Dark Age Woman

The battle begins

However the tiny soldiers with their conical helmets remained far from the walls. They stayed out of bowshot range. Nervously, the citizens of Nice and those in charge of the resistance watched the buildup of manpower on the plain. Those who watched from the towers and from the ramparts witnessed the size of the force facing them, a force numbering thousands. Yet so far, nothing could be seen showing that an attack was imminent.

The Saracens were keeping their distance. None of them could easily be felled by an arrow or even by a bolt from a crossbow. Behind the enemy tents that were being erected, those watching could see the war machines being put in position and assembled. Uberto, Guy and Wotano had at first watched everything from the virtually impregnable south of the walled town, but as the enemy moved to the north they also moved along the parapet to follow their activities. They passed many people standing on lookout or huddled around cauldrons of hot oil, boiling water and other toxic substances from the kitchen that were kept bubbling by hot ashes continuously sustained with added firewood. .

The day wore on, and the sun slipped under the horizon leaving a glowing red sky. It soon disappeared, leaving darkness illuminated by fires of the enemy below and the cauldrons above. So far, no attack, and all those milling around behind the strong walls of the fortified town wondered when it would come.

Chapter Eighteen

Angela looked at the kettle of boiling water. It was more than warm enough to use on her patient, Brother Paul, whose wounds needed bathing. Taking some in a bowl along with some centaury powder, which she mixed into the water, she went to attend to him.

Angela noticed how everyone was excited and she fully knew the reason. The Saracens were coming. To an extent, she blamed herself, for trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went. Yet Oriana was teaching her the ways of medicine and Talia was always encouraging to her. They seemed to have more faith in her than she had in herself.

It was late, and Oriana had already gone to bed. A single candle provided the only light. Talia watched Angela as she took warm water from where it had been heating at the fireplace. She saw her mix in some tumeric, a healing substance. She knew already what Angela was going to do—take it to Brother Paul to bathe his wounds. Angela looked up at her before leaving for the adjacent room. "Go and attend to him, Angela, and when you come back we must talk."

Angela returned, set the small kettle on the stand and, head bent, stood in front of Talia. "Sit down, Angela. Sit down." Angela took a seat, but still held her head down, avoiding eye contact. "Angela, would you please look at me?" The girl raised her eyes in her direction.

"You know, of course, that at the present moment Nice is surrounded by Muslim soldiers?"

"I am sorry," she tersely answered.

By this time, Talia was used to trying to talk to Angela. She knew that somehow the girl tended to blame things on herself. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Angela. Their coming here has nothing at all to do with you. But, because they are here we need to be ready."

Angela raised her head to say, "I understand."

"There will be a battle and many people, both soldiers and civilians will die. We must do what we can to help those who are injured. Angela, it is likely that even the larger apartment will be filled with the wounded. We may very well have to care for people in the hall. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"You have already learned much, Angela, and I am glad you will be able to assist us. Listen to Oriana and to me. We will likely have to work fast, and despite our best efforts many may die. Do not blame yourself for that. We gain nothing by mourning, only by carrying for those who we may be able to save." Talia stood up and put an arm around the slighter woman, ending by patting her on the shoulder. "Try to get some sleep, girl. We don't know how much rest we will have tonight."

* * *

Along the parapet not far from the heavily buttressed gate Uberto and Coco kept watch. They were part of the second guard, those who at this time would be the first alert in an attack. Besides those specifically assigned to guard duty, Dozens of citizens manned the hot cauldrons and ladder poles to fight off an assault. Before leaving his apartment, Uberto was glad to have already won a minor battle with his intrepid wife, Carina, telling her she had no reason to be along the wall, exposing herself to a very possible onslaught of enemy arrows.

Now, except for softly spoken words, all was quiet. A three-quarter full moon was rising in the east, beginning to show glimpses of the enemy troops and behind them their war tents. Uberto looked out at them, wondering what kind of people would send fighting men to the far side of the Mediterranean in a quest for the spoils of war. He had heard of their God, "Allah" but could not conceive of and certainly could not worship a God whose converts came by means of the sword. Placing his hand on the butt of his sword, he vowed to his God that he would fight this scourge to the end.

Suddenly, a hail of hundreds of flaming arrows rose from the ground, arching up and over the walls and dropping everywhere. Instinctively, Uberto and Coco raised their shields over their heads, but many civilians had no shields and were struck. Screams of the wounded came from many different directions and some of the houses began to blaze. The townspeople were ready with water to throw on the fires, but the arrows kept coming and those at the pumps worked feverishly to keep them supplied.

Uberto was alert for what might come next—scaling the walls with long ladders. He turned around, seeing a flash of light. Coco was on fire! Fear filled Coco's eyes. A flaming arrow was stuck in the thick cowhide armor of his chest. Quickly, Uberto extinguished the blaze with a gloved hand, and then looked at Coco. Coco began smiling, and then pulled off his armor. The arrow lodged there had just penetrated through the thick hide. "Good I thin," said Coco, a grin on his face.

"Thank God!" said Uberto, giving the man a quick hug.

When finally the barrage of arrows ended, Carina hurriedly stepped out of her apartment and ran down the stairs to the outside. Fires were still burning to her right and left, but teams of people handled buckets of water to try to put out the blazes. Frantically, she rushed along the ramparts, dodging people and hearing the screams of those who had already found their loved ones—dead. She asked those she knew, "Have you seen him? Have you seen Uberto? At last, someone pointed toward the high wall, telling her,

"He's over there!"

She rushed in that direction and found herself standing in front of him. Joyfully, she tightly embraced him. "Uberto, Uberto, thank God you are alright!"

Uberto returned her hug with gusto saying, "I am fine but Patrizio has taken an arrow."

Carina had not even noticed the man lying on the ground close to the parapet. Looking down at him, she uttered, "Patrizio!" She saw an arrow lodged in his buttocks.

            "I am fortunate, compared to others, but the thing is painful and rather embarrassing sticking there," said Patrizio, in a quiet, strained voice.

"We must get him to Oriana," said Uberto. "She will know best how to remove the shaft."

"Yes, Yes," Carina answered. "I can help."

"Coco and I will carry him. He also was struck, but fortunately, the arrow did not penetrate far through his amour. Let's take him immediately to Oriana. You stay on the side where the arrow is so that no one bumps into it along the way."

The three of them made their way through the knights on guard and all the townspeople not putting out fires who mingled, talking about the attack, ready for the next one.