The Eagle’s Flight - Chapter 241: The Prized City

The counterweight was released. The arm of the stone thrower swung with terrible force, releasing a boulder. It flew across the air to strike the wall of the city, causing stone to crumble. With groans, the soldiers pulled the arm back, raising the counterweight into the air, before it became locked in place. Another projectile was dragged over and placed into the pouch.

The prince watched his siege machinery bombard the city. They had done so for weeks, resuming the pattern of daily attacks and nightly rebuilds. As a voice called out, he turned his head towards the sound.

“Your Highness,” Adherbal spoke, approaching his master.

“What is it?”

“The northerners have sent a request. Their envoy wishes to speak with you again.”

“Denied. There will be no truce, no exchange of prisoners, nothing until the city falls,” the prince declared.

“Very well. I shall tell the messenger of your decision,” replied the aide.

“Have the ships returned yet?”

“No, sidi. I shall let you know as soon as the patrol returns.”

The prince hesitated as he spoke again. “How many shipments will we need if the siege is to last through winter?”

“Several, sidi. Our provisions right now will only last the next few months. I can give you the numbers once I am back in your tent.”

“Any word from our spies in the great city?”

“Nothing new since last, sidi. The king has marched north to deal with his vassal.”

Saif sighed. “At least if he stays there, we might still win this siege.” He turned to look from the city at his aide. “Go and make your calculations. I will be with you soon.”

~~~~

At all times, a large number of mercenaries stood watch throughout the siege camp, which by now spread across a vast area. Besides a long line of defences to protect the siege engines against sorties from the city, the southerners also had to guard against raids made by Belvoir’s forces, who avoided large engagements and sought out minor skirmishes instead. Finally, several thousand soldiers manned the many ships that blockaded Herbergja and transported supplies from further south.

Still, this left more than half the mercenaries idle at any given time. They passed the hours as soldiers always did, gambling coin, sharing tales, and eating when the opportunity presented itself. Throughout the camp, plenty of small gatherings could be seen, usually around a pot boiling water for soup, tea, or the like.

“You think the ships will bring us anything other than grain?” asked a soldier at one such gathering. “I’m tired of bread.”

“I’d pay good silver for a slice of meat,” another admitted.

“Let’s see if the ships arrive first,” came a gloomy voice. Its owner scratched the scar on his forehead. “The island savages are not to be underestimated. If they see an opportunity, they’ll take our ships and kill every man aboard.”

“Come now.” Filling his cup with hot water from the pot with one hand, the speaker used the other to slap his gloomy companion on the shoulder. “Have you seen their ships? They may be long, but they can’t have half as many soldiers onboard as our galleys.”

“That won’t help if they got three times as many ships,” argued the scarred man.

“They don’t. If they had that many, they’d just attack and sink our whole fleet.”

“They don’t in total numbers, sure. But their ships are faster than ours. They’ll choose when to attack, and no amount of drum beating will save our galleys,” came the claim.

“Don’t pay him any heed, he’s always predicting doom.”

“I’ve not even begun,” the scarred soldier protested.

“Great, you got him started.”

“You heard about the northern king? He’s never lost a battle, even against armies twice the size. And we’re attacking his prized city.” The morose warrior sent challenging looks in every direction, daring them to gainsay him.

The others quickly obliged. “He’s far to the east, fighting another war, I heard.”

“Yeah, he’s months away from us. We’ll have the city soon enough.”

“And then we’ll eat our fill and stuff our sacks with gold!”

A shake of head initiated the reply. “We’ll face winter soon, with the city on one side, hostile ships on the other, and an army to the east. It’s us that’s under siege.” He scratched his scar again.

“If that’s how you feel, why don’t you sod off in that direction?” A finger pointed towards Herbergja.

He shrugged. “They wouldn’t pay me, would they.”

~~~~

In his tent, Saif stood bent over a map of the area lying on the table. It was highly detailed and clearly made by skilled hands. Creases and smudge showed it had been long in use, even before the army of Alcázar arrived to begin the siege. Strips of parchment lay scattered around the map as well, containing numbers. Some described his soldiers, divided by the mercenary companies along with his own mamluks; the other strips lay on the city, to the east, or in the water, giving an estimate of enemy troops.

Staring at the map, Saif moved the pieces of parchment around, arranging them for an assault on Herbergja. His hand wavered between land and sea, choosing how many to commit to the different locations.

His thoughts were interrupted by his aide, entering the tent with quick steps. “The ships have returned, sidi.”

“And?”

“No sign of Mearcian ships.”

“Four days in a row. What would be your guess as to the reason?”

“If we are fortunate, trouble on the islands. But I doubt it,” Adherbal admitted.

“What then?”

“They might feel bold enough to attack our fleet. Or, given our troops are concentrated here, they might attempt to retake Portesur.”

Saif stroked his beard with a pensive expression. “If we must trade one city for another, so be it.”

“I would agree.”

“Tell the captains to prepare, and keep our ships here. Once we have breached the eastern wall, we make our assault.”

“Yes, sidi.”

“We finish this before winter.”

“As you say, sidi.”