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Gods of War

iUniverse, Inc.

Chapter One

Charles stood at the stern of his ship watching the combined effects of the tide, the waves and the billowing sail. He had brought his ships with the dawn, making land just as the ebb tide began to change. This meant that they would have but a couple of hours in which to accomplish this raid. Then their boats would once again be afloat on the flood tide and they could take their loot back to the sea. That contingency was part of his planning. They had come from the east, from across the wild tossing Channel in the midst of a storm wind. Until they were but a mile offshore he couldn't see the beach. His second in command, Raymond, had expressed some concern for missing the proper beach. According to Raymond they could be almost anywhere along the Briton coast.

Standing there on the quarter deck Charles was a commanding figure and if he were in the least bit uncertain it did not show in his demeanor. Landing at this precise spot was sheer lucky coincidence, for Charles had no real idea of where they were. Nevertheless, he turned and boasted to Raymond about his prowess as a navigator and took this fortuitous landfall as a sign of further good fortune.

Wind driven sea spray, which had been torn from the wave crests had added to the pouring rain to further restrict visibility, but above the noise of the wind and rain they could now hear the crashing of the waves upon the rocky beach. Charles ordered the stern anchor dropped so as to stabilize their approach. The men began straining at the oars, pulling for the shore. Now the first shore wave began to crest and the ship surged ahead and the men stayed their oars riding the wave, then as it passed them they pulled hard not to lose their forward progress. Then next wave crest picked up the stern and they surged ahead again. This was the dangerous time. This was the time when the ship could broach in the surf and be destroyed. The stern line was held to stabilize their approach.

"Pull damn you, pull," Charles shouted.

Charles stared up at the cliffs and at the looming castle walls. He was looking for any sign that his sails had been seen. There was no movement on the battlements. He assumed that if there were sentries up there they were hiding in their shacks to avoid the chill rain. Since there had never been such a raid on this castle they were probably complacent in their security. Even as he watched the heights the ship's keel ground hard on the rocky beach and slowed to a gradual stop. His men were silently scrambling ashore carrying the line with which they could tie the ship to the heavy rock outcroppings. Now the waves were breaking across the stern and driving it further up on the sand and cascading high into the air drenching the occupants. There was no sound other than the crashing surf as the men dropped from the ship's gunnels and splashed into the cold water.

Far below the towering Castle battlements, the raiders strained silently as they pulled their ships further up onto the shore. His men came across two sentries. These men were wrapped in their cloaks and sleeping within a small stone structure. It was these two men that were supposed to be vigilantly guarding the sea approach against just such an excursion. A bell rope connected their tiny hut with the castle far above. Had they been awake they could have pulled on this rope which would have rung a bell, which would have provided warning to the Castle Guards. Charles was striding forward across the sand as his men entered the tiny hut and he silently cautioned his men against touching that rope. These two men that had neglected their duties had their throats were cut while they slept. Charles sarcastically reflected that such was a bitter price for a man to pay for a few minutes of extra sleep or for a small bit of huddled warmth, but then he added the thought that such were the wages of betrayal. These two foolish men may as well have handed the keys of the castle to the invaders.

The other boats were landing now and the men were straining at the lines to secure them. Charles watched his men and allowed himself a moment of pride and satisfaction then he cautioned himself that it may have been too soon for overconfidence. These Norman warriors of his, those knights and men at arms that had originally descended from the tribes from the far north, had come across the Channel in their fine ships and had crept across the beach, pausing for just a moment to rip the life out of the two sentries. Then they began running as fast as they could as they charged up the steep rocky path that sloped upward towards Newport Castle.

On this morning the sole advantage of these raiders lay with surprise. Charles, also known as Charles the Merciless, knew that only too well. He knew that if the men of the sleeping Castle had been warned by the sentries on the beach that the great draw bridge would have been raised and the stout wooden gate would have been closed. If that had occurred the trip across the treacherous sea would have been for naught, but as the saying went, fortune smiled upon the bold.

He was well aware that on those cliffs far above the tossing sea, the villagers, those serfs and freemen who were living outside of the castle gates, would be comfortable in their warm huts and be understandably reluctant to face the cold wet dismal light of day. With any luck they would still be lingering, huddled about their smoky hearth fires.

Charles looked up at the Castle, which stood bravely high above them on a bleak English headland. This Castle guarded a small protected bay which was located to the north of the fortification. Stone walls backed to the sea and were protected on that side by the sheer cliffs that descended two hundred feet to this small rocky beach. The plunderers planned on taking the great edifice from the rear. The front entrance of the Castle faced down slope towards the harbor to the north and the structure had been built of earthen works that led up to a thick twelve foot high rock wall that was topped by parapets and a dungeon tower. This collection of structures was located on the sea side of a deep natural depression. A draw bridge had been constructed to breach that gap and when that bridge was drawn up the fortress was practically impregnable.

The next barrier to his success was that drawbridge. As he ran up the steep path his sword and shield and chain mail coat hung heavy upon him. As he crested the rise he was panting heavily and stopped, ostensibly he had paused to urge his men that were struggling up the path to hurry, but in fact he was gasping for breath, his chest was heaving with the exertion of the climb. Despite the chill wind and rain he was sweating. He waved his sword at his men and then looked toward the castle. The drawbridge was down! He thanked his Patron Saint and having gathered his strength he charged onward.

Timing was everything for these raiders, as was coincidence. Charles was well aware of that fact. If they had attacked on another day the draw bridge might still be up, if they attacked too early the Castle gate would still be secured.

As luck would have it, at dawn that morning the Warder and his minions of the night watch, had dropped the bridge and opened the portal. It was his duty to do so in preparation for a coming day of hunting and to allow the people of the village to set up their wares. When Charles gained the crest he was...