking out the cries of those who fell around her, she emptied her quiver, and then ran to a barrel for more.

190

Jacq’s Warlord

When she glanced over the side again she spied a group of men scrambling up a ladder. She grabbed a gourd bomb and lit it then ran along the wall walk to stand just above the ladder. Tossing the bomb at the last minute, she ducked behind the parapet, narrowly escaping being hit by an enemy arrow.

Boom!

A quick glance verified the soldiers and the ladder were in pieces on the ground.

She suppressed her revulsion at what she’d caused…this wasn’t the time to be squeamish. Hunching her tall body lower, she rushed back to her position, stringing an arrow as she went, letting it fly at a soldier as he heaved himself over the wall.

Screaming, he fell backward just as another reached the top. Jacq drew her sword and rushed the second man before he was fully over the edge.

“
Hiiii-yaahhhh
!” Jacq charged forward, startling the soldier by the ferocity of her attack. She slashed at him once, then letting momentum carry her forward, tucked her shoulder into a football player block, catching his body in the midsection.

He teetered backward over the edge. At the last moment, he grabbed her sleeve, pulling her with him. Horrified as she felt herself drawn forward with him, she brought her arms up and under his to break his hold, shoving him over to edge to his death.

Jacq felt something slam into her a moment before she noticed a burning pain radiate down her arm. Stunned, she looked down to see an arrow lodged high in her left arm. Realizing she was still standing exposed to the enemy, she ducked behind the wall and sat with her back to the stone, cradling her arm as waves of pain shot through her.

“Lady Jacq, you’re hit!”

191

Delilah Devlin & Myla Jackson

Dazed, Jacq opened her eyes to see Geoffrey and Gwen, both ashen-faced, hunched down beside her. Geoffrey’s smile was more a grimace, but she drew comfort from his solid presence.

“I have to remove it, milady,” he said gently.

She nodded, afraid her voice would break and betray her tenuous hold on her control.

Pulling a knife from the scabbard at his side, Geoffrey sawed through the shaft of the arrow, then snapped off the feathered end.

All the while she bit her lips to keep from howling like a baby.

“Lean forward,” he commanded, his tone brusque.

As she rested her head against Gwen’s shoulder, she heard him say, “Brace yourself, milady.”

She screamed as he pushed the shortened shaft through the back of her arm.

Gwen held a wad of fabric to both sides of the wound until the bleeding slowed, and then deftly applied a fresh bandage winding strips of linen around her arm and then knotted it to hold it in place. “Let me help you to the keep,” Gwen said, when she’d finished.

“No, Gwen.” Jacq wiped tears from her face with her sleeve. Flexing her arm, Jacq gasped, but kept herself from crying out with pain—barely. “Go help the others. I’ll rest later.”

Gwen’s scowl held tender concern. “Milady, Lord Rufus will be very angry with you if you let yourself be killed.”

Jacq gave her a weak smile at the absurdity of the statement. Rufus would be furious anyway. Despite her pain, she doubted her injury was life-threatening. Placing a hand over her friend’s, she said, “I’ll be all right, Gwen. Now go!”

Gwen fussed with the dressing a moment longer, then reluctantly left her.

Jacq rested with her head against cold stone and wondered how Rufus could bear to live his warrior’s life. So much pain, so much destruction. Did he ever feel the same sorrow she felt for the lives she’d wasted this day? Or did one grow numb to it? She believed he wasn’t a callous sort of man, but held his emotions deep within where others couldn’t see or share his pain. How she wished she could talk to him…take comfort from him now.

She eased up to peer over the stone parapet at the soldiers below. They were falling back to regroup. Many lay dead on the ground.

192

Jacq’s Warlord

Good, she thought. They’d get a break, if only for a little while.

Jacq sat down again with her back to the wall and looked around to take stock of their present situation. Already, Sir Geoffrey shouted orders to the people on the ground in the bailey to restock their ammunition and help the wounded to the keep for treatment. Jacq spotted Annie with a pail of water running along the wall walk to offer the warriors a dipper to refresh themselves.

Water. That sounded good about now.

“Lady Jacq.”

Jacq glanced to her left.

Father Haskell crouched beside her, concern etched into his brow. “You need to come down to the hall with the others who are wounded.”

Shaking off a growing lethargy, she interjected a strength into her voice she didn’t feel. “No, I’m staying for now.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You are a stubborn woman, Jacq of Georgia. Drink this.” Holding out a dipper, he waited while she gratefully gulped it down. “I have also brought you bread to eat. You must keep up your strength. You’ve lost blood.”

“Thank you for your concern, Father.” Biting into the hard chunk of bread, Jacq forced herself to chew and swallow. Taking the dipper, she washed it down. The water was blessedly cool and refreshing.

Just then she heard an ominous sound.

Handing the dipper back to the priest, Jacq pushed to her feet and looked over the edge of the wall. Again, the soldiers were moving forward. This time the trebuchet accompanied them, wheels creaking and groaning beneath the weight of the large wooden war machine.

“Mother of God!”

She’d forgotten the priest standing next to her. “Father Haskell, get those who aren’t manning the walls into the keep now. Everyone must take cover.”

“Yes, milady.” She watched his rotund body moving quickly down the steps to the bailey below, all the while bellowing loudly for everyone to follow him to the keep.

“Geoffrey!”

“I see it, milady. Everyone, be ready!” he shouted.

Jacq nocked another arrow and let it fly when she had her target chosen. She missed, cursing loudly and fit another to the string. Bracing her injured arm, she found her mark with the next arrow.

Their hail of arrows did not deter Percy’s intent. As the first large stones were hurtled over the castle wall, Jacq watched in horror. The rocks fell through the wooden roof of the smith’s shop, but thankfully none of the people still in the open area of the bailey were struck. During the minutes it took to reload the tray of the trebuchet, those on the wall answered volleys of enemy arrows with their own, then threw themselves low against the stone parapet as another deadly shower opened over them.