understand.
“When the king ordered the townsmen to disperse, they defied him at first, jeering and cursing and even daring to make that evil-eye gesture of theirs. He was infuriated by their defiance, angrier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve seen him as hot as molten lead.”
“So? Kings do not take well to mockery. What of it?”
Morgan paused again. How could he admit that he had misgivings about Richard’s judgment, that he feared Richard’s temper might lead him into doing something rash? He was spared the need to respond, though, for Richard had just ridden into the camp. The knights of his household were gathering around him, and Morgan and Warin hastened to join them. By the time they reached him, Richard had just chosen André de Chauvigny to lead the assault upon the town gates.
André was delighted, but surprised, too, for he’d never known Richard not to be the first one into the breach. “We will need time to make a battering ram, though—”
Richard was already shaking his head. “No . . . take axes and strike at the gate hinges. That will keep them occupied whilst I lead some of our men around to the west. There is a postern gate in the wall there and the approach is so steep that it is not well guarded. We ought to be able to force an entry easily enough, and once we’re inside, we can open the gates for the rest of you whilst our galleys attack the city from the sea.”
That met with enthusiastic approval. Morgan felt a rush of relief, realizing his qualms had been needless. There was nothing haphazard or impulsive about the battle plan Richard had just proposed; it was well conceived and tactically sound. But he had to ask. “How do you know about that postern gate, sire?”
“The day after my arrival in Messina, I went out and inspected the city’s defenses.”
Morgan wasn’t sure what surprised him the most—that Richard had the foresight to anticipate trouble with the townspeople, or that he sounded so coolly matter-of-fact now. It was as if the liquid fire of Sicily’s great volcano had suddenly iced over, he marveled, so dramatic had been this transformation from enraged king to calculating battle commander, and when Richard began to select men for that covert assault upon the postern gate, he was among the first to volunteer.
THE ASCENT WAS A STEEP ONE, but once they reached the postern gate, they discovered that Richard was right and it was unguarded. A startled sentry did not appear until their axes had smashed it open, and his cry of alarm was choked off by a crossbow bolt to the throat. Scrambling through the shattered timbers, they followed Richard into a ghost city, for at first it seemed like one. The street was deserted, and the few civilians they encountered fled before them. They advanced cautiously, knowing word would quickly spread of their intrusion, and people were soon shouting and cursing from open windows. Before long, rocks and crockery and arrows were raining down upon them, but they fended off the aerial onslaught with their shields. One bold householder flung the contents of a chamber pot and drenched an unlucky soldier, much to his outrage and the amusement of the others. He wanted to exact vengeance then and there, but was sternly reminded that they had more pressing matters. He was still arguing about it, though, when one of Richard’s scouts came racing back, warning that a large group of men were gathering ahead.
Richard dispatched some of his knights toward a nearby alley, saying it led into a street that ran parallel to their own. Morgan was one of the men chosen for this diversion and they took off at a run, hoping to cover as much distance as possible while they still had the element of surprise. Impressed by the thoroughness of their king’s reconnaissance, for the alley had indeed opened into a narrow lane, they hastened along it until they came to a wider cross street. By now they could hear the unmistakable clamor of conflict and they followed the sound, soon coming onto a chaotic scene.
Several carts had been overturned to form an impromptu barricade. The townsmen crouching behind it outnumbered Richard’s knights and crossbowmen, but they were mismatched against battle-seasoned, mail-clad warriors and were already giving ground by the time Morgan and his companions assailed them from the rear. Within moments the skirmish was over, the burghers in flight. Hurrying to keep