Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 22 - Merlin's Sacrifice

Those manning the ballistae frantically worked the machines to rewind and re-arm them, Merlin capering gleefully and howling in maniacal fury at the Saxons. As four points of the front line advance dipped in response to the men taken down by the ballistae, Gawain and his party suddenly appeared to the west, raking down the flanks of the Saxon forces, light horse bows sending a wave of arrows into the soldiers who hastily raised shields in defence as the horsemen galloped away, wary of the few mounted Saxon warriors who immediately chased after them.

Another arcing wave of destruction punched through the front rank as the ballistae strings released the second round of pent-up tension, flinging steel-tipped death at the enemy. A roar of rage and defiance came from the opposing forces.

"Death!" came the distant cry, and the Saxons moved forwards at a fast walk, shields held high as they closed on the fort, hoping to reduce the numbers of the fallen by speeding up the attack and keeping their defences high.

Merlin stopped capering and sank to his haunches in the dry grass.

"Grayle, Morholt!" shouted Mark. "Fire at will, keep those ballistae crews working. My Queen!" Guinevere poked her head over the turret wall and nodded. She looked back into the courtyard at the main group of archers, who stood with their bows ready.

"Are you ready?" As one, the group nodded and raised their bows, aiming up and over the walls. They had been practising for weeks and, after realising their Queen was an archer of some skill, had happily accepted her as their commander. "Aim for maximum distance," she shouted.

"What the hell is Merlin doing?" questioned Mark.

Arthur grinned at him, replying with relish. "Things are about to get a little hot for Hengist."

Merlin abruptly straightened up and ran as fast as his skinny legs would carry him towards the fort, a small tendril of smoke marking the place where he had stood.

"The old devil," smiled Mark.

"Luck was on our side this morning when the wind changed, Merlin prepared a line of dry grass and tinder materials before the Saxons arrived." They watched the old man moving with a speed that belied his age towards the fortifications.

"Joss! Get a rope over the wall for Merlin please," ordered Mark.

The defenders watched as the near smokeless fire took instantly in the tinder-dry grass, the line of prepared dry materials catching quickly and spreading the fire at a ferocious speed, driven by the wind towards the Saxon forces.

Guinevere, with Iseult next to her, watched the approaching men, her smaller bow useless until the Saxons came closer, the mass of longbows behind her more suited to the task at hand.

"Take aim!" she shouted, still watching the fast approaching mass of men. As the lead warriors passed the mark she had memorised, she turned and shouted a command at the men. "Loose! Fire at will. Be ready to change distance."

Like a swarm of angry hornets, a flight of arrows flew high into the sky, arching over the front wall of the camp. Arthur and the other defenders watched in grim satisfaction as the front rank was mown down like wheat before a scythe, the attack stalling as warriors fell over the dying and wounded. The well-practiced archers soon got into their rhythm and sent wave after wave of arrows over the walls.

"Keep going!" shouted a Saxon commander, and men picked up fallen colleagues, or left them to be trampled underfoot.

Abruptly, roars of anger and rage from the Saxons turned to terror as the smokeless wall of heat moved inexorably towards the opposing forces. Chaos ensued as the front lines tried to withdraw, whilst those behind them were still being urged forwards by their leaders. Gawain's mounted archers raked repeatedly down the western side of the battle lines, and Guinevere's archers continued to pepper the now-stalled troops with arrows, the ballistae teams working in a frenzy on the towers.