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“Careful, not down there, past this line. That’s where the ground gave way. But from here, if you hold fast to these trees as an anchor, you’ll be safe.”
“God have mercy.” Liutgard had a hand hooked around the bole of a young ash and her feet fixed in the dirt. At the base of the slide, trees of every age and size had smashed into each other, some splintering and the biggest ones crushing the smaller beneath.
“See here, now,” said the sergeant. “There is Kassel. Even from this distance, you can see what damage the autumn storm did her.”
The town of Kassel lay at the foot of the low, isolated hill—more a bulge in the landscape—on which the palace and tower had been erected. The town was laid out in a square with two avenues set perpendicular to each other, dividing the habitation into four even quarters. An old wall, reasonably kept up, surrounded it, but it was obvious from this height that the town had long ago been larger and more densely populated. There was room within those old walls for vegetable gardens and an orchard as well as some pasture for cows, and although in the main part of the town houses clustered one up against the next near the inner gate that admitted folk to the palace hill, along the outer spaces many houses boasted a big fenced-in garden. Old paths and house foundations marked abandoned homes. Middens grew where once folk had lived up against the town wall. There were signs—hard to discern from this distance—that many halls and houses had lost roofs or had their walls smashed by falling timber. The only sign of scaffolding and repair lay along the town wall and up on the tower rise, where a steeply-pitched roof gaped, half covered by canvas.
“Did the damage from the autumn storm spread so far?” Liutgard demanded. “Did they not plant the fields this spring?”
The fields beyond Kassel’s walls should have been green with early summer crops, but they had the reddish-brown stain of highland clay exposed to rain and wind.
“They did, my lady, rye and barley, as is customary. Even a few oats. But those men from Varre did trample the fields. See, there.” He waved a hand but he could have been waving at anything. “We heard that they confiscated the grain stores and even burned some, but that last I just can’t believe.”
Sanglant’s gaze had drifted back to the palace and tower on the hill. From this height, he could discern the footprints of more ancient structures where the newer buildings of the wooden palace and stone donjon overlapped the mark of ancient walls. Long ago a Dariyan outpost had stood here and before that a yet more ancient holding constructed with huge stones set in place, so the legend told, by daimones of the upper air. The Dariyans had worked with dressed stone blocks, so Heribert had instructed him, and it was easy to imagine a workforce of men hauling such manageable material up an incline. But massive stones could as easily have flown as been hauled, even on rollers; the story of the daimones building them with magic made as much sense as any other.
“Hoping for a miracle, some folk hung out the feast day streamers when first day of summer dawned,” said the old sergeant.
“I can’t make them out from here,” said Liutgard. She looked at Sanglant. “How do we win back my city?”
He surveyed the valley of Kassel. On the east the steep rise of hills made a natural barrier, which had been breached in Dariyan times with a massive ramp constructed of rubble and faced with stone. “There the Hellweg emerges from the forest,” he said, pointing to a scar in the forest cover where the ridge edge dipped lowest. “We’ll be easily visible as we descend the ramp. There is no other reasonable route down into the valley. So if we ride straight in, they will certainly know in advance that we are coming. Sergeant, how many men hold the palace?”
“Perhaps a hundred.”
“Even with the men we have, we’ll be hard put to take the tower in a frontal attack,” said Liutgard. “It’s built to withstand a siege.”
“Yet if we wait for the rest of the Varren army to come up, we’ll find ourselves caught between the enemy at the heart of the town and that which surrounds us from without. I do not like to think of setting a siege only to be besieged myself. Is there some other way into the tower, Sergeant? A river gate? A crawling space where a small group of men can creep in to surprise the defenders?”
“Nay, Your Majesty. Not even a servant’s gate.”
Liutgard smiled thinly. “There is no traitor’s gate, Cousin. My great-uncle Eberhard—the very one who gave up his claim to the throne in favor of the first Henry—had that tower built. He didn’t trust his enemies.”
“Or his allies, no doubt, who might wonder if he would take up arms against the new king. Well, then, we cannot sneak a contingent inside and open up the gates to let the rest of us through. Sergeant, have you any signals by which you communicate with your allies inside? Could any person be persuaded to open up the tower gates at a prearranged signal?”
The sergeant considered. “Folk in the town we can have some speech with, but there’s a heavy guard at the town gate. As for those in the tower, there’s none go in and out except the enemy.”
Sanglant frowned. “If only we had Eagle’s Sight, we could arrange our attack as we did at Walburg. Well, never mind it now. That avenue is closed to us. Can you smuggle in a score of men to assault the town gate and open it to us?”
“One or two at a time. It would take several days to manage it without being caught. But if we’re caught, the enemy will know aught is afoot.”
“And we haven’t several days. So be it. I’m of a mind to try a parley.”
“What of Ermengard?” asked the duchess. “I would gladly ransom myself for her.”
“They’ll not take you. If I hold Ermengard, I can sacrifice you and set your daughter in place with a regent. If they hold Ermengard, they hold your heir. I think they would rather have her than you, Liutgard. Still, it might be worth offering, to see what manner of men hold the tower.”
They returned to the troop and continued down the trail, returning at length to the main route of the Hellweg lower down. When at length the road broke free of the forest, they had a breathtaking view of the valley and the immense ramp down which they must ride. A sentry standing watch on the high tower walk would easily spot the banners of Fesse, Wendar, and the black dragon on the height. He nodded at Fulk, and the captain commanded the soldiers forward, down into the valley. The ramp was amazingly solid, although its slopes had, over the years, grown a carpet of low ground cover and fragile grasses.
o;They did, my lady, rye and barley, as is customary. Even a few oats. But those men from Varre did trample the fields. See, there.” He waved a hand but he could have been waving at anything. “We heard that they confiscated the grain stores and even burned some, but that last I just can’t believe.”
Sanglant’s gaze had drifted back to the palace and tower on the hill. From this height, he could discern the footprints of more ancient structures where the newer buildings of the wooden palace and stone donjon overlapped the mark of ancient walls. Long ago a Dariyan outpost had stood here and before that a yet more ancient holding constructed with huge stones set in place, so the legend told, by daimones of the upper air. The Dariyans had worked with dressed stone blocks, so Heribert had instructed him, and it was easy to imagine a workforce of men hauling such manageable material up an incline. But massive stones could as easily have flown as been hauled, even on rollers; the story of the daimones building them with magic made as much sense as any other.
“Hoping for a miracle, some folk hung out the feast day streamers when first day of summer dawned,” said the old sergeant.
“I can’t make them out from here,” said Liutgard. She looked at Sanglant. “How do we win back my city?”
He surveyed the valley of Kassel. On the east the steep rise of hills made a natural barrier, which had been breached in Dariyan times with a massive ramp constructed of rubble and faced with stone. “There the Hellweg emerges from the forest,” he said, pointing to a scar in the forest cover where the ridge edge dipped lowest. “We’ll be easily visible as we descend the ramp. There is no other reasonable route down into the valley. So if we ride straight in, they will certainly know in advance that we are coming. Sergeant, how many men hold the palace?”
“Perhaps a hundred.”
