Chapter Five #2
Fairynne looked at her sister curiously as Asmara took the hemp rope and tied a loop at one end of it.
The curtain wall had battlements, meaning it had regularly spaced, square openings so defenders could shoot enemies below and then use the battlements for protection from incoming enemy projectiles.
It also meant that if they could get the big loop of the rope around one the solid square features in between the openings, they could use that to anchor the rope so the men waiting below could climb up the wall.
Soon enough, Fairynne understood what her sister was doing and she, too, tied a big loop in the end of her rope. The wall itself was perhaps eighteen to twenty feet high, and their ropes weren’t quite so long, but long enough that Blayth and his men would be able to get hold of them when lowered.
With both ropes looped at the end, it was finally time to act.
Asmara dropped to her hands and knees as she crept onto the wall walk, keeping a low profile until she could see just where the English soldiers were.
As soon as she emerged onto the wall walk, she could see the English – there were a few in the darkness, over by the gatehouse, and only three on the vast wall walk, as far as she could see.
The men on the wall walk were also over near the two-storied gatehouse, clustered there, as one of them sat on the edge of it, his legs dangling over the side.
Clearly, these were men who were not expecting an attack this night, but something had their attention over by the gatehouse because that was where they all seemed to be gathered.
Asmara wondered if they had sighted her father and Morys, who would be moving their army into position in anticipation of the gate opening.
If that was the case, then the element of surprise would soon be lost. With that in mind, Asmara knew she had to move quickly while their attention was diverted.
She and her sister may not have another chance.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, Asmara moved to the battlements.
Quickly rising to her feet, she looped the rope over the nearest stone square and tossed the rope down the side of the wall.
Fairynne was a little slower in getting her rope secured, so Asmara quickly moved to help her, making sure both ropes were over the side so the men could climb up.
Peering over the side of the wall, she could see men moving towards the ropes through the darkness.
They were coming.
But so were the English. No sooner had they thrown the ropes over the side than someone saw them.
Shouts drifted in their direction and the women turned, startled, to see the men from the gatehouse looking at them.
A brief moment of horror in realizing they’d been seen was replaced by determination as Asmara swung into action.
“The staffs and shields,” she hissed, pointing to the tower. “Quickly – we must get them. I will fight them off. You must protect the ropes until the men can mount them!”
Fairynne might have been young and foolish at times, but she shared Asmara’s sense of determination.
She, too, understood that this was critical, so she rushed ahead of her sister into the tower room and began grabbing items. She shoved a shield at her sister and then a staff, and as Asmara ran back onto the battlements to fight off what was sure to be an incoming horde of English, Fairynne also picked up a staff and returned to her post by the ropes.
She wanted to be armed in case anyone made it past her sister.
She was prepared to fight to the death.
Asmara, too, was ready for them. She stood her ground several feet down the wall walk, giving her sister and the incoming Welsh plenty of room as she faced off against several English soldiers who were now heading in her direction.
Two of them had torches, lighting up the faces of the enemy against the early morning darkness.
Although she’d been nervous about facing a moment like this, as the reality of it approached, Asmara found that she wasn’t nervous at all.
She was angry; angry that the English were here, angry that she had to fight them off.
Anger fed her bravery. With the shield in one hand and the staff in the other, she braced herself.
Oddly enough, the English were slow to move.
Seeing two women, and really having no idea why they were there, had them moving cautiously, which was to the advantage of the Welshmen on the ropes.
Four of them were already climbing, Blayth being one of them, and he was already almost halfway to the top.
But the English weren’t looking at their walls, at least not yet.
They were still trying to figure out why two women were on the wall walk and that distraction would work against them.
As several of them moved closer to Asmara, their manner remained almost timid.
And she sensed it. Asmara was, if nothing else, extremely intuitive.
She could see that they were quite confused and perhaps even slightly interested.
She could only surmise that they didn’t see what was going on behind her, and that men weren’t climbing the walls at that very moment and that, soon, the castle would be under attack.
It was dark enough that they could only see two women on the walls, but if they moved those torches any closer, they would soon see the ropes being used.
Then, it would turn into battle.
Therefore, Asmara took a step towards them, lifting her staff and shield, and smiling hugely.
He had a lovely smile, in fact, with straight white teeth and slightly prominent canines.
It was a gesture that lit up her entire face, something not missed by the English.
Not only was a woman on their wall walk, but a beautiful one at that.
“Cyfarchion,” Asmara said in Welsh. Greetings. “I would wager to say that you did not expect to find two lonely women here tonight.”
The Englishman had no idea what to make of it. The man in front, an older man in well-used mail, peered strangely at her.
“Lonely?” he repeated. “What are you doing here, lass? How did you get here?”
Asmara turned her smile on him. “What else would I be doing here?” she said. “I am looking for a little… amusement.”
The English soldier was greatly confused by her response. He indicated the shield and staff in her hands. “What kind of amusement?”
Asmara shrugged lightly, hoping she could keep them talking until someone got to the top of the rope and she could have help fending them all off.
“You fight me,” she said. “If I lose, I become your prisoner. But if you lose…”
The soldier folded his arms in front of his chest expectantly. “I will not lose to you,” he said. He wagged an irritable finger at her. “Come along, now. Why are you here? Tell me the truth. And tell me how you got here.”
Asmara lifted her shoulders. “I flew in, like a bird,” she said. “If you beat me in a fight, then I shall tell you. But until you do, you will simply have to take my word for it.”
The soldier opened his mouth to reply but something behind the woman caught his attention. In fact, he watched in shock as two men vaulted over the top of the battlements. But his shock wasn’t so great that he didn’t realize what was happening. Suddenly, he let out a bellow.
“Breach!”
The game was over. Realizing that Blayth and his men were showing themselves, Asmara did the only thing she could do – she charged the English soldiers standing in front of her, using the shield to literally scoop them backwards.
The older soldier tried to grab her, but she kneed the man in the groin so hard that he immediately fell to his knees, blocking the way for the soldiers behind him to charge.
That moment of respite allowed Asmara to bring the shield up and slam them in the face.
She caught two of them squarely, with one of them falling straight off the wall walk and into the bailey below.
But there were still men to take their place and she fell into a frenzy, striking and stabbing at everything that moved.
The English were unprepared for her onslaught.
Because they’d been on watch when she’d come onto the wall, they had nothing more than crossbows with them, no broadswords, and now they had a woman who was fighting furiously, driving them back further, and further still.
She was doing a marvelous job of fighting them off, but there were more of them than there were of her.
It was only a matter of time before they turned the tides.
Unfortunately for the English soldiers, there were now men on the wall walk that were not English, men who had climbed the wall on ropes evidently provided by the very woman they found themselves fighting off.
The only possible explanation was the Welsh were going to try and take the castle, so the English were scrambling to gather their weapons and preparing to fight off the invaders.
Very quickly, chaos reigned.
But Asmara didn’t back away and she didn’t run, not even when she saw more English soldiers running for the wall walk.
She held her ground, fighting and struggling, kicking and punching, until one of the soldiers managed to rip the staff from her hand.
He turned it on her, preparing to strike, when a big body suddenly appeared between Asmara and the English.
Blayth had arrived.
The man had carried his short sword with him up that treacherous rope, and he dispatched two of the English soldiers before the rest began to run, backing away from the enormous Welshman with the deadly strike.
When one man tried to challenge him, he punched him in the face, sending him to the ground and, in the same motion, stealing the man’s broadsword.
Armed with a big weapon now, he moved menacingly towards the rest of the soldiers rushing up to the wall walk as Asmara, Aeddan, and Pryce tucked in behind him.