Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,36
pulse accelerating at the sight. The warmth of the rising sun upon her cheeks chased away the night’s lingering chill, but it couldn’t warm the cold knot of fear tightening in her belly.
She had already lived through a siege, and it had been terrifying. But this attack was going to be infinitely worse.
The mist continued to roll back, and Gavina glanced around, taking in their defenses. Rows of men in mail shirts and gleaming black helms now lined the walls. Archers wielding both cross and longbows stood at the ready. Much bigger crossbows had been erected upon the defenses as well, big enough to hurl projectiles at the enemy from above.
An acrid odor filled her nostrils then—the burning stench of quicklime and pine resin. Pails of Greek fire lined the walls. A useful weapon indeed, for when mixed with water, it burst into flames. Unfortunately, the English would have plenty of it too.
Once Edward’s men tried scaling the walls, they would have arrows and rocks cast down on them, but that wasn’t likely to happen today.
First, according to the Wallace, the English would do some damage to the curtain walls. After that, they would turn their attention to the gates.
Gavina’s jaw tightened. Dunnottar was fortunate in its position, perched high upon the headland with only one side landward. The Wallace’s men had dug a deep ditch around the base on that side, and filled it with iron spikes. That would make it harder for the enemy to put up ladders.
To reach the castle gates, the army had to pick its way down a steep slope and then climb through a defile—a narrow path that would slow them further.
As if reading Gavina’s thoughts, the Wallace spoke up. “There are many of them, My Lady,” he rumbled. “But it wouldn’t matter if twice that number were to lay siege to the castle. Only a handful at a time can get close to us.”
Gavina nodded. He was right, yet his words didn’t make her feel any better.
The sky lightened further, shifting from rose-pink to a fiery red.
The sight made Divina’s already nervous belly tighten. It looked as if blood stained the morning sky—an ill omen for the first day of battle.
Then, as they waited, a long, drawn-out wail echoed over the cliff-top—a horn.
Gavina had been waiting for the signal, but even so, it startled her. Her breathing caught, and her heart started to race.
A heartbeat passed, and then another, and Gavina continued to hold her breath.
Then on the cliff-edge opposite, the English army gave a great roar. It had begun.
XV
TO WHATEVER END
THE MOMENT GAVINA ventured out into the walled garden and the castle’s upper ward, she regretted it.
Indoors, the shouts of soldiers and the whooshing sound of trebuchets launching was muffled. Every so often, the keep would shudder from the impact of rocks and Greek fire hitting the curtain walls, but for the most part those indoors could keep their heads down and ignore the siege.
Outdoors was a different matter.
Gavina inhaled a lungful of acrid smoke, which caught in her lungs and made her cough. Out here, the clash of iron on stone and the thunder of stones and debris hitting the walls rang in her ears.
The roar of men’s voices had screams blended with them.
Scots were dying.
Whomp. Whomp.
Two more projectiles hit the curtain wall, sending a deep shudder through the entire fortress.
Sucking in a deep breath, and then regretting it as another fit of coughing seized her, Gavina wiped her stinging eyes and walked over to the rose bed. In an effort to distract herself, her gaze traveled over the magnificent blooms of red and pink. Bees were buzzing there, and a butterfly had just landed on the wall, oblivious to the turmoil going on around it.
As he promised, Edward had begun his siege at daybreak. And he hadn’t paused since. The bastard had set up a line of trebuchets—big iron and oak machines of war from which he hurled chunks of lead and slate, and Greek fire—along the cliff-edge opposite.
At noon, when Gavina had dared peek out the window of the solar to see how their defenses were holding up, she was frustrated to realize that she couldn’t see much from her vantage point. After the siege began, she’d retreated from the top of the wall. It had been too dangerous for her to remain there.
Now, as the afternoon drew out, she found that she dreaded discovering what damage the English had already wrought.