The cart gained momentum and hit hard, sending the ram crunching into the wood of the gates. On the recoil, the cart rolled back, crushing the foot of a man who was too slow getting out of the way of the wheel. He shrieked and toppled over and was instantly felled by an arrow from the bailey. They were under heavy fire as most of the castle’s defenders had flocked to protect the gate.
Lyall peered through a gap at the edge of his shield. ‘Archers, lock and be ready,’ he shouted behind him as the men pushed forward again. Just before the gates, Lyall shouted, ‘Loose,’ and his archers emerged from the cover of the shields to send a volley of arrows straight up, striking several men on the bailey.
One fell forwards and landed with a heavy crunch on top of them, buckling the shield wall inwards. Suddenly there was a wet sound, followed by high-pitched shrieking. Lyall felt a speck of something hot and wet eat into his arm, and cursed. Scorching fat, thrown from above, capable of melting a man’s skin off. Several men went down, some running and rolling in the dirt, much good it would do them, for the fat stuck and continued to burn deep.
Their close formation was breaking up, and they were being picked off one by one, but they couldn’t give up.
‘Brace, men, come together, brace your shields. Now draw back, back I say,’ he yelled. The cart came back slowly, and all the time they were vulnerable, as bang and scrape went the sound of rocks hitting Lyall’s shield as it hovered over Owen’s head.
When they were clear, Owen turned to Lyall. His face was filthy, and he was panting. ‘How much longer? We’ll never get through and we’re losing men?’
‘As long as we have to. Try putting your back into it.’ Lyall turned to the men around him. ‘Move faster this time. Go.’
As the cart lurched forward, the sound of a horn drifted across the castle walls. Lyall lifted the shield a little and saw the defenders above him suddenly turn away from the gates, almost to a man. He smiled. Lord Douglas was over the walls, and his men were attacking the castle from the inside out. He crouched by the wagon, getting no resistance from above, and, within minutes, the main gates parted.
Wulversmeade lay open to its invaders, totally at their mercy.
***
The smoke was choking her. It was filling the tower, and people were running and pushing past. Giselle could barely see her hand in front of her face, and the air was searingly hot. The thatch on the roof must be well and truly alight for the roof beams were creaking and groaning. It might all give way any minute. The stairway down was narrow, and panic had taken hold. Giselle pushed Agnes before her and clutched onto the woman’s shoulder, barely able to see with streaming eyes.
A big man came from behind and tore her aside to get past. Giselle’s head hit the wall with a crack and stars danced before her eyes. She called for Agnes with a croaking voice, and thought she heard her name being screamed as she slid down the wall.
Then everything went black.
How long had she been asleep? Someone was shaking her violently by the shoulders. Giselle tried to open her eyes, but she could not. A stinging slap across the face snapped her out of her stupor, and she looked up into cold, blue eyes and a face streaked with blood. Her eyes were stinging from the smoke, and everything was blurry.
‘Lord Edric?’ she gasped.
‘No lass,’ said the young man, ‘I’m much worse than that.’
Giselle tried to focus her mind. ‘I had a nightmare,’ she said, in a daze.
‘You’re still in it,’ he replied as he hauled her roughly over his shoulder and carried her downwards.
***
Lyall headed to the battlements, with Owen, pushing past panicked servants and women and children rushing towards the open gates to escape. He still had to dodge arrows flying from a pocket of resistance in the far keep as he hurried up the steps. Sensing the castle was almost lost, Sir Hugh and his men must have taken refuge in there and left the rest of the castle to fend for itself.
In the gloom, he spotted Lord Douglas and his men, who were fighting fiercely hand-to-hand on the battlements. When he reached the top of the stairs a man ran at him, both arms raised around an axe, ready to bring it down on his head. Lyall was too quick, and ducked sideways, plunging his sword into the man’s side. As he withdrew it, blood gushed, warm and sticky, down his arm.
When he turned to face the next threat, it was to see Lord Douglas, on his back, with a man poised to deliver the coup de grace. Lyall had no time, so he took hold of the end of his sword and hurled it across the distance between them, like a knife. It struck the man in the back, and he lurched backwards, fingers grabbing behind him and turned, with a confused look on his face, before falling sideways off the battlements. Lyall ran to his master and offered his hand to Lord Douglas, who had blood gushing from his nose and a cut between his eyes.
Owen rushed up. ‘Christ’s blood, that was close,’ he exclaimed.
‘Thought the bastard had me,’ growled Lord Douglas. He shook his head and placed a heavy hand on Lyall’s shoulder to steady himself. ‘You have my thanks, Buchanan,’ he said, spitting blood out onto the floor. ‘Go, seek out any men still fighting and, if they don’t surrender, put them to the sword. Search the castle. If the Queen is here, we must find her. Take any woman you find as a prisoner, in case she has had time to disguise or hide herself.’
‘Where are you going, Lord?’
‘To the keep, to break down the door, and drag those cowardly bastards out.’
Lyall and Owen set off at a run, ducking into outbuildings and meeting very little resistance from the castle’s soldiers. Most had given up and were dropping their weapons when challenged. Why should they fight and die when their Lord had fled into the safety of the keep and left them to their doom? Now it was just a matter of getting out alive.
As Lyall scanned the yard, something bright caught his eye through the smoke and flames. A fall of red hair, disappearing into a small, thatch-covered building at the far end of the yard. Its roof was not aflame, as yet. He grabbed Owen by the arm.
‘Get what men you can to douse the flames. Some buildings are lost but we must stop the other fires. We need this castle and its occupants in one piece, and Owen, if you find any prisoners, take them to a safe place, especially the women.
***