Chapter Thirteen
Babylon
It started with a fire off to the northeast, a fire in the distance on the cold and snowy night that immediately created a brilliant spot of light across the barren landscape.
The gatehouse of Babylon faced northwest; therefore, the men at the gatehouse were turned away from the main gate by the sight of the fire in the distance.
It was an extremely odd occurrence, one that had every man on the wall peering at the blaze in the distance, wondering what it could be.
There were a few farms up in that area, farms that helped supply Babylon with cattle and other products, and there was also a small forest that they could see clustered up on the horizon.
Other than those few landmarks, there was nothing else of note and certainly nothing that would create or otherwise warrant a fire the size of the one they were seeing.
Conor, wrapped heavily in wool and furs, watched the fire from the battlements.
He had both of his scouts on the wall with him as well as the soldier who had originally come to give him the scouts’ report.
Word had spread through the men that a large army had been sighted well to the south, heading to Manchester, so the men knew that there was activity in the area.
The very air at Babylon was tense, knowing that danger was lurking about but uncertain as to what, exactly, that danger was.
All they knew was that they could feel it in their veins and as the bright moon shone down upon them, a silver disc in the freezing night, there wasn’t one man at Babylon that didn’t sense the approach of something wicked and deadly.
Something terrible was coming.
Conor could feel it most of all. He had been charged with the safekeeping of Babylon, after all, and he wasn’t a man to fail at his post. He suspected that the fire in the distance was meant to draw them out, to see what was happening, and he had no intention of opening the gates to send out scouts.
Therefore, he remained on the wall, watching the fire as it burned steadily.
His curiosity was great, of course, but so was his sense of suspicion.
Greater still was his sense of self-preservation.
The fire in the distance wasn’t a natural phenomenon; therefore, it would stand to reason that someone had created it.
So he stood there with his men, monitoring the fire in the distance as well as keeping watch over the gatehouse and the walls.
The wall walk reached around the entire perimeter of the castle, including back near the slope of the hill where there were trees and a path from the river up to the kitchen’s postern gate.
The gate was heavily fortified, with an iron grate on the exterior of the wall as well as the interior of the wall, and it was very small, so much so that only one man could pass through it at a time and even that man had to be crouched down to go through it.
It was purposely built to make movement difficult so any enemy trying to pass through would immediately be at a disadvantage.
When one passed through the postern gate, they were immediately in the outer ward, literally an area of space between the outer and inner walls that was no more than fifteen feet deep.
Then there was a second opening cut into the interior wall that led to the kitchen yard beyond, which was the vast open space between the interior wall and the keep.
Conor kept men not only on the battlements, but also patrolling the space between the inner and outer walls.
A soldier checked the postern gate with regularity, but this was where Conor made his grave mistake – he had the same man check the gate repeatedly, a solitary sentry who roamed alone because most of the men were on the wall.
When that man was knocked unconscious by Nicola with a large fire poker so that she could unlock the postern gate and allow the Conisbrough men inside, no one knew anything about it until it was too late.
By then, the damage was done.
The first Conor realized there was trouble was when men in the inner ward bearing crossbows began firing at the sentries on the walls.
Conor was barely missed by an arrow but the soldier standing next to him and one of the scouts who had seen the big army to the south weren’t so lucky; they fell immediately, as did scores of other men hit by the barrage of arrows.
As Conor and the others took cover on the walls and began to return fire, the men in the ward that had initially fired the arrows then charged the gatehouse, and the gate, and the battle for control of Babylon was on.
Conor could hear the fighting as he labored to stay low, away from the flying arrows, but even as he struggled to assess what had happened, deep down, he already knew.
Somehow, someway, men had breached Babylon, and he made his way on his hands and knees towards the gatehouse to defend it.
He was stunned to realize that men were able to enter Babylon in spite of the safeguards he had set up and it confirmed to him then that the fire in the distance had been a ruse.
It had been meant to attract, and keep, their attention, which it had.
While they had been watching the flames, the enemy had evidently mounted the walls.
Or perhaps they dug holes beneath them or even launched themselves over them.
Whatever the case, Babylon was now compromised.
Feeling very foolish, and very angry, Conor drew his broadsword and charged down the narrow spiral staircase of the gatehouse, only to be blocked by several of his soldiers who had already tried the same thing.
They were dammed up by men at the entrance to the gatehouse down below, fighting to keep them from all coming down off the walls.
Conor began shoving men aside in his attempt to get down to where the fighting was.
He was near the door and could see the battle going on beyond, near the portcullis.
The great portcullis itself had already been partially lifted and men were pouring in through the breach.
Conor had no idea where the enemy army had come from because he and his men had been keeping careful watch of the surrounding countryside.
They even kept watch of the River Black, which ran to the south and west of Babylon, but there was vegetation on the banks of the river and Conor came to understand that the enemy army must have used the river itself to their advantage.
While the fire burned, the army had moved in stealth upon Babylon and now, for their lack of awareness, Conor and his men were paying the price.
God’s Bones, he felt like such an idiot.
He had let Kenton down.
That was the worst dishonor he could possibly imagine, letting down le Bec, a man he so greatly admired and a man who had been kind to him.
And man who had survived so much and had fought many great battles.
The fury of Conor’s failure breathed new life into his resolve and he shoved men aside, moving in between them, scratching and clawing to get free of the gatehouse stairs and to where the fighting was taking place.
He was able to shoot through the doorway and into a tide of incoming hostiles.
They seemed to be coming from everywhere.
Conor had to find a way to stop them or die trying.
As the battle for Babylon was in full swing, a ragtag army headed towards Babylon from Rochdale, a group of beaten and fleeing men who had another group of men pursuing them.
There were no standards flying, from anyone, and therefore no way to know that the ragtag army was what was left of Kenton’s fighting force after the route at Manchester.
There were three knights in the lead who, after seeing the siege of Babylon as it was illuminated by the big, silver moon, took their beaten and exhausted army to the south, to a minor road that ran towards the east.
There was no returning home for the fragments of Kenton le Bec’s army so the remaining knights in command acted wisely and bypassed the besieged Babylon, choosing instead to take the remains of the army to safety elsewhere. Beaten and shattered, if they wanted to survive, they had little choice.
But neither Conor nor his men saw any of it.
He was too busy trying to reclaim Babylon from the men that were quickly gaining the upper hand.
With only two hundred men to defend Babylon, the battle was over almost the moment it started, but Conor never gave up.
Not even when he was swarmed with enemy soldiers, who managed to disarm him and beat him fairly badly did he give up.
He was still fighting until the last, until someone mercifully landed a heavy blow to his unprotected head which stilled the big, red-haired knight once and for all.
Then, and only then, did Conor stop resisting.
For him, it was over.