Chapter Thirteen
The mist shielded their movements.
Langley’s thousand-man army mingled with El Vibora’s close to two hundred and fifty highly trained men created a formidable army that crept across the wet, misty fields just before dawn, heading for the enormous target of Septentrion Castle.
Gage was in the lead. He knew this land intimately, as did Laurence and Brian, and they rode with the army until they were about four miles out before shielding the horses in the trees and covering the last four miles on foot.
Four miles of no noise, no horses, no wagons, nothing to tip off Septentrion that an army was on its doorstep.
The initial onslaught was silent, but the surgeon wagons and other ancillary wagons were waiting back in the trees at the four-mile mark, prepared to move out after dawn.
If everything went according to plan, they would roll up to a battle already in progress.
That was the hope, anyway.
The sneak attack had been the best course of action as decided by Varro and Brian, the two commanders, and the others heartily agreed.
They had made the decision during the planning meeting to attack the very next day, giving Septentrion’s spies less time to see that a mercenary army had arrived at Langley and report back to Boothe, who would undoubtedly be on the alert.
They wanted to catch him as unaware as they could.
Fortunately, they had the blessing of the mist as well, concealing their movements, but they also had the advantage of Gage and Laurence knowing Septentrion intimately.
They knew how to get in.
Septentrion was built upon Roman ruins, as there were many such ruins in the valley between Hexham and Carlisle, but because of the way the castle had been built, the very foundation the castle, walls, and bailey sat upon was elevated.
The keep itself was on a raised foundation that wasn’t a motte.
On the east side of the castle walls were big drains that dumped into the moat, drains that had been built by the Romans to syphon moisture out of their courtyard and stables and, now, they were a sewer for Septentrion.
But they were big enough for a man to get through.
Those big sewers, partially blocked off by muck and debris, went from the moat, under the walls and foundation and then ended in the wall of the stable yard.
Years ago, they had grates over the openings to prevent an enemy from using them, but Septentrion had known peace for fifty or more years and the grates, while still there, were never secured.
Gage was counting on that to still be the case.
Therefore, the morning’s big task was going to be a ruse by diverting Septentrion’s attention to the gatehouse while Gage, Laurence, Azul, Wyeth, and a team of about twenty mercenary soldiers were going to make their way into those sewers and then to the gatehouse.
Wyeth had stories about using a drainage system at a castle in Cornwall he refused to name, using it for the basis of instructing them how to plug noses and ears up so the filth didn’t get into body orifices.
The plan was to use the sewers, make entry into the stable yard, and then make their way to the gatehouse to release the portcullis.
Once it was partially open, Brian’s army would flood the bailey and take control of the castle.
It was Judgment Day for Boothe de Reyne.
As the sun began to rise and they were still about a mile out from Septentrion, the mist began to lighten.
That meant it would more than likely lift once the sun began to rise in earnest, which was unwelcome news.
Sometimes the mists this far north would hang on all day long, but this didn’t seem to be one of those days.
They would have to move faster in order to get into position before the mist lifted completely.
Because the sun was rising and the mist was beginning to burn off, Varro gave the order for the men to remove their helms so they wouldn’t reflect the rising sun.
In fact, he gave the order to remove anything that might reflect the sun, an order echoed by Brian, and the men began to strip off anything shiny.
That meant helms, any arm braces, and even hauberks. Gage stripped down to only his mail coat, which was covered by Varro’s serpent tunic, and his group dumped half their protection about a quarter of a mile from the castle. The bulk of the army, however, kept most everything on except the helms.
At this point, everyone needed to take their positions.
“Tynedale knows the plan of Septentrion, so he will take you to the gatehouse,” Gage told Varro.
“The last time I was here, and I doubt it has changed, there was a heavy growth of trees off to the north of the gatehouse. You should be able to use it to your advantage. Show them a hint of the army and have them looking in your direction while we gain entry. Once we are in, we will go straight to the gatehouse and you must be ready to rush forward and help us lift it. At that point, we will probably be in a battle, so come in fighting.”
Varro’s green eyes looked even more piercing this morning than usual, his face flushed from having run nearly four miles. “We shall be ready, El Norte,” he said. “How long do you estimate it will take you to get to the gatehouse once you enter the sewer?”
Gage glanced at Laurence, the two of them working on the question together.
“It depends on how blocked the sewer is,” Gage finally said.
“If it takes us longer to unblock it, that will substantially increase the time, but I would say once we enter the sewer, it should take us less than ten minutes to get to the gatehouse – providing the path is relatively clear.”
As Varro nodded, Brian chimed in. “Take one of my men with you,” he said. “When the blockage is cleared and you enter the sewer, he will come back and tell us. We will start counting the minutes from there.”
Gage nodded. “Good,” he said, but then he looked at everyone.
“As Tynedale has told us, my brother does not have a well-trained army these days, but that does not mean they will not fight. Also, Septentrion used to have good archers, so watch the walls in case they raise hellfire upon you. But for the army inside the gatehouse… be prepared to overwhelm them before they can give us a serious fight.”
“Vaya con Dios,” Varro said. “Hurry, now. There is no time to waste. This mist will lift soon.”
Gage turned on his heel, rushing off into the mist with Laurence, Azul, Wyeth, and twenty other men on his heels.
The last time Gage had been here, there had been a clear field of vision cleared around the entire castle.
In some places, there were great gaps in the trees and one could see for miles.
He was fairly certain things would have been much different without the mist but, for now, it was still to their advantage as they headed to the south side of the castle.
Soon, it became evident through the fog.
The massive, gray walls of Septentrion Castle.
“Damnation,” Wyeth hissed. “You did not tell us the walls were so tall!”
Gage could see them through the mist. “They are quite tall,” he said. “Scaling them is out of the question. That is why we must go through the sewers.”
“There they are,” Laurence said, pointing. “See them?”
Everyone strained to see the two big, half-circular holes in the side of Septentrion’s wall that were half-buried in the muck of the moat.
With no time to waste, Gage was the first one into the moat that was only half-filled, far less than it had been during his time there.
It was fed by a viaduct from a nearby river, but it was clear that something must have happened to the viaduct.
They were literally walking across the moat, knee-deep in muck.
It didn’t take them any time at all to get to the drains.
At close range, they were an unholy mess.
The drains hadn’t been cleaned in decades and more than likely centuries, so it was a mess of animal filth and human filth along with debris that had somehow been shoved into the drains.
Gage and Laurence and Azul peered into both drains, noting the hard-packed waste that had created a blockage that was like rock. There was no real way to remove it.
There was one saving grace, however.
Between the hard-packed rubbish and the top of the draining pipe, there was a crawl space. It was big enough for a full-grown man, but they would have to go in single file. Both Gage and Laurence came to that conclusion at the same time, looking at each other and shrugging.
“I’ll go in alone to see just how far it goes,” Gage said. Then, he looked at Azul. “You climb into the other one. If it goes all the way through to the grate in the stable yard, come back and tell us. Do not go in alone.”
Flashing a grin, Azul nodded and slithered into the space. With a boost from Laurence, Gage climbed into the other one and away he went.
It was close quarters and confining as he crept along the draining pipe, becoming absolutely filthy as he went.
He tried not to think of the waste he was crawling through, the disgusting quagmire of men and animals, instead focusing on making it to the end.
He kept his eyes on the light at the end of the tunnel, but it was a slow and tedious crawl.
Finally, at the far end of the pipe, the waste became much looser and there was more room to move around. Here, the pipe took a 90 degree turn straight up. Gage could stand up, though it was cramped, and look out of the draining opening that led straight into the kitchen yard.
It wasn’t blocked.