Chapter 3: CHAPTER II, ALDUS OF CLIFFORD
The outskirts of Carris had fallen.
Flames swirled around the buildings of the flea market and the suburbs, and grey layers of thick smoke rose and danced playfully in the air, suggesting the places being plundered and sacked by the enemy soldiers thirsty for vengeance against the defiance of his Carris garrison, which had withstood a one-week siege since the Frenian host under Sean de Ardeu's command had arrived to seize the city. Dozens of flames were licking at the glacis of the Star fort he now held, the work of the Frenian cannon bombardment. Shreds of earth were being torn off upon the impact with the cannonballs and a few soldiers fell. A score of musketeers stepped in their place and the defenders fired a round of volley against the besiegers. The barrels of the musket flickered and spat flames continuously towards the enemy like fireflies in the night. Instead, the siege was chosen to take place during daytime and the battlefield was engulfed in white mists of smoke that severely hindered Aldus' vision to spectate the situation.
Fierce exchanges of volley rounds soon took its course. The field guns of Aldus were firing one after one, launching projectiles to devastate the enemy redoubts near the approaches. The retaliation came soon enough, as enemy cannonballs slammed fast and hard into the glacis, knocking of men in the vicinity. Grunts and groans could be heard clearly from the distance as physicians were dispatched to tend the wounded, carried away by their present comrades on the defenses.
Aldus could sense the uneasiness of the Captain, his name Griffin Johnson, standing by him, as well observing the battlefield. He did not need to wait to understand his reason. The besieging Frenians had previously managed to set the households within the Starfort ablaze, therefore agitating the mob to launch an uprising against the garrison. Aldus had to muster a great portion of the men he commanded to halt the riots and put the folks to rest. But as he was calming the citizens, the Frenians attempted to take Carris by storm using their superior numbers, and it took a third of the garrison, that was, one thousand men, to plunge into the gaps and bar the gates to prevent the Frenian cavalry from charging into the city after a failed sortie led by an incompetent general.
"General Clifford," a despaired Johnson realized Aldus' presence and addressed him respectfully, "the enemy had attempted to storm us five times, to no avail, but the morale of our men is declining and the lack of ammunition had prevented them from performing extensive defenses. The first ring of defenses would soon collapse if the enemy launches another charge, and I fear the situation would look ever grim for us then."
"Let's discuss regarding the mob, a more pleasant subject, as I hope, then." Aldus replied with cool courtesy, "what is their attitude towards the foreign intruders?"
"They were most likely to force us to negotiate with the enemy any time soon as long as they were offered an opportunity to," the captain replied bitterly, "I led two hundred men into restoring the order of the city. Now only some eighty men remained. The rest either deserted join seeing their fellow civilians or were slaughtered in mass riots. Muskets were ill-suited for the environment of a city. My men were very inefficient in urban combats."
"That was most pitiful," Aldus replied. He was not at all surprised that the mob was so hostile towards the soldiers. The army he led had just captured the city of Carris through storm several months ago, and his soldiers committed several misconducts, which he was wont to encourage to gain the support of the units. However their actions buried a certain hatred deep in the civilians' hearts, and no matter how Aldus attempted to soften their hostility, the seeds of despise remained. Now they had developed into an almost full-grown tree, it's fruits ripe for the taking.
Whatever units Aldus conscripted to maintain order within the city were chosen from the folks. Young, able men they were, but also highly undisciplined and with their loyalty in great doubt, the General did not dare to let them receive actual training and fight alongside the besieged soldiers for fear that the locals might perform an uprising and overwhelm the garrison units with their significant numerical superiority.
But the situation was dire. And it was growing ever bleak as days passed, and their supplies dwindled. Letters were dispatched to the Homeland, requesting for reinforcements or a fleet to break the blockade of the city imposed by the Frenians, however the Homeland had been silent so far. Aldus wondered if the message ever reached before the eyes of the King of the Homelands, having considered the almost impregnable blockade the Frenians established along the coast. Some careless loose of crossbow fire would have shot the unfortunate messenger bird down, Aldus did not doubt, and the Frenian fleet had no lack of sharpshooters that might desire to have a slice of roasted pigeon meat as a treat for their long and unfavored onboard duties.
"The enemy had yet unleashed their full strength," mentioned Johnson, "nor had they taken advantage of the rebellious and revolting mobs. It would be the end of us should they exploit this situation. Our numbers too few and them too many, a part of that owing to the previously failed sorties."
"Indeed, I have not failed to note," replied Aldus, "I've believed the enemy General Sean to be a cautious tactician. He would strengthen his defenses on the outer siege ring before moving upon us to prevent our relief force from breaking through to lift his siege. He would have expected that we use this opportunity to better our fortifications, and so he sent some minor force to harass our progress in a moment, and kept his guns active to hinder our construction as well as weaken, if not silent our retaliation."
"Will this Sean get frustrated with our unyielding natures or fear that a mighty flanking from the rear, performed by a larger host than his, such that he would abandon his siege progress and depart for another target?" Questioned Johnson carefully but not hopelessly.
No, you fool. "If the Crowns of Homeland could muster a larger force then his...then maybe Sean would reconsider his actions," to not be cruel, Aldus marked an uncertain reply, but enough to satisfy Johnson and keep his hope intact, "we would also require to perform our duty and give Sean and his men a good opening, to kick start the show, however. And the strategic value of this city was unlikely to make Sean abandon his campaigns against us. Whoever controls the port of Carris controls the dominance of the Sea Within the Lands, it is commonly phrased."
"Sean had been disrupting our progress regularly," Johnson sounded disheartened, "it might take a lot of effort to strengthen our might, and the costs would be too high."
"Indeed. His tactics proved to be largely successful," Aldus commented with a praise, "and now Sean is safely taking rest within his camps while we are doomed to waste away on the fortress walls, thick but not impregnable, and accomplished almost nothing beneficial over the weeks." He gave a laughter of despair.
Johnson opened his mouth to make a reply, but it was suddenly interrupted by a loud explosion behind where he stood. Aldus turned, only to witness to his horror that the town in front of him had been set ablaze by enemy cannon fire. The folks were rushing out of their households, pitchforks and sickles and shovels in hand, cursing as the furnace wind blew straight into their faces, demanding that the siege be stopped, a polite phrase to force Aldus and his men to yield the city, however he would not consent. From above he could observe that the mob was rushing into the streets and plundering the market and shops. Women were thrown onto the group where they were consumed by the anger-driven civilians while those who attempted to protect their property were annihilated, their bodies poked and penetrated multiple times before being hacked into pieces. He observed that when a woman, big with child, attempted to struggle free of a ragged farmer who had grasped her wrist to perform undesired activities, the man banished a scythe from his back and split the woman into half with a single downstroke. Chaos ensued, and men and women alike began to fight against the garrison, demanding that they be let out of the city and Aldus surrender to his hopeless cause.
Aldus would have none of it. "Johnson," he asked, "how many spearman and pikemen do you currently command at present?"
"Why, I got one hundred spears and half a hundred pikes," replied Johnson. It was not before he realized Aldus' intention, and judged him with an unwilling face. "The mobs were there by thousands," he deduced, "it would be a bloody struggle."
"Attempt to make it least bloodily for us, then. It would be not a too difficult task." Aldus half-jested. As he watched Johnson departed solemnly for his task, he could stop feeling worried about the situation. With the recently sieges growing ever fierce, the unrest among the mob was clear for everyone to see, now an almost boiling hot pot of water wanting to break its container. Reinforcements from the homeland would have to arrive. If not, a few supply ships could be good to raise morale and soften the mob. But now as the smoke in the air grew thick and irritated his nose, the terrified screams and shouts of the civilians as steel clashed and blood spilled, the flames in the outskirts dancing and swirling a deadly beauty, Aldus had not been too optimistic of the eventual outcome. He could only hope that Johnson would efficiently suppress the riots and still have sufficient men led back to defend the besieging army, but that thought seemed a luxury as well, considered that if he was to bet between a poor size of well-trainee soldiers against a massive crowd of furious armed peasants, his purse would be on the mob. Despite the odds, Aldus was glad, almost overjoyed to see that Johnson accomplished his task dutifully, and by dawn he and his petty army marched for the walls again, leaving behind a pile of corpses on the burning streets to rot.
This was when the enemy fired another round of volley. The cannonballs swept across the field like meteorites, fast-moving shades of shadow. They were met with the unyielding curtain walls of the fortress. Bricks of stones collapsed and fell from the structures upon the impact, and men stumbled on their feet, losing their balance and flung off their positions where they met the end of their fate on the grounds below. Other suffered gun wounds, light or heavy. Injured soldiers were clutching onto their shot stomachs and laboring at every forced breath, every breath desperate to cling onto life, but the strength would soon fail them, for some were turning as pale as a maiden sheet of paper. Aldus could as well observe scores of men laying idle on the grounds, their wounds flittering with flesh-devouring flies and maggots. He frowned upon such unappealing sight and stepped over the corpses with great care to avoid bringing disgust upon himself.
Then he heard thunders from the enemy lines. Thunders of war cries, drums, and horns. The infamously strong and brutal Frenian Calvary began to trot towards his defenses in tight formations as their horses shrieked and kicked. The musketeers marched along in lines, firearms clutched in hands and pace in unity. The thunderous drums were pounding hard like his heart, now beating ever fast. The massive presence of the Frenian army had taken a toll on his mentality and now everything before him was becoming a flash of a blur. The muffled screams and cries of his men could be clearly heard as the Frenian horses charged into the defenders, exchanging steel and gunfire. The firing of muskets and cannonballs grew ever significant as the field army pressed on and advanced directly into a massive frontal assault. The annoyingly never-ending tremendous sounds of the drums dreaded in his ears. Shadows were moving hurriedly in front of him, pushing and pulling him aside repeatedly threatening to force him off his ground. And the Sun above, though its features unclear, illustrated a huge ball of bright silvery radiance, witnessing the battle and unleashing its beams and its fury above the besieging and the besieged.
When Aldus had regained enough of his sense, he strolled back to the higher elevation, wordlessly. The rapid firing of his musketeers frowned upon the besieging soldiers, attempting to seize the first lines of defense, the glacis. He previously had the ditches filled with water to prevent Sean to take the city by storm. Another factor was to force the defenders to battle the opposing soldiers with their might as Aldus had cut off their route to retreat. The men would therefore require to fight desperately and mightily for their lives. But now it proved a fatal mistake. Aldus had hoped that his strength was focused and preserved in order to offer better chances against Sean and his army, and despite that the defenders of the glacis had dealt the enemy considerable damage, their numbers were lacking, and the overwhelming enemy eventually would run over their positions. While the defenders could deal ten times the damage of its casualties to its enemy, the Frenians would suffer no more than a slash in the leg, while his losses would be as heavy as a death blow to the chest.
But a wound in the leg could grow pus and worsen. A death blow is a death blow and time would only matter before the dealt person dies. But pus in a wound would grow to be gruesome and undesired, if not tortuous to one's health. And therefore will be no battle. Not a formal one. There would only be sieges, and alley fights that followed after the gates were breached. And there would be no safe conduct. Everyone would burn when the fury of the enemy arrives.
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