The Doomsday Code

CHAPTER 79

1194, Nottingham

Liam had managed to work his way up beside Bob again, armed with another shield and this time an axe; both home-made by some artisan blacksmith. In between ferocious swings, he’d managed to tap Bob on the shoulder and let him know he was right there and watching his flank.

In front of Bob the descending slope of rubble of the collapsed section of wall was covered in a thick carpet of mangled bodies, bludgeoned and cleaved by his swooping axe blade. Either side of them stood the defenders, now mostly the citizens of Nottingham, dotted with one or two dozen remaining men of the garrison, in their burgundy and amber tunics.

The attackers’ momentum seemed to have been stalled for the moment; the front rank of men decorated with the colours of a dozen different coats of arms began to slowly recede down the ever more cumbersome and slippery mound that led up to the breach.

Liam allowed himself a hope that the attack had faltered, that the men of Richard’s gathered army had lost heart already. But it was soon obvious that the men had been summoned by the distant call of a horn. They were retreating to take a water break.

He found himself laughing, almost hysterically.

Bob glanced at him over his shoulder. ‘What is funny?’

‘It’s like half-time at a peil Ghaelach match,’ snorted Liam. The flitting of arrows overhead ceased as if archers on both sides had agreed to a temporary truce.

He could see women and children with buckets slung on yokes over their shoulders moved swiftly among the ranks of Richard’s men as they dipped their helmets and grubby hands in and scooped and sloshed much-needed water into their mouths and on to their faces.

From behind Liam women also emerged from the market square with buckets and hides full of water, which the fighting men eagerly sipped and poured over their heads.

Of course it made sense to him. He realized how desperately hot he was under the leather and mail and, of course, he’d only fought briefly. Water, and an agreed break in the hostilities during which it could be distributed, was as much a part of the twelfth-century battlefield as anything else.

‘Bob,’ he said, rapping his knuckles on his back, ‘there’s water, you should get some while you can.’

Bob turned round. For the first time Liam saw the front of the shield strapped to the stump of his left arm. ‘Jay-zus, Bob — you seen that?’ The shield bristled arrows like a hairbrush. The enemy archers had been deliberately targeting him.

Several other arrows protruded from the front of his chest.

‘Oh boy … you need to get some of this seen to.’

‘The damage at this stage is acceptable, Liam,’ grunted Bob. ‘I am still at fifty-five per cent functioning capacity.’ His fat lips spread. ‘But you are correct … I could do with some water.’

Along with the other men, they took their turn scooping cooling handfuls of water out of the buckets being passed up to them, and it was as Bob was glugging water like a thirsty dog after a long walk that Liam heard a muted cheer rippling through the crowd gathered in the market square.

He saw bodies part respectfully and then finally, stepping on to the bottom of the mound of broken masonry, he recognized John, in heavy mail, holding a shield bearing the royal crest.

‘Sire!’ he called out.

John slowly picked his way up towards him. ‘Sheriff,’ he finally replied, winded from the exertion. He gathered his breath before speaking again. ‘’Tis hard enough walking in this, let alone climbing.’

The men of the garrison standing nearby, respectfully dropped to their knees.

‘Oh, stop that!’ barked John with his best go at heroic bravado. ‘Save what you have left for the fighting, men.’

‘Sire,’ said Liam, ‘you’ll be a target, so you will.’

He could see how pale John looked, trembling inside his mail.

‘Then,’ said John, running a tongue along his dry lips, ‘then I shall just have to keep moving, won’t I?’

A distant horn sounded again and Liam saw the women and children moving among Richard’s men scramble at double speed away from the front line towards the tents and marquees on the hillside in front of them. Almost immediately the flitting of dark arrows resumed, peppering the clear sky, and the men fifty yards away reformed their lines in preparation for the renewed assault on Nottingham.