Redoubt

CHAPTER NINE

  Early the following morning Corporal Jonas led the guard shift over the half-built bridge to the far side of the river. Following closely behind were a bunch of Bantusai with Juma at their head. The scout noted that they were in good spirits; they laughed and talked in their fast-paced tongue. Juma had a wide smile on his face.

  “You lot seem a lot happier these days,” stated Corporal Jonas.

  Juma nodded. “It is good to be working like this again. Good because we remember what it was like to be at home. Singing to the wood is special to us.”

  “Singing is special to me. ‘Cept I don’t think you’d like the lyrics of my songs,” called one of the soldiers.

  “Perhaps we might trade song stories. We have many to do with mating you might like,” offered Juma.

  “Great. More songs about shagging,” muttered Corporal Jonas to the amusement of the guards.

  “For a devious bastard you are a right prude Jonas,” laughed the music loving soldier.

  “Piss off and get to work,” suggested Corporal Jonas. This caused more amusement.

  For all that the scout was colourful in his brevity and opinions on life, he was strangely respectful of womankind. Most figured it was because they were the one species he could never figure out and therefore could never predict, hunt or track. His nemesis. A lot of his fellows could at least appreciate that sentiment.

  Corporal Jonas stared around the clearing and sniffed the air. He walked towards the treeline and stared into the pre-dawn gloom.

  “You worry?” asked Juma, joining him by the clearing edge.

  “Not sure,” admitted Corporal Jonas. He continued to stare into the trees, his eyes moving left and right so that his peripheral vision might pick up something. He cocked his head, trying to pick out the one sound that may be alien to the forest.

  Juma also studied the darkness. “I too feel something is wrong.”

  “Wrong but hidden,” said Jonas. He pulled his bow from off his back and notched an arrow. He moved slowly to where the overgrown path opened into the clearing. He then pushed onto the path itself and took a few tentative steps along it and into the darker confines of the forest. He knelt and allowed his senses to open up to his surroundings. He did not strain himself to see what was there. Rather he remained passive, breathing slow and evenly. He tried to siphon out the noise of the work going on behind him by the riverbank. Corporal Jonas trusted his instincts. He seldom spooked for no reason. There was or had been a presence nearby. He was sure of it. And he was pretty damn sure that whatever it was, it was doing a bloody good job of not being tracked. He hoped it wasn’t some sort of supernatural beastie. He bloody hated them and they never wanted to die easy.

  Behind him he sensed Juma come up. Gods these Bantusai were good at woodcraft as well. Jonas reckoned that Juma had wanted him to know he was there and could quite happily fade away if he so wished. The fact that Juma thought the same as he was more than enough proof to act on. He still wanted something physical though. A trace was all he needed and then straight back to the Captain. He glanced back briefly and locked eyes with Juma. The other man had a thoughtful, intent expression. Corporal Jonas pointed towards the path and inclined his head. Juma nodded his understanding. The two slowly stood and began to make their way along the path. They had penetrated no more than yards when Juma stopped and took a deep smell of the air. Corporal Jonas did the same. There. An odour. Something that was out of place. Corporal Jonas crouched and glanced around him. He scanned the undergrowth, searching through the detritus that littered the floor of the forest path. It was beginning to get lighter and he could pick out individual objects but nothing that shouldn’t be there. Then he stopped. Just ahead he saw what he had been looking for.

  The soil had been disturbed. He spied broken twigs, earth and leaf compacted by weight. Something had been on this path but had ventured no further on it towards the water’s edge. Could it be a deer or boar? No, too much disturbance. Maybe a litter then? No, something bigger. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced up at Juma who was bent over him. Juma pointed at his own nose and then at a point on the ground. The soldier followed the finger and saw, at the edge of the path proper, a black shape. No, not a shape, a mark. A mark with a particular smell. He touched the shape and brought his finger to his nose. It was tobacco. That’s it then. He stood up and motioned to Juma to head back.

  “Morning,” said a voice from behind him. He spun round raising his bow.

  “I wouldn’t,” suggested the voice.

  Corporal Jonas could not make out the face but he could see a figure standing on the side of the path a few yards away from where he had crouched. The figure held a crossbow pointed right at him.

  “And before you think about having a go ‘cos there are two of you, there are another five of these aimed right at you.”

  “I got the dark fella, Hollis,” piped up a rasping voice from the undergrowth.

  “Yeah, cheers, Hoarty,” said the figure.

  “I think we have found our visitors,” said Juma sardonically.

  “No shit,” muttered Jonas as he lowered his bow.

  Forge was making his way back from having a very satisfying bowel movement when he noticed that the camp seemed to be in a state of mild excitement. There seemed to be a buzz in the air at any rate. He had already noted earlier that there had been an outbreak of morale. He smiled. Have to stamp that out. As he entered the outer gates he glanced over at the commissary tent. Ah, that’ll be why then. He counted four men and probably one woman who were dressed in a mixture of furs and animal skins. They also looked as if they hadn’t had a wash in a while. In fact one of them, who looked particularly ancient, seemed to be held together by dirt. They were hunkered down by the fire, greedily consuming some bread and broth that Sergeant Pike had provided. Corporal Jonas and two others were stood to one side keeping a watch. By his feet was a pile of weapons: four crossbows, a couple of short bows and hunting knives. Forge guessed they were probably trappers or some such. He also saw that Corporal Jonas had one hell of a sour expression. At least, a lot worse than usual.

  “We have guests, Corporal?” asked Forge.

  “The First Sergeant is in your tent, Sir,” replied Corporal Jonas.

  Forge’s eyebrow raised in surprise. Nice curt reply. Curious indeed. He walked over to his tent and entered. Crowded inside were Locke, Sergeant Mac, Portal and another one of the new arrivals. The man looked tired and travel-weary. He was sporting several days’ growth of beard, which added to the general grime of his appearance. Despite these factors, Forge guessed him to be around thirty, noting the ponytail of blonde hair and the piercing blue eyes.

  “Gentlemen,” said Forge gazing at each man in turn.

  “Sir, this man has some news he thinks might be of interest,” said Lieutenant Locke.

  “Although thoroughly doubtful, from what I have heard so far,” added Portal airily.

  “Yes, well. Corporal Jonas found these people on the far bank and brought them in,” said Sergeant Mac.

  “OK,” sighed Forge. He sank heavily into his chair and looked up at the man. He guessed this wasn’t going to be good. “My name is Captain Jon Forge. Officer Commanding the 1st Company of the 7th Mounted Infantry Regiment. Ashkent Expeditionary Force under General McKracken,” He spread his arms wide. “Let’s have it.”

  The man folded his arms and Forge had to admit that whatever else, those blue eyes were both intelligent and hard.

  “My name is Holis Lode. From what was the town of Noel’s Gap. About a week away from here to the north and east.”

  “Was the town?”

  “Aye. Right until a whole bunch of Harradan fell upon it. We are all that is left. And those bastards are right on our tails.”

  “You see, Captain?” said Portal. “These men are fugitives and are being hunted down. We should send them on their way. It is of no concern to us.”
>
  Lode’s eyes fell upon Portal and the man visibly flinched.

  “You don’t get it do you? We were just in the way. They’re coming here.”

  Forge knew it. Just as he was starting to have a good time. “Are you telling me that there is a force of men making their way here, right now? To this place?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “We reckon about two thousand or so. Minus the few we’ve already killed.”

  Sergeant Mac whistled. Locke looked shocked and Portal looked outraged. Forge just felt depressed. He hated being right all the time. This job had always stank of shit and double cross. And guess what? Here comes the sucker punch.

  “I think you had better start at the beginning,” he said to Lode. He could feel that sinking sensation creeping up on him again.

  Over the next few minutes, Holis retold the tale of the fall of Noel’s Gap, the subsequent flight of the survivors through the forest and the appearance of Shifter troops with the Harradan. Before he had stopped speaking, Forge had already put a few pieces of a puzzle together and didn’t like what he was hearing. He glanced over at Sergeant Mac who was clearly thinking along the same lines and then at Portal who was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Alright, Mister Lode. I am going to assume that what you have told me is not a pile of steaming bullshit. And if I do that, then I want to know what the fuck is going on, Portal?” he shifted his gaze sharply towards the wizard. Portal put his hands up in a placatory gesture.

  “I assure you, Captain. I do not know anything about this. Surely I would not be so foolish as to accompany you on this trip if I knew of the fate awaiting you.”

  “Come on, Portal. I’m not a completely stupid bastard. Your boss suddenly wants a bridge built in the middle of fucking nowhere, sends us off with some cock and bollocks story about trade routes and says it has to be built bloody yesterday. Oh, and here’s some really clever bloody jungle boys who can knock it up for you.”

  “I know how it looks but I have no part in this. The Duke never...”

  “The Duke is a fucking traitorous bastard! That is what the Duke is,” shouted Forge. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you where you stand. Or are you going to magic your way out of this?”

  Portal shook his head. “I have no excuses but to protest my innocence. Besides I do not have the skill to despatch all of you before I too was killed.”

  “Damn right,” said Sergeant Mac.

  “You might not have that sort of combat magic, but I bet you have a few tricks up your sleeve, don’t you? From here on in you are confined to your quarters,” Forge glanced out his tent flap. “Corporal Colls?” he called out.

  A passing soldier stuck his head in.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Take this individual to his tent and then mount a two man guard on it. Then mount another guard to watch them from a safe distance. No one goes in and he does not come out without my permission.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Without another word Portal stalked out of the tent. Forge turned his attention back to Holis Lode. “I think you should go get some food.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lode asked.

  “That is what I am going to figure out now. Lieutenant, find a spot for our guests and let Sergeant Pike know they will be staying with us.

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the young officer and strode out of the tent. Lode nodded at Forge and followed him out.

  Forge indicated to Sergeant Mac to take the other chair and the grizzled soldier took it thankfully.

  “We have been thrown into a bloody set-up,” said Forge. “Burns has ground us down. Weakened us. What’s left he sent here to do his dirty work. Build a bridge and then these Harradan cross, wipe us out and move down to join forces with him. Bloody clever. As the only people who could have reacted, he has tried to remove us from the frame.”

  “Except he didn’t expect us to find out that they were coming,” added Sergeant Mac.

  “Right,” agreed Forge. “We were supposed to have been surprised while we slept. Probably that bastard out there would have cast a sleep spell on us or something. Gods alive. He wanted to open up the northern flank, take McKracken by surprise. Roll up our forces and get behind the supply lines. What a damn shitstorm that would be.”

  “So we’re taking this Lode feller’s word for it then? We don’t know him, so it’s hard to trust him,” proffered Sergeant Mac.

  “S’pose we shouldn’t do really. But it all makes too much sense. We’ve always known Burns was a devious bastard. He has already shown he’ll turn to whoever will give him power or money. No doubt he has been maintaining good relations with Shifter during the whole conflict. Perhaps even earlier, we know he has financial links there.”

  “So the plan is...?”

  This gave Forge pause for thought. What if Lode was selling a load of bullshit? It made no sense for him to. Forge had never heard of Noel’s Gap, but he had heard of the Harradan. Disjointed clans mostly but all of them were vicious buggers. Burns must have promised a lot to get a force of that size on his side. Hells, he probably expected to run Graves himself as a province of Shifter and could therefore afford the costs. Whatever, none of this helped with his immediate problems. He believed Lode, though by rights he should check his story out. But if he were telling the truth, then they didn’t have much time. Time for what though?

  “Looks like we have two choices,” he said to Sergeant Mac.

  The other man scratched his bulbous nose. “The usual, huh? Stay and fight. Or run.”

  “I think the term is ‘tactical withdrawal’ but yes” said Forge. “I would like some proof though. Just to satisfy my own curiosity. Get some idea of the type of troops we are facing. That way we can work out how to play this. By the sounds of it they are walkers, no cavalry.”

  “Except maybe for some of the Shifter troops they have with them,” added Sergeant Mac.

  “We could make a run for it. Get back to Burn’s camp in a day and a half. Give him a surprise.”

  “There’s about a hundred and fifty levied troops stationed with him. I doubt they would know what their lord had in mind, let alone be inclined to fight for him if they knew. So we can neutralise that force with a bit of savvy. Then it’s still another day’s hard ride south to our boys in the 7th,” said Sergeant Mac.

  “By then the Harradan get across. Best forces we could muster would be what? Three hundred in the regiment, plus another couple of hundred local troops within a day’s march.”

  “For what they’re worth. Only good at making up the numbers,” added Sergeant Mac.

  “Well, we need numbers. We could expect elements of the 5th Regiment to arrive the following day. If we destroy the bridge immediately the Harradan would still have gotten across by then, though slower than they would have wanted. That would have lost them surprise and any prep time they might have wanted. In that scenario I reckon we could handle them. Hells, they might even give up and go home if they find that Burns has been taken out. But we don’t know whether by reacting to this invasion, by pulling back and then calling the 5th to join us, we are just opening gaps in the border for other incursions.” Forge chewed his lip. “Shifter is expecting the 7th to be hit and destroyed. Once that has happened they would be assuming our response will be one of two things. Either the 5th moves to the north in response to the 7th’s plight and Shifter moves into Graves. Or the 5th stays put in a defensive posture because it is waiting for McKracken to move up with reserve troops from the south. In that scenario Shifter will only attack once the Harradan engage us from the north, and then they’ll cross the border taking our forces in the rear or flank. Either way, we end up facing them piecemeal or keep pulling back allowing them to gain ground and consolidate. We just don’t know how quickly McKracken can mount an effective response.”

  “Well, why don’t we just pull all the way back south to t
he 5th’s location?” asked Sergeant Mac. “That way we have a combined force of two regiments facing the Harradan and any Shifter troops that have crossed the border to join them.”

  “You are right, but it means letting Shifter take a huge chunk of land of off Graves, a third of the country. We suddenly find ourselves right back where we started. I have no problems trading ground for time but it’ll be a hard slog fighting our way back north again.” Forge pointed at Sergeant Mac. “We are the one thing they weren’t expecting. And it’s that unexpected thing that always buggers up the best-laid plans. We are going to nip it in the bud. Contain it and rob it of its momentum.”

  Sergeant Mac nodded.

  “So we’re staying then, boss.”

  “Yup,” said Forge. “We stay, hold out for as long as we can and kill as many of the bastards as we can. And, if we are lucky and we get a message back to Regiment, then there won’t be enough of them left to mount a proper assault by the time relief gets here. Or if we fall before they arrive, wherever they meet the Harradan on their way south.”

  “Pardon me, boss, but I’m just doing some maths. There are sixty-seven of us at last count. So that’s odds of twenty-two to one roughly. And at best effort, we are looking at five and a half days before we get any help.”

  Forge nodded in agreement. “But on the plus side,” continued Sergeant Mac. “We do hold the bridge and we have got the makings of a defensive position. So they’d have to do all the work.”

  “How far behind did Lode say the Harradan were?” he asked.

  “Two days.”

  “Ok, so two days to prepare. We send a rider off soonest and then we have to hold them for three and a half days.” Forge looked at Sergeant Mac with a grim expression. “Here we go again, Mac.” Then he smiled. “But this time at least we get to choose the ground.”

  Sergeant Mac stood up and stretched. “Makes a change. Want me to get the boys in?”

  “Yeah, council of war I think. Invite Lode, too. And Juma.”

  That stopped the Sergeant in his tracks. “Really?”

  Forge glanced up. “Hells, yes. We just happen to have some of the finest labourers and woodworkers within a thousand miles or so. I want to know exactly what he can do for us.”

  “Got a point,” admitted Sergeant Mac as he left to gather the management.

  “Oh and, Sarge, get me Corporal Kyle. He’ll be heading south.” Sergeant Mac nodded and disappeared into the camp. Forge sat back and rubbed his hands through his closely cropped hair and scratched his beard. They didn’t have a chance. Sergeant Mac probably guessed the same but he would never utter it. Less than seventy men could not hope to hold off a force of two thousand, not for as long as they planned to. Give them a day and they would get across the river. Another day perhaps and then an assault. It was a simple numbers game at that point. But he had to try. They all had to try. This was his job and it was his responsibility to make the hard choices. And then live by them, for as long as that might be. They had to buy the time needed for Dav and the rest of the boys of the 7th. Better they lose a company than the whole regiment.

  A few minutes later and Corporal Kyle appeared at his tent flap. Forge briefed Kyle to ride as hard as he could to get to the rest of the 7th, find Dav Jenkins and then ride even harder to get back. Corporal Kyle pretty much knew the story anyway. The men had been pressing their new arrivals for information and worked out something was up, something that would probably involve them having to get bloody. Corporal Kyle then took his leave and went to ready his things. Before he left Forge counselled him to be wary and to steer clear of Burns and his troops. He had no doubt that even now they were preparing to join the Harradan when they came south. If the Duke had any sense he would not trust to the complete success of the7th’s demise. He would have watchers out, looking for any soldiers who might escape the trap and flee southwards. Corporal Kyle nodded “Don’t worry, Sir, they won’t sniff me until I ride back with three hundreds swords aimed at their yellow arses.”

  Forge smiled and wished him good luck. Once the scout had left the brains trust of the outfit joined him. Along with Sergeant Mac came Sergeants Pike and Grippa, Locke, Lode and Juma followed them. Corporal Jonas who, whilst not strictly in the hierarchy, gained entry due to his role as lead scout and troublemaker. Over the next twenty minutes Forge outlined the situation, inviting Lode to repeat the pertinent points of his tale and then summarising what he felt to be the courses of action open to them. He intended to deny the bridge to the enemy, then the river and then hold out in the fort for as long as possible. When that went, they would fall back to the tower.

  “That will be our redoubt gentlemen. We make them fight for every bit of ground and we don’t make them stop until we are all dead,” he told them. He looked at Holis. “Thank you for coming to us. Your actions might have saved the lives of many.”

  “But not the lives of my town,” said Lode.

  “True, but rest assured we’ll make them bleed for that. What about you and your friends? What will you do now? I’d advise you to make plans to move on pretty soon. I think you have done you’re fair share of killing already.

  “Always room for more,” said Lode simply.

  “I guess. For your part, I would ask if you would go with Corporal Jonas and show him what our approaching guests look like. I believe what you are saying. Hells this meeting is confirmation of that. But the Corporal is a military man. He might pick up things you missed. Call it a last favour before you go.”

  “Well, me and the boys talked about it already. We’ll stay and fight, but don’t expect us to hang around when they get across. We aren’t soldiers and revenge is no good if you are dead. But we can cast arrows from a safe distance whilst we have some. I’ll go back across the river with Corporal Jonas here.”

  “Good, glad to have you,” said Forge. “And you...” he turned his gaze to Juma. “You are still officially slaves but if you stay you’ll most likely die.”

  Juma shrugged but said nothing.

  “For the next couple of days I’ll be using you as my workforce to strengthen the defences of this place. Then, after that, you are free to go. Make your way back to your own lands or whatever. I doubt I’ll be in a position to worry about it.”

  Juma looked surprised. “You give what I did not think you would. We will work. We are still slaves.”

  Forge nodded, “Well, we’ll keep you in the compound just to make sure. No offence.”

  Juma inclined his head graciously. “I never have any.”

  “Captain?”

  “Yes, Mister Lode?”

  “Holis will do, Captain. One other thing about the Harradan. They aren’t just one bunch you know. They’re clansmen. If they ain’t fighting Goblins and such, hells...” Lode barked a short laugh. “...They ‘re quite content to fight each other.”

  Forge thought for a moment. “I did figure that it had to be a combined force. Three clans?”

  Lode nodded. “I’d say more like a half-dozen or so. Judging from the different patterns of cloth they are wearing. I tell you, it ain’t often that you see that many clans fighting along side each other. Must have been offered a real stack of cash.”

  “They don’t like each other much then?” asked Forge

  “From what Old Hoarty says, and he would know, he’s never heard of such a large band. The clan leaders don’t trust each other. Expect their neighbour to stick a knife in their back given half a chance. And they’re probably right,” replied Lode

  “What can we figure from this?” mused Forge.

  “It means they probably aren’t a tight, disciplined force,” said Sergeant Mac. “Too busy watching each other’s backs. I guess they are being held together by a strong personality. Persuasive. Keeping the others in line.”

  “Could be we might be able to get some of the buggers upset. Lose interest,” added Corporal Jonas.

  “Just what I was t
hinking,” agreed Lode.

  “OK. Useful stuff. It may be that these guys might cut and run if they think there is nothing in it for them. Make ‘em believe the cost is too high. Sow a bit of discord,” Forge clapped his hands. “Good. OK, gentlemen. Let’s talk about how we organise the welcome party.”

  Forge and his men then got down to the nitty-gritty of the tactics they would employ. He took his men outside to better appreciate the ground they would fight on.

  “We could just bust the bridge now. But I’d like them to get slowed up before they get to it. Hit ‘em, see if they bite, then draw ‘em out.” He indicated the skeleton framework of the bridge. No further work had been done on it since the arrival of the trappers. “We pull back across the Rooke, destroy what we can and then retreat to the fort. Whatever else happens, they won’t be expecting an attack from a large force. That will slow them down. Make them have to think a bit. When they have sorted that mess out they then have to deal with not having a bridge. It’s all about time. If we don’t engage them, they walk right on up to where the bridge was then sit down and work out a plan.” Forge stopped to look at his men. “Every hour we delay them, the nearer our own troops will be to us.”

  “How do you figure they’ll get across?” asked Sergeant Grippa.

  “They can’t come from the north. Corporal Kyle has already checked that out for me. The land rises further up and the Rooke issues from a deep, fast-flowing gorge. They could risk it but it is too near to the fort. The river is stronger and if they lose someone then we might get wind of their crossing. My guess is they would just go south. More places to cross and less chance of resistance. So we plan that they will have to cross further south. That’ll take them a while to get across in force.”

  “Won’t they just pass us by?” asked Sergeant Pike.

  “Not if they have a commander with any sense. You don’t leave an enemy behind your back. No, they’ll want to take us out and that is just what we want them to do.”

  “Are we just going to let them get across and surround us?” asked Locke.

  “We could put a blocking force further downriver,” suggested Sergeant Mac. “Try and shadow their movements, identify where they might cross. When they do, hit ‘em with missile fire. Then pull back to the fort.”

  “Good idea. We can try and match their bet,” agreed Forge. “But we don’t want them to know we’re waiting. As soon as we pull back over the bridge they are going to have eyes on us from their side.”

  “We send some guys down to the far side of the clearing and keep watch,” said Sergeant Mac. “Soon as they see the fort they’ll be looking to the south.

  “Yeah, we’ll do that,” agreed Forge.

  “Got a problem if they have archers,” observed Corporal Jonas who had been staring over the water. “They can get a bunch of guys in the wood line opposite the fort. Those trees go right up to the bank, shooting range one hundred yards.”

  Forge nodded quietly.

  “Damn,” said Sergeant Pike. “They just need to keep lobbing them over our walls. Keep us pinned down nice and tight.”

  “Lode, did you see any archers?” asked Forge.

  “Not on the Harradan. But then it isn’t their style. They like to get up close. But the wagon train was full of arrows and bows.”

  “Don’t matter how badly aimed the arrows are, if you got a hundred coming at yer,” announced Old Hoarty, who had snuck up behind the group uninvited.

  Forge glared at him but agreed with the point. “What about the Shifter men, do you know what type of troops they were?”

  Lode shrugged. “Don’t know about that. Military stuff isn’t my area.”

  “In which case, something for Corporal Jonas and yourself to find out.”

  “Sir,” put in Sergeant Mac. “We seem to be relying heavily on missile fire to keep them at bay. But we are infantry. Apart from about half a dozen men with hunting bows, there is only Corporal Jonas with that bloody great longbow of his that knows how to shoot straight.”

  “And us too. Most likely worth three men apiece when it comes to hitting a target first time,” piped up Old Hoarty.

  “Don’t doubt it old-timer,” said Forge. “That’s a dozen bowmen. But more would be good. Nothing fancy. I guess our construction crew might be able to help?” He glanced at Juma.

  “Yes, we can make bows and use them. But only the wood. We do not have….” he struggled for the word and mimed the action of pulling back a bow string.

  Sergeant Pike nodded. “Ah, gut or sinew or some such. Bowstring. That’s what you’re after.” He spoke slowly and enunciated his words as he would to a simpleton or a child.

  Juma smiled and inclined his head. “Indeed. Bow.... string.” He repeated the words like Sergeant Pike had spoken them, laced with sarcasm.

  There was gentle laughter from the others.

  “All right, all right,” said Sergeant Pike clearly embarrassed. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

  “Good,” said Forge. “Right, you two.” He indicated Corporal Jonas and Lode. “I want you leaving in ten minutes. Get to their camp. Have a look-see then get back here soon as. And try not to get caught.” He eyed Jonas who raised an eyebrow at that unlikely scenario. “Now everyone else, let’s look at the defences”.

  They spent the next hour running through how the defences might be bolstered. Forge was secretly pleased at his own foresight in ordering the clean-up of the fort. It would make the work ahead much easier. It was decided that the first job would be to rebuild the parapet around the walls. They already had a stock of timber that had been collected for use on the bridge the following day. Whilst the Bantusai worked on that, the Ashkent troops could be split. Some would aid the captives they should be guarding, whilst others were sent out into the woods to fell trees. These would then be used to replace the smaller palisade stakes in the walls as a much larger and stronger barrier. A further party of twenty men under Lieutenant Locke commenced the digging of a fire trench. This trench would run around the fort at a distance of twenty yards from the walls, shortening to ten on the river side.

  Sergeant Pike and his small quartermaster section went about dismantling the original camp in anticipation of moving into the fort. While this work was going on, and quite forgotten by everyone, the men of Noel’s Gap had bivouacked in the trees to the north of the fort. They had rested for a time, lit a fire and had talked amongst themselves. Sleeps and Juggs then disappeared into the forest to check some game snares. The remaining three watched them go with interest.

  “Aha, bloody knew it,” said Arald triumphantly.

  “Don’t take two to check,” sniffed Fuzz.

  “I knew them two were at it!” Arald was grinning with self-satisfaction.

  “Course they are,” observed Old Hoarty nonchalantly. “Been rutting since they were kids.”

  Arald looked over open-mouthed. ”You bloody knew?”

  “Course. Most other people would ‘ave figured it if’n Juggs had ever got with child. They never did though. Not much point a marryin’ if there ain’t a child.”

  Fuzz leaned back and scratched his head thoughtfully whilst Arald muttered to himself and poked at the fire.

  “Anyway,” continued Old Hoarty. “I got an idea.”

  Another discussion ensued. Then Arald and Fuzz casually wandered down to the bridge site. Most of the work at that time was happening on the western side of the fort. The fire trench would be dug along that side last. So whilst a few men noticed the two shabby trappers pointing and nodding at aspects of the construction, the watchers quickly dismissed them as ignorant civilians and got back to their own ball-breaking tasks. With a quick glance around, Fuzz stooped down and collected one of the ropes that had been used the day before and which had been coiled and left for possible future use. Both he and Arald turned and strolled back to their spot in the forest glancing about with polite interest at the activity around th
em. Old Hoarty grinned and gave them a discreet thumbs up as they drew near.

  By the end of the day the fort was looking far more respectable. However, there was still much work to be done and it continued for many hours into the night. Forge had torches lit and Sergeant Pike built a large cook fire in the centre of the courtyard. He had cooked up another of his stews using the rest of the meet caught the previous day and was feeding the workers on a rotational basis. In a large pile near the fire was a collection of brush and smaller branches. These were being dried by the heat of the fire deliberately. It would act as the tinder for the fire trench. As they had no pure alcohol, it was critical that the trench could be lit and brought to an adequate flame as quickly as possible. Corporal Jonas still had some of his flammable liquid but Forge was reluctant to use it unless absolutely necessary.

  Men were still working on the fire trench, supplemented by those that had been felling trees earlier. The gap in the eastern wall had been replaced with three thick tree trunks that had been cut to fifteen feet in height and then the bottom third lowered into the ground. The work was gruelling and there had been a great deal of cursing, swearing and a liberal use of sexual insults were bandied around. The parapet was two thirds complete and the Bantusai were erecting the final sections. There was very little banging and hammering going on as the Bantusai were using a system of joint and tongue and groove fittings to put the wood into position. They also used crude pegs that they moulded into the wood itself. As they worked, they sang to the wood, their voices gentle and lilting. Soldiers followed on behind and tried to make good those parts of the rampart that had crumbled. Crude ladders had been put up to allow access to the upper level and stone was scavenged from what had been piled outside the fort and from the surrounding ruins. They humped the heavy material to the walls and then heaved them up and into place. Whilst not as solid as the rest of the walls, they would at least afford protection and a shield from missile fire.

  Around midnight the men began to retire, exhausted from their day’s labour. The Captain insisted that they get sufficient rest. They would need their strength soon enough. The Bantusai returned to their cage and men were set to watch them. The prisoners did not seem as weary as the soldiers who guarded them. Most of the soldiers were soon rolled up in their blankets on the floor of the courtyard up against the walls and partly sheltered by the new walkway above them. Forge slept in the tower by himself. He wanted to see how much of it could be restored tomorrow. This would be their last bastion if the walls were breached. Though if that happened he couldn’t see whoever was left lasting long. And of course they still had to build a new gate. And how long did they have left? And how were his two spies getting on? Despite his troubled thoughts, fatigue aided in sending him swiftly to sleep.

  Outside the walls Lieutenant Locke prowled restlessly. He had left the fort to check on the sentries placed on the far side of the river. At least that was his official reason. In reality he had had to get out of the suffocating confines of their new home. Hah! It was a tomb. He worried at his nails as his mind made sense of the day’s activities. He had listened with disbelief to the plans that the rest of them had been laying. He couldn’t believe that Forge wanted them to stay and fight. The man had lost his mind. And to include the slave leader in his planning! It went against all manner of military and social protocols as far as he was concerned. His captain was making a dreadful mistake; Locke was sure of it. He was quite prepared to throw all their lives away on the word of a bunch of uneducated mountain men. This was all because Forge had lost control, had lost so many of his troops that he wanted to reassert control over his men. He clearly wanted to prove his military prowess, be the hero. In so doing he would improve his standing with the soldiers. Well, Locke saw through him, but he had learnt better than to voice his views in front of his commander. No doubt the man would shout him down, clap him in irons or some other humiliation. It made simple sense to Locke; all they need do is dismantle the bridge and pull back to re-join the regiment. It was obvious to anyone with a shred of military sense. The Captain had his sergeants fooled. As Locke had supervised the building of the fire trench he had listened to Sergeant Grippa who was digging nearby. The man had seemed positively cheerful with the prospect of going into battle. A hopeless cause appeared to excite the man and the soldiers around him had all caught this infectious insanity. Locke knew the truth. They would all die here. As they day had progressed so the knot of unease in his stomach had began to grow. The enemy would cross the river, surround the fort and slaughter them all. He didn’t want to die here, but what could he do? You can still behave like a proper officer. He stalked off into the darkness towards the river.