Empire of Ivory (42 page)

men spiking their own guns before abandoning them, only a

few gun-crews at a time, and hurling into the moat the

barrels of powder. Mr. Fellowes had already gone, with the

ground crew, for the dragons' battle-gear: still where it

had been stowed, fortunately, in the smithy. They came

running with the belly-netting, and all the spare carabiner

straps which they had. "The armor, sir, we can't manage,

without he come and lift it himself," he said, panting, as

they began in haste to rig Temeraire's belly-netting again,

and Lily's; Dulcia had gone aloft again, her riflemen armed

now with pepper-shot, to keep the enemy off their heads at

least a little while.

"Leave it," Laurence said; this would be no prolonged

struggle, but a quick dash for safety, and back again for

more of the men; they needed speed more than the protection

of the armor, when the enemy had no guns.

Temeraire crouched for the first group of soldiers to climb

into the netting: the men stumbling, some pale and sweating

with fear, driven by their officers, and others dazed with

the noise and smoke. Laurence now bitterly regretted he had

not asked Fellowes, back in England, to rig up some of the

Chinese silk carrying-harnesses which would now have

allowed them to take many more than the normally allotted

number for retreat; thirty for a heavy-weight, when by

weight Temeraire could have managed two hundred or more at

a run.

They crammed some fifty men in, regardless, and hoped the

netting would hold for the short flight. "We will-"

Laurence began, meaning to say they would return; he was

cut short by a shrieked warning from Dulcia, and Temeraire

sprang aloft only in time: three of the enemy, using a

netting made of the metal hawsers, had brought overhead an

enormous boulder roughly the size of an elephant and let

fly. It smashed the delicate cup of the bell-tower with a

sour, ringing clang, and came down through the short

passage of the entryway, brick and mortared stone crumbling

everywhere, and the portcullis moaned and sagged open to

the ground.

Temeraire sped to the Allegiance, to let the men down onto

the dragondeck, and as quick hastened back to the shore.

The spearmen were coming in through the rubble of the

narrow passageway, charging with yells into the teeth of

the musket-fire Grey had mustered, flooding by and up

towards the guns. In parties they were encircling the

emplacements yet manned and stabbing the gun-crews to death

with quick, short, jerking motions, their spearheads wet

and red with blood; one after another the cannon-roars

silenced, and the dragons overhead began circling like

ominous crows, waiting for the last to be stifled so they

might descend.

Temeraire reared up onto the roof and knocked flat a dozen

of the attackers with a swipe of his foreleg, snarling.

"Temeraire, the guns," Laurence called. "Smash the guns

they have taken-"

The attackers had seized now three cannon not yet spiked,

and were trying to turn the first to bring it to bear on

the courtyard, where they could fire at Temeraire and Lily.

Temeraire simply put his forehand on the housing and thrust

the cannon and the six men clinging onto it through the

notched brick battlements; it plunged down and into the

moat with a terrific splash, the men undaunted letting go

and swimming up through the water.

Lily, landing behind them to take on more of the retreat,

spat: the second cannon began to hiss and smoke, the barrel

thumping to the ground as the wooden housing dissolved

quicker than the metal, and went rolling free like a deadly

ninepin, knocking men down and spreading the acid

everywhere, so splatters hissed upon the brick and dirt.

The earth beneath them shook so violently Temeraire

stumbled and dropped back to all four legs in the

courtyard: another massive boulder had dropped, and smashed

a section of the outer walls, at the far and undefended end

of the courtyard. A fresh wave of men came surging through,

quicker than Grey's men could turn to meet them, and

charged those still defending the ruined entryway of the

castle. The riflemen ranged across Temeraire's back set up

a quick irregular fire into the onrushing mass; then the

spearmen were in and grappling furiously with the soldiers

and their bayonets, and a strange quiet descended. The guns

were scarcely firing anymore, and only a scattering of

occasional musket-and pistol-shot broke the soft grunting

noise of panting, struggling men, the groans of the wounded

and the dying.

All the yard was a great confusion; with no clear avenue of

retreat or line of battle, men ran in all directions, now

trying to evade, now trying to seek combat, crowded by

frightened and bellowing livestock, horses and cows and

sheep. These had been brought into the castle, against a

siege expected to last longer, and penned in the smaller

second courtyard: maddened by the noise of battle and the

dragons wild overhead, they had got loose and now went

careening indiscriminately through the grounds, a flock of

hens crying around their feet, until they broke their legs

or necks in flight, or found their way by chance outside

the castle grounds.

In the crowd, Laurence caught sight to his surprise of

Demane, clinging with grim desperation to the collar of the

heifer he had been promised, which plunged and bellowed

madly against his slight weight; she was dragging him out

into the melee, while the calf tried to follow moaning.

Sipho hung back in the archway which allowed communication

between the two courtyards of the castle, gnawing upon his

small bunched fist, his face wrenched with terror, and then

with sudden decision dashed out after his brother, his hand

reaching for the lead-rope which straggled out behind the

cow.

A pair of soldiers were bayoneting one of the enemy to

death savagely, as the cow went dragging by; one

straightened and wiped blood across his mouth, panting, and

shouted, "Fucking little thief, couldn't wait till we're

cold-"

Demane saw, let go the cow and lunged; Sipho went down

beneath his protective weight; the bayonet flashed down

towards them. There was not even time to call out a

protest: the tide of the battle drew the soldiers away in

another moment, and left the two small bodies huddled on

the ground, bloody. The cow stumbled away over the rubble,

picking her way out of the courtyard through the open gap

in the walls, the calf trotting after her.

"Mr. Martin," Laurence said, very low. Martin nodded, and

tapped Harley on the shoulder; they let themselves down the

harness and dashed out across the field. They carried the

boys back to be lifted into the netting; Demane limp, Sipho

weeping softly against Harley's shoulder, sticky with his

brother's blood.

A handful of the spearmen had got in among the settlers

congregated in the barracks, and a terrible confused

slaughter was under way: the women and children were pushed

aside, the attackers sometimes bodily setting them against

the walls to put them out of the way, but with no

compunction went on laying the men out at their feet, while

the settlers fired their muskets and rifles wildly,

striking friend and foe alike. The emptied boats were

coming back for more passengers, but the sailors at the

oars hesitated to pull in, despite the furious swearing of

the coxs'n, his profanities carrying across the water.

"Mr. Ferris," Laurence shouted, "Mr. Riggs, clear them some

space there, if you please," and himself slid down, to take

charge of the loading of the retreating soldiers in

Ferris's place. Someone handed him a pistol and a cartridge

box, still sticky with the blood of the corpse from which

they had come; Laurence slung it quickly over his shoulder,

and tore open the paper cartridge with his teeth. He had

the pistol loaded, and drew out his sword; a spearman came

running at him, but he had no opportunity to shoot.

Temeraire, catching sight of the threat, cried out his name

and lunged to slash the man violently down, dislodging as

he did so three of the wavering soldiers trying to get into

his netting.

Laurence clenched his jaw, and permitted himself to be

concealed behind the closed ranks of his ground crew; he

handed the pistol forward to Mr. Fellowes, and instead went

to speed aboard the now-desperate men, harried on all

sides, into the stretching leather of the netting.

Lily, who could not take as many, had been loaded already;

she lifted away and spat at the flood of men coming in

through the ruined wall, filling the empty space with

smoking, hideously twisted corpses. But she had to go

towards the ship, and the survivors behind at once began to

knock down more of the rubble from the walls to bury the

remnants of acid.

"Sir," Ferris said, panting as he came back; his hand was

tucked into his belt, and a gash brilliant cerise through

his shirt, running the length of his arm, "we have embarked

them all, I think; the settlers, I mean, those left."

They had cleared the courtyard, and Temeraire with more

savage work had killed those manning the guns; although

only a few gun-crews still labored, their irregular fire

all that still kept off the dragons. The ship's boats were

dashing away over the sea, the sailors pulling on the oars

with frantic back-straining haste; the barracks were awash

with blood, bodies of black men and white rising and

lowering together in the pink-stained froth where the waves

were coming in upon the strand.

"Get the general aboard," Laurence said, "and signal all

retreat, if you please, Mr. Turner." Turning he offered

Mrs. Erasmus his hand to climb aboard; Ferris had escorted

her back, and her daughters in their pinafores, dirty and

marked with soot, were clinging to her skirts.

"No, Captain, thank you," she said. He did not understand,

at first, and wondered if she were injured; if she did not

realize the boats had left. She shook her head. "Kefentse

is coming. I told him that I would find my daughters, and

wait for him here in the castle: that is why he let me go."

He stared, bewildered. "Ma'am," he said, "he cannot pursue

us, not long, not from shore; if you fear his capturing you

again-"

"No," she said again, simply. "We are staying. Do not be

afraid for us," she added. "The men will not hurt us. It is

dishonor to stain their spears with a woman's blood, and

anyway I am sure Kefentse will be here soon."

The Allegiance was already weighing anchor, her guns

roaring in fresh vigor to clear her skies to make sail. On

the battlements, the last working gun-crews had abandoned

their posts, and were running madly for escape: to

Temeraire, to the last boats waiting.

"Laurence, we must go," Temeraire said, very low and

resonant, his head craning from side to side: his ruff was

stretched to its full extent, and even on the ground he was

instinctively breathing in long, deep draughts, his chest

expanding. "Lily cannot hold so many of them, all alone; I

must go help her." She was all their shelter from the enemy

beasts, who were cautious of her acid having seen its

effects now at close range, but they would encircle her and

have her down in a moment; or draw her too far aloft, so

that some of their number could plunge down upon Temeraire

while he remained vulnerable upon the ground.

More of the men had come pouring into the courtyard through

the yielded ground; they were keeping beyond Temeraire's

reach, but spreading out along the far wall in a halfcircle. Individually they could do no great harm, but by

rushing together with their spears might drive Temeraire

aloft; and above Laurence could see some of the dragons

skillfully maneuvering around Lily and into lower

positions, ready to receive him onto their claws. There was

no time to persuade her; in any case Laurence did not

think, looking at her face, that she would be easily

persuaded. "Ma'am," he said, "your husband-"

"My husband is dead," she said, with finality, "and my

daughters will be raised proud children of the Tswana here,

not as beggars in England."

He could not answer: she was a widow, and beholden to no

one but herself; he had not the right to compel her. He

looked at the children holding on to her, their faces gaunt

and hollow, too exhausted by extremity even to be afraid

any longer. "Sir, that's everyone," Ferris said at his

shoulder, looking anxiously between them.

She nodded her farewell to Laurence's silence, and then

bending lifted up the little girl onto her hip; with a hand

on the older girl's shoulder, she guided them towards the

shelter of the raised covered porch of the governor's

residence, oddly decorous where it rose out of the bloody