The song which rose from the ranks was feeble, and Tynian insisted that the soldiers start again – several times – until the full-throated bawling of the column satisfied his need for a display of martial enthusiasm.
‘You’re a cruel sort of fellow, Tynian,’ Ulath noted.
‘I know,’ Tynian agreed.
Sephrenia’s reaction to the news of the failed attack by the disguised Rendor was almost one of indifference. ‘You’re sure you saw the shadow behind the Archprelate’s throne just before the attack?’ she asked Sparhawk.
He nodded.
‘Our hypothesis still seems quite valid then.’ She said it almost with satisfaction. She looked at the small, poison-smeared dagger lying on the table between them. ‘Hardly the sort of thing you’d want to use against an armoured man,’ she observed.
‘A scratch would have done the trick, little mother.’
‘How could he have scratched you when you were wrapped in steel?’
‘He tried to stab me in the face, Sephrenia.’
‘Keep your visor closed then.’
‘Won’t that look a little ridiculous?’
‘Which do you prefer? Ridiculous or dead? Did any of our friends see the attempt?’
‘Kalten did – or at least he knew that it happened.’
She frowned. ‘I was hoping that we could sort of keep this between ourselves – at least until we know what’s going on.’
‘Kalten knows that someone’s been trying to kill me – they all do, for that matter. They all think it’s just Martel and that he’s up to his usual tricks.’
‘Let’s sort of leave it at that then, shall we?’
‘There have been some desertions, My Lord,’ Kalten reported to Vanion as the group gathered on the steps of the Basilica. ‘There was no way we could keep word of what we were doing from reaching some of those outlying barracks.’
‘It was to be expected,’ Vanion said. ‘Did anybody happen to look over the outer wall to see what Martel’s doing?’
‘Berit’s been keeping an eye on things, My Lord,’ Kalten replied. ‘That boy’s going to make an awfully good Pandion. We ought to try to keep him alive if we can. Anyway, he reports that Martel’s almost completed his deployment. He could probably give the order to march on the city now. I’m surprised that he hasn’t, really. I’m sure some of Annias’s toadies have reached him by now to report what happened in the Basilica this morning. Every moment he delays just gives us more time to get ready for him.’
‘Greed, Kalten,’ Sparhawk told his friend. ‘Martel’s very greedy, and he can’t believe that his greed’s not universal. He thinks we’ll try to defend the whole of Chyrellos, and he wants to give us time to get spread so thin that he’ll be able to walk over us. He’d never be able to bring himself to believe that we’d abandon the outer city and concentrate on defending the inner walls.’
‘I suspect that many of my brother Patriarchs feel much the same way,’ Emban said. ‘The voting might have been much tighter if those of them with palaces in the outer city had been aware of the fact that we’re going to abandon their houses to Martel.’
Komier and Ulath came up the marble steps to join them. ‘We’re going to have to pull down some houses just outside the walls,’ Komier said. ‘Those are Lamorks to the north of the city, and Lamorks use crossbows. We don’t want any rooftops out there for them to shoot at us from.’ The Genidian Preceptor paused. ‘I’m not very experienced at sieges,’ he admitted. ‘What kind of engines is this Martel likely to bring against us?’
‘Battering rams,’ Abriel told him, ‘catapults, assault towers.’
‘What’s an assault tower?’
‘It’s a sort of high structure. They roll it up until it’s flush against the wall. Then the soldiers come spilling out right in the middle of us. It’s a way to cut down on the sort of casualties they’ll take with scaling ladders.’
‘Roll?’ Komier asked.
‘The towers are on wheels.’
Komier grunted. ‘We’ll leave the rubble from the houses we pull down lying in the streets then. Wheels don’t run too well across piles of building blocks.’
Berit came galloping into the broad square and along the quickly opened path through the ranks of the church soldiers massed in front of the Basilica. He leapt from his saddle and ran up the stairs. ‘My Lords,’ he said a little breathlessly, ‘Martel’s men are beginning to assemble their siege engines.’
‘Will someone explain that to me?’ Komier asked.
‘The engines are transported in pieces, Komier,’ Abriel told him. ‘When you get to the place where you’re going to fight, you have to put them together.’
‘How long’s that likely to take? You Arcians are the experts on castles and sieges.’
‘Quite a few hours, Komier. The mangonels will take longer. He’ll have to construct those here.’
‘What’s a mangonel?’
‘It’s a sort of oversized catapult. It’s too big to transport – even if you break it down. They use whole trees when they build them.’
‘How big a rock can it throw?’
‘A half-ton or so.’
‘The walls won’t take too many of those.’
‘That’s sort of the idea, I think. He’ll be using the standard catapults at first, though. The mangonels will probably take at least a week to build.’
‘The catapults and battering rams and towers should keep us occupied until then, I suppose,’ Komier said sourly. ‘I hate sieges.’ Then he shrugged. ‘We’d better get at it.’ He looked disdainfully at the church soldiers. ‘Let’s set these enthusiastic volunteers to work tearing down houses and cluttering up the streets.’
At some point not long after dark, some of Martel’s scouts discovered that the outer walls of Chyrellos were undefended. A few of them, the stupider ones, reported back. For the most part, however, these scouts proved to be the vanguard of the looters. An hour or so before midnight Berit woke Sparhawk and Kalten to report that there were troops in the outer city. Then he turned to leave again.
‘Where are you going?’ Sparhawk asked bluntly.
‘Back out there, Sir Sparhawk.’
‘No you’re not. You stay inside the inner walls now. I don’t want you getting yourself killed.’