The vigor of those knights was such that even while they rowed wondrous hard they talked also. Each told his name and the reason behind his capture, which for all of them was that they hoped to see some marvel or adventure and went to seek the rumored ship. Some had departed from Mumport or Ampherae, and Sir Clovis and Sir Poemen greeted Sir Johan that they knew already, but most had met their fate and the ship in others of the countries that surrounded the blue-gray sea, or even past that. There were knights from Hephon which was near Ephys, Krystila so far north of that that another sea did it border, Beauval and Denes much to their south, Trilling and Dryfold to the west so far that Cuculna was east of them, and all lands else between those, even Pomponiae with its library and Boncot the crown of the sea's southern shore. Nor had all those daring seekers of risk been near the places they guarded when they were made prisoner but had wandered elsewhere, so that it seemed that there was no city or castle in all the world but that some knight had news of it, and none were allowed to keep quiet when he had aught to say.
The sea-wise knights among them discovered it when their unwanted captain changed their course, and that they had left the sea after a week and a day only, which is a tale itself few would believe. The waves of the ocean outmatched the seas in how high and fierce they were, as much more so as horses bred to carry warlike men are than those meant for burdens, yet the galley rode them just the same. Not long however, for its course changed again, and the captain walked below for the last time.
“The oars need you no longer. Come up, come up, my angels with swords of wrath to harm him who harmed me! Your arms will not smite him however mighty your limbs or however deft your hands, but the unworthy men that block me you will put aside, cold. Come up!”
They went, though first they did on their armor and weapons as gladly as the clouds fill with rain when long they have been dry, which was proved by the thunderous cries they gave. One hundred knights mustered on the deck of the galley and watched as it sailed even against the wind, for so uncanny it was, into a harbor, calm and a friend to sailors. Past that rose a hill ruled by a dark and half-ruined castle. That it was Cuculna the seaborne knights knew by this, that there was no town about where men and women welcomed ships sure in the strength of their lord and his will to treat raiders as they deserved, but only a field cleared for combat where armed men waited.
“Better not to clear away obstacles, if you have sure knowledge the foe comes,” said Sir Lanfranc of Beauval, who had fought pirates before and won.
“We are not foes to them, they think, but prey.” The ship captain said that and pointed high up where stones arced through the grumbling sky, hurled by engines within Cuculna. They struck the ship to such result as when children, dreaming of the deeds of knights, chase birds and wary rabbits about the fields while their brothers and fathers do work, and later tell of the beasts and over-proud knights they humbled to their mothers, who are awed by such bravery as it deserves. Even so did the chunks of rock, not smoothed by careful hands but uneven, and later arrows and bullets sent by slings and bows fall about the knights crouched behind their shields on the deck without doing anything, even to the sail, and the eerie captain stood amid it all and laughed.
“Is it that your sorcery has weakened, that you trust more in engines than it, feeble as they are against my galley? Or is it that my sorcery is enough stronger now, more than yours and than what it was then, that you fear to test it, sure you will fare the worse? I come for you!” So he boasted, raving with more words of that sort, and so he was humbled. For even then the timber of his unnatural ship began to rot by the art of Cuculna's master. The mast fell with its sail, the hull twisted and groaned, and the knights readied themselves for the leap.
Though the enemy had proved more masterful in sorcery, the captain did not succumb or despair but instead called on spirits for aid so that the ship ran aground before it lost its shape. The knights on board leapt down, ready for the fight, and the man who drove them followed, even as before them the host of Cuculna, robbed of an unearned victory, drew itself up to take the triumph it had hoped to be given. Those among them that claimed the ranks of lord and count led the left, right, and center, and around them gathered men who went by the name of knight and others more honest who wanted no sweet guise to plunder and do wrong. With fifty on the right wing, fifty on the left, and five and thirty in the center, they hoped to encircle the attackers and win thereby the contest where defeat is the end.
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Against them the knights formed a right wing of thirty and four behind Sir Reiner of Boncot, a knight puissant beyond every other but a few, who was much famed for his deeds in the war just turned to peace between Percy and Diodore. Before it the foremost kings about the sea were those two, but after it Sir Reiner's master King Percy was without rival in his sway and his rule. Sir Hring of Krystila who had won battles for Duke Sten his cousin led his four and thirty on the left, and the center obeyed Sir Arsam of Estash, a country rich with knighthood. He was a king's son who led nine and twenty then, and had led a thousand under Prince Khambuz his brother.
The two armies met in the clash of spears and cries, one driven by force across the waves that struggled to push them back for their good, and the other by fear of its fate should the sorcerous king fall who alone did not hate the robber knights and lords as all the people did, and that with good cause. The men on their right pressed hard under a black hare on red, the sign of Baron Delgado, whose mace was woe to shields, mail, and flesh alike. No less fiercely did Baron Patricio of Repatu lead the left under a banner of green fire which showed not on his shield, for he had none, but wielded instead a pike with both hands for the harm of his foes.
Ibi, baron of Cabralla by neither birth nor any repute or good he did for his subjects, but only by the will of one hard to disobey because of his terrible arts, tried the same in the center and pushed forward with his shield that showed two bulls, each on either side of an obelisk, but he failed in that. For Sir Arsam bore the renown of his brother well enough, though it was greater than his, but not that of his nephews, who had won fame when but new in their knighthood, so that he vowed in his heart not to see Estash his home without doing some worthy deed. He did one then, when he won past the point of Baron Ibi's spear without being harmed by it and struck his cheek with his death-dealing mace so heavily that never did his foe rise again.
Then the host with its back to the sea had its way in the middle, but not on its left where Baron Delgado raged, and less on its right where Sir Almiro did much. First his spear split the links which ought to have saved Sir Aelius from what comes after but did not, and second he shattered the shield of Sir Eliot of Twicecreek, though his spear withstood the clash no better. He drew his sword then and fought Sir Mort of Clerod, who had moved to cover Sir Eliot, judging it a shame to watch his ally die though it was against the will of both of them that they be companions in the fight.
Though the men were few, so much battle they had then and so little heed did they give to their wounds and the blood that fell in such showers that the dry ground mixed with it and became mud under their boots busy with footwork that it was as hard as war any of them knew. Had any of those warlike men thought to flee or feared a rout of his fellows, he soon gave it up, for though their souls might leave that spear-strewn field for lands better or worse as they had earned, their bodies never would.
The fight fared well for Cuculna on the wings at first so that the robber knights had only to reach out with greedy hands and seize their victory, they though, but war is more changeable than that. The only sure end of battle is this, that there will be orphans who were not before, and widows, and mothers and fathers who see days they hoped they never would. Sir Reiner went against Baron Patricio, though full unaware of his rank and his line or any other part of him save his sword, which he caught on his shield that showed five drops of rain and pierced his neck with his own polished brand. The men around Baron Patricio then judged it better for them to fight men less mighty and skilled than Sir Reiner. Sir Barclay of Chipcliff turned his ax that had threatened farmers and merchants more often than knights and brigands against Sir Poemen of Argetych and thereby made the last mistake of a mistaken life, and only the unmoving earth stopped his fall.
And Sir Poemen's long sword slew more beside, and Sir Reiner's, and Sir Pardos of Hephon did more than Sir Henryk his cousin by marriage when he smote Sir Seumas on the shoulder, made him to bleed from his side, and at last passed his blade through the thigh of that man who was stronger than most but unable to withstand wounds such as those. Then Sir Almiro was alone, and Sir Poemen's sword outmatched his, and that was the end of him.