Roland's Castle

  Chapter 6

  The plans stolen by Bobblejob and Jubblebub were very detailed. The points where the attackers intended to cross the moat in rafts were all plainly marked. So too were the places where the attackers intended to erect the trebuchets – those fearful siege machines that could throw rocks and just about anything else at, and over, the castle walls. These were to be placed out of reach of the archers’ arrows but their own range was much greater. There was nothing the defenders could do about them except prepare for incoming missiles. Using such machines was just like his uncle though, Roland thought. The castle had only just been rebuilt after he had demolished most of it, now he was trying to ruin it all over again.

  It still nagged at Roland, and probably at Firebrace and the others too, that the map might be a deception. That would be just like Dagarth, too. But then Bobblejob and Jubblebub were just too stupid too be involved in such a deception, weren’t they? wouldn’t they somehow manage to give it away, if they were? But then aren’t they just the kind of people you would want to involve in the perfect deception - so stupid that no one would believe they could be involved in such a deception? Roland checked himself. It was a spiral of thought that could trap you and paralyse you. But then Perhaps that was the devious plan all along?

  Stop! I t didn’t bare thinking of, and thinking of it was pointless. All Contingencies that could be covered were covered. It was done now and could not be undone.

  The attackers would have the morning sun in their eyes and it would not be until ealry in the afternoon that it moved around to their advantage. There was plenty of time for them to set up their devices. When it rose the sun was bright and strong, in a cloudless sky, on a lovely day that beckoned to all to simply wander across the landscape, pick flowers, listen to birdsong - enjoy! - enjoy!

  But there was to be none of that.

  There was no emissary from the enemy this morning - an ominous sign in itself. Shortly after bacon and eggs time there was movement from the hill. A group of carts moved down loaded with wood and other bits and pieces. They made their way to the sites indicated on the stolen map as the places where the trebuchets would be set up.

  The defenders could only watch as wood and rope was unloaded from the carts and the process of assembling the engines began. It was a long process, even though the soldiers involved were clearly experts. Frames were erected and the wooden throwing arms placed within them and tied down, then Upon the ends were hung the weights that would pull down on them, thrusting the missiles high into the air and into the castle. Every hour the machines grew more complete, more threatening. It was like watching a gang of giants grow, hour by hour, right before you eyes but out of your reach, knowing that when they had grown enough they were going to come and attack you; and there was nothing you could do about it.

  “I wish they would just get it over with,” Roland said.

  Firebrace indicated the bright sun.

  “I know, I know,” Roland said, “but I would much rather they attacked with that in our favour.”

  “And they would rather they didn’t,” Firebrace chucked, “and the initiative is with them, I am afraid to say!”

  Some time around noon a few testing shots were fired from the machines. The missiles landed closer and closer until one splashed into the moat. They had found their range and after that activity ceased again.

  The main army remained on the hill, glowering over at the castle. Roland tried to glower back but didn’t feel terribly fierce. He wished he had Fred’s glowing eyes to make a better job of it.

  Soon after lunch he watched as more carts came down the hill and stopped at points just out of range of archers. Again, it was at the very points marked by Bobblejob and Jubblebub’s plan for the placing of the rafts before they were taken to the moat. The rafts were unloaded and their deployment was practised together with a lot of shouting, yelling and general confusion.

  Shortly after the rafts arrived the main army started to form up and slowly make its way down the hill to the positions marked on the map. Roland looked on, again wishing that they were going to get on with it but knowing that they were most likely just forming up for another long spell of waiting. They halted and, as he anticipated, the waiting began again.

  “I would say about three o clock would be right,” Firebrace said, not perfect but the sun will put of their eyes and it will leave them some time to get something done before dusk.”

  Three ‘o’ clock came and went without incident, but about a quarter past there was stirring in the enemy camp, troops were getting into line, men were beginning to grapple with the rafts. From the top of the hill some more riders rode down. Soon they were recognisable as Dagarth, Bril-a-Brag, Gloatenglorp and their aides. They came to a stop at a place close enough to the battle to observe it and give orders – but out of range of the castle’s arrows. They were all sitting proudly in their saddles, watching on (except for Dagarth of course, who standing in his stirrups, proudly, watching on!). They seemed certain of their victory, by the looks of them, and it gave Roland a sense of doubt. Firebrace sensed it. “The smug confidence of an attacking enemy – particularly those who aren’t in the immediate line of fire – ignore it!”

  Roland felt a bit better, but not much. They had overwhelmingly more men than were in the castle. It seemed only right that they should win, as if it was a democratic contest.

  Votes don’t count in war, he reminded himself. Only victory.

  “I think they are making a start,” Firebrace said as Dagarth’s voice could be heard shouting an order and the men with the rafts started running towards the moat with their craft.

  At about half past three the first barrage was triggered. The men at the trebuchets started to load them, slowly crank back the arms and then pull the triggers that unleashed their assault. “Incoming!” the castle look-outs yelled as the first deadly missiles rained down. The first hit the ramparts towards the east, the next in the middle. The third narrowly missed the “unfinished” tower.

  Under the cover of the artillery the men-at-arms rushed forwards with the rafts and ladders and began to set them down in the water. Doubtless they had expected arrows to rain down upon them as they did so, but none came. Above them the archers waited foe the right time, for the right signal

  Roland looked to the left and right at the sentinels who were ready to take his signals. Those signals would be relayed across the ramparts, then by flags down to the ground where other soldiers, carefully hidden, would pass them on. Waiting to receive them, north and south of the castle, were two teams, one at each of the weir gates that controlled the entry and exit of the water from the moat.

  The men on the rafts were most of the way across the moat by now. It would be very hard for them to start back, but they hadn’t yet reached the point from where they could scale the walls.

  At that moment it was drawn to Roland’s attention that Dogwood and Dagwood were amongst those on the rafts. They wore their gleaming armour and seemed very proud and were being very bossy, giving orders and managing to sow confusion into an operation whose purpose should have been clear enough.

  Good, Roland thought. We might get to show them something. And he realised then just how angry he was with his cousins.

  The attackers were all in the right positions now. Roland gave the signal. It would take a few seconds for it to reach the men at the weir gates. Roland waited.

  At first nothing happened, but then it all seemed to happen at once. Roland had expected the flow to start slowly and speed up, but instead the moat turned into a fast flowing river almost instantly, like an upturned bottle with the cork removed.

  Where there had been small confusion on the rafts before, now there was chaos. They bumped and ground into one another as the momentum of the water caught them and they were swiftly swept off course. Oars and poles were thrust out in desperation as those on board struggled to row or punt against the current and at the same time fight off other vessels about to collid
e with them. In this way the attackers were driven into a battle with each other just to avoid a swim.

  The water was to be the least of their worries though. At this point that the archers began firing. They had been divided into groups along the western ramparts, each told to fire directly in front of them as targets floated by. The effect was awful as men bristling with arrows fell where they stood or dropped into the water. There was more panic on the craft and some men now plunged themselves into the water and swam for it to avoid the arrows.

  It was soon clear that the attack had failed and the attackers were in disarray. Roland looked over at his uncle and his new-found friends. Their faces registered the dismay that only the vanquished can know. The smugness of a few minutes earlier was gone and chagrin had replaced it. Dagarth dismounted and stomped over to one of the trebuchets. Roland could tell from his body language that he was ordering one final salvo against the castle, just out of spite. He watched the terrible thing being cranked back and loaded and then drew in his breath as he waited for the rope to be pulled. Sure enough the missiles were thrust into the air and performed an arcing curve in the sky before striking the base of the “Unfinished Tower”.

  “They’ve done it this time,” Firebrace said.

  Instantaneously there was a rumble and a bolt of lighting struck out across the moat. The throwing machine was destroyed and its operators killed in a blinding flash and a bang. But Dagarth was not amongst the victims - Roland noted that his uncle had beaten a swift retreat from the trebuchet before it had fired. He had known what would happen if it hit its intended target.

  Roland looked down to see what had happened to Dogwood and Dagwood. He hoped they hadn’t been killed. He wanted them to see that the attack had failed. He wanted to deal with them himself, too. At first he couldn’t see them and assumed they must have fallen in and that their armour had dragged them to the bottom of the moat. Once the noise and fury had died down a little, though, wails and cries could be heard coming from the base of the ramparts. Roland looked down to see that Dogwood and Dagwood were right at the base of the wall. One of the men at arms in their boat had managed to brace it against the wall with an oar. The two boys were crying in fear.

  “We must do something,” Roland said, “get them up!”

  “Oh let them drown,” Savitri said, “you are too soft hearted.”

  But Roland really did want them to feel his wrath. Letting them die at the bottom of the moat was too easy.

  “Lower ropes, we will haul them up,” Roland instructed.

  Ropes were indeed lowered and a great deal of effort put into hauling the boys up. Once on the ramparts they started wailing, “We’re sorry!”

  “We’re sorry!”

  We’re really sorry! Please don’t kill us!”

  They knelt down and pleaded for their lives, “Daddy said it would be so easy!” -

  “Daddy said we would just go over the walls and you would be too stupid and puny to do anything to stop us…..” -

  “We didn’t know you were so mighty!”

  “No – we didn’t!” -

  “Please forgive us, your lordship, we owe you our lives and our service, please spare us….!” -

  “Yes! Please spare us!”

  It really was pitiful and Roland felt disgust. He told them, “ You swear loyalty now - until the next time when you will betray us as before.”

  “Oh no, oh no lord! We were wrong!”

  “We did you wrong but now we owe you loyal service for sparing our lives!”

  “That isn’t decided yet,” Roland said, and gave them a very good glower. They quivered.

  “Get them out of my sight!” Savitri said.

  “If we sent you back would you forswear taking up arms against us?” Roland asked.

  “That wouldn’t be very clever Roland,” Oliver objected.

  “Yes, we would!” “Yes, we would!” they pleaded.

  “I don’t believe you,” Roland told them, “You are not gentlemen but scoundrels and in my heart I always knew it,” and Roland began getting into his stride on the subject, “You are your fathers spawn and thus unworthy of our mercy!” they shook again – “Yet I will let you live.”

  “Oh thank you!” - “Oh thank you!”

  “Take them away!” Roland commanded, and the villagers led them away at arrow point.

  Roland turned to his friends and winked, “That got them going, didn’t it!”

  “And some! You had them quaking in their metal boots!” Oliver said.

  “Way to go!” Savitri said, and put a hand on his arm in approval.

  Roland laughed. “It did the trick!”

  He looked out on the moat, proud of the victory, but then he saw how many men were dead. Men who had been living just an hour before were now corpses floating in the water or lying on rafts, all with arrows sticking out of them.

  “We did well, you did well,” Firebrace said.

  “Yes, we did.” Roland agreed, feeling heartened, “But I don’t think they will give up that easily.”

  “What else can they throw at us?” Oliver asked.

  Firebrace was silent and Savitri looked at the ground.

  “I am sure there is something else coming, something very nasty,” Roland said.

  When the others had gone he looked out again at the dead men. He was angry at his uncle for the simple waste.

  That night they celebrated. They found auntie’s other, other secret stash of food (they had already found the secret stash and the other secret stash). Like the first two, the other, other secret stash was vast - it was amazing it could all fit in the castle let alone the huge cellar it was put in. They all feasted, laughed and joked. The villagers and men-at-arms discussed the battle, retelling the story of the battle and joking about the greatest victory they had known.

  “Did you see them panic!” said Old Balderguzzle.

  “ Oh yes!” said Young Bodfrey.

  “They would have run for their lives if they didn’t had to swim! Laughed Young Nodkin.

  “ They didn’t swim very well did they?” laughed Old Nodkin.

  Well, the were wearing breast plates – it don’t help with the floating much!” Laughed Balderguzzle

  “Not at all!” Laughed Palfrey

  And Dagarth – and Dagarth, did you see his face?” said Old Balderguzzle

  “Oh yes!” said Pomfret

  “Chagrin without the grin!” said Old Balderguzzle.

  “It wiped the smile off and twice and thrice! Laughed Nodkin

  “He wont be smiling again for a while, maybe not never!” Frenella said

  “Not 'til Lammas come doomsday, I don’t reckon , not ‘til Lammas come Doomsday!” Said Marden.

  “Long live Roland – our leader and hero!” They all cried out.

  And they all toasted, “Long live Roland victor of the battle!”

  And the Fortressers began to sing to a stirring tune.

  Splendid star!

  Who’s evening rise

  Turns night to day

  And lights our way

  Beneath holy skies

  To a sacred place

  And an ancient race

  Sought by the holy and the wise

  As they sang Roland sat by the fire, staring into the flames. He was sombre and did not feel like celebrating. He wished they would all stop. Firebrace knew his thoughts.

  “You must allow them to celebrate,” he guided.

  “We don’t know what else Dagarth is cooking up,” Roland said.

  “No we don’t. All the more reason to keep up our spirits and look to what we have done, not to what we might do, might not do, or might see undone!”

  “I don’t want to be undone!” Roland said with a smile.

  Firebrace laughed. “Wonderful! Let’s make sure none of us are!”

  When they awoke the next morning the opposing army was gone. Only the smouldering wreck of the lightning-struck trebuchet and a few embers of camp fires m
arked where they had been. The other siege weapons had been dismantled and taken away so there was little sign of the great threat that had menaced the castle’s walls the day before.

  It was another fine morning and the joy of it filled the defenders and yet again made them enthusiastic about their victory. Before them the valley of the stream stretched out to the hill and they felt that it was undoubtedly, unquestionably theirs again. Roland, Oliver and Savitri decided to ride out on horses and look over the battlefield and see if they could spy where the enemy had got to. It was worth a risk for a look – they had to know what was afoot out there. Besides, it was time they practised riding – it would be a useful skill.

  Roland had some experience on horseback, Unsurprisingly, Savitri could ride well. Oliver had very little experience and was shaky. He doubted he could fire an arrow from horseback.

  Roland wanted to be sure he could use a lance when he needed to, so he picked up a branch to see if he could balance holding a weight on one side, pressing under his arm. It was difficult and he felt he had better practise riding a bit more first. Savitri was able to ride and wave a sword around in a quite terrifying manner. The only problem was making sure she didn’t decapitate the wrong people with it.

  “I told you to watch out for her!” Roland called to Oliver.

  “I don’t need telling twice. Come to think of it, I didn’t need telling once!”

  They rode to the Scary Oak and looked out beyond the hill to the country beyond. There was no sign of the enemy.

  Had they gone for good?

  The fact that they were gone, that Roland didn’t know where they had gone, or when they might come back was actually more unsettling than when they had been here. Now they were merely a shadow, an unknown, out there somewhere, always lurking, always menacing, always having the potential to strike.

  Roland resolved at that moment that the next time he had the chance he would get to know more of their plans, whatever it took. He had to know the mind of his enemy, all its plans, all its contingencies.