The Drawing of the Dark

'The cask, sir?' repeated Ebers doubtfully. 'Isn't it bolted down? How about -Damn you, if you were this slow to obey me in battle

we'd all have been wiped out years ago. You've got your orders - go!'

Duffy had opened his mouth to voice his preference for wine, but now shut it. I guess I can't turn down the beer, he thought helplessly, now that poor Ebers is off risking his life to bring it to us. He shrugged inwardly and turned to Stein with a smile. 'Bock beer? In October? Where does Fenn get that?'

'It's Herzwesten,' Stein said. 'The owner of the Zimmermann Inn - what's his name, Eilif? He hired your company.'

'Aurelianus,' Eilif answered.

'That's right. Aurelianus evidently saved a lot of the spring production for just such an emergency as this -'The broad wave accompanying the statement took in, Duffy gathered, the Turkish ranks massed outside the city, - 'and now he's distributing all of it among the troops. It's been twelve days now, and there must be ten thousand soldiers of one sort or other in the city; I'm amazed there's still any left.'

'Maybe it's like the loaves and the fishes,' Duffy suggested.

'I like this fellow Aurelianus' miracle better,' commented Vertot.

'Anyway, Duff,' said Eilif, who hadn't followed that last exchange, 'I called you over here because poor old Bobo was killed out there today. Tomorrow morning all the landsknecht captains and their lieutenants are meeting at the Zimmermann Inn with von Salm and some highly placed boys to ask for more money - our feeling is that we've got them over a barrel, you see - and we want to be well-represented. You, therefore, are hereby promoted to the post of lieutenant.'

'Me?' Duffy felt vaguely frightened by the sudden conjunction of drinking the Herzwesten bock and visiting the Zimmermann Inn. For the first time in five months he felt his sense of independence begin to waver. Maybe none of this, he thought, from Bobo's death to Ebers' beer-fetching mission, was accidental. 'But good God, Eilif, I'm your most recently acquired man! A dozen of your old wolves deserve the post more than I do, and they'll probably mutiny if I'm put over them.' There was shouting from the other end of the room, and the sound of splintering wood.>Without pausing, he kicked away a crescent blade that

was coming at him in a low line, and clubbed the wielder in the jaw with the heavy sword-pommel. Another of the battle-maddened Turks was rushing at him, and he knocked the scimitar away with a high parry and let the man run onto the extended dagger.

Then a physical shock whiplashed through the press as the galloping knights ploughed into the Janissary-choked gap between the two groups of landsknechten. The huge broadswords in the hands of the steel-cased riders rose and fell, and the Turks gave way like a tangle of driftwood before a crashing wave.

Duffy took advantage of the distraction to strike the head off one Turk with a whirling chop, axe-style. A moment later there were two landsknechten beside him and one hard-pressed Turk in front; then that one turned and was running, along with perhaps a dozen other remaining Janissaries.

'Let them go!' boomed the deep voice of von Salm. 'Advance at a walk to the place they held!'

A walk was all Duffy could have done anyway. He managed to lift and sheathe his weapons, and plodded forward, panting, lacking the strength to reach up and wipe the froth from his lips.

In a few minutes they stood on the wall-topped rise. Ignoring an admonitory bark from von Salm, Duffy sat down on the masonry and stared back at the high walls of Vienna. The city looked impossibly safe and far away. If Suleiman orders a vigorous counter-charge now, he thought dully, the knights would make it back, but damned few of the landsknechten. I wouldn't make it, for damned sure.

He heard a heavy, multiple-clank thud and looked behind him. One of the knights had fallen from his horse, though whether from a wound or heat-prostration Duffy couldn't tell. 'Strip off his armor,' von Salm ordered. The count had raised his visor, and with his red, sweat gleaming face looked on the verge of heat-prostration himself.

Do we have time?' one of the mercenaries asked anxiously. The silence was beginning to weigh heavily on the small, isolated group. 'We could just carry him -'Damn it, will you.. .obey me?'

With a shrug the mercenary squatted and began tugging at the straps and buckles. He was quickly joined by two of his fellows, and in a few moments they had unfastened all the armor - revealing the knight to be dead, of a thrust in the side between the breast and back plates.

'Very well,' said von Salm wearily. 'Now untie these two bombs, join their fuses and splice a length of match-cord to them. I want a long fuse.'

The dozen retreating Janissaries had reached the Turkish lines, and there seemed to be activity there. What is he clowning with? Duffy wondered impatiently. This is a time for retreating, not cleverness.

'Good,' said the count. 'Now reassemble that armor with the bombs inside.' He looked at the knight beside him. 'I had planned only to demolish this wall, but possibly we can lure in an eager Moslem or two as well.'

When the sweating footsoldiers had done as he ordered, and leaned the suit of armor in a standing position against the wall, von Salm had them light the cord that dangled from the empty helmet. 'Back home now!' he called. 'At a leisurely pace, landsknechten flanking.'

Duffy had almost completely got his breath back, and walked around the assembling horses to where Eilif's company was regathering. Eilif stood apparently unscathed at the front, but Duffy didn't see Bobo. The Irishman got in line and just stared at the ground, channeling all his attention into the tasks of breathing and relaxing his cramped hands.

'I see you've made it so far,' came a voice from beside him.

He raised his head. It was the young man of the mandrake root, his clothes dusty and torn and his face already showing bruises, but evidently unhurt. 'Oh, aye.' He looked the young man up and down. 'I warned you about those clothes, if you recall. And I see you lost your magicus.'

'My what?'

'Your root, your mandrake charm.' He pointed at the lad's undecorated belt.

The young man looked down, startled, saw it was true and pressed his lips together. He stretched on tip-toe to see von Satin, off to his right, and muttered, 'When are they going to get us moving?'

Before Duffy could answer, von Satin had flicked the reins of his horse and the several columns got under way, marching at a slow, easy walk west, toward the high city walls.