Yozef had dropped the old spear. His leg ached where the spent round had struck. His head spun. He was about to look for Denes and Carnigan, and when he turned, right under his feet sprawled the body of a young boy. A gash gaped across his chest, probably by a raider axe, since the wound cleaved halfway through the small chest. The boy’s eyes gazed wide, sightless at the sky, a surprised look on his face. It was Yonkel Miron. Yozef stared disbelieving, hoping somehow he was wrong. He sank to his knees, putting a hand on the boy’s bare leg already growing cold. Yonkel would never attend the abbey scholasticum for which Yozef thought he had potential. The boy’s curiosity, boundless energy, and potential were gone. Yozef’s mouth tasted bile at the pointlessness.
When once again aware of his surroundings, Yozef realized that other people knelt around Yonkel. Yozef had never sensed them come. It was Yonkel’s family. He recognized the parents, a sister, other children who must be siblings, cousins, and several adults—aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Most cried. They must have waited for Yozef to return to the world, for once he made eye contact, the father patted him on the shoulder, and weeping women wrapped Yonkel’s body in a cloak and laid it on a cloth. The men then picked up the corners, and the family walked out of the gate with their sad burden.
While Yozef knelt beside Yonkel, Denes, the abbot, and several other men climbed the rampart to look seaward. It had been half an hour since the last raider fled the courtyard. There were other raider groups, the one that had deployed for a possible assault on the abbey side wall, and the group that had first gone to the village. If they chose, the raiders could make another try at the abbey, but Denes didn’t think they would.
“Doubtful,” he told the abbot. “These are not Narthani, although I suspect they are in the employ of the Narthani. These are pirates, raiders, general free-booters. They aren’t out for conquest, only gold and slaves. They won’t shed blood if it’s not in their interest. The Narthani might try again after their losses, but not these people.”
He was right. The different raider groups gathered out of musket range and then headed toward the shore. Denes and the others watched, as they loaded onto their longboats and rowed to the waiting five ships.
Musfar Adalan watched the raid from the aftcastle of his flagship, using a powerful telescope made in Iraquinik. It had cost enough that he almost didn’t buy it, but it had proved its worth many a time. The edge of the village and the abbey complex were visible upslope from the beach. Although from a mile he couldn’t resolve details, he observed enough to know something had gone wrong. Instead of the assault on the abbey following Abel’s plan, a number of men had gone straight for the main gate—which even from this distance looked open. Something could have made Abel change the plan at the last moment, but Musfar doubted it. Abel was meticulous in planning and loath to change, unless necessary. More likely, Abel lost control of the Benhoudi.
As men poured through the abbey main gate, he saw a group of men headed toward the side wall of the complex, according to plan, then stop as Musfar heard faint musket fire—two volleys. There was no way the Benhoudi would be firing musket volleys in this situation; it had to be the islanders. Three or four minutes later, a small group ran from the abbey back toward the main body, far fewer than had entered the main gate. Obviously, most of his men were still inside, and the speed of the runners and the lack of new musket fire likely meant no more men would be coming out. The carefully planned raid had collapsed.
The group of men sweeping the village joined the remaining men nearer the abbey; then a few minutes later the entire mass headed to the beach. There was only one explanation. The attack on the abbey had cost so many men that Abel decided it was not worth continuing. Either there were more men inside the abbey complex than the Narthani had told them, or Abel believed the defenders too well positioned to be defeated without unacceptable loses.
Musfar turned to the grizzled man at his side, a veteran of many years and innumerable raids and a trusted clan member. “Memur, get two good men and find something here on the aftcastle they can appear to be doing.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, as he translated the meaning of Musfar’s words.
The three Narthani officers watched the action ashore with a lesser telescope and reacted when the raiding party started back to the beach. The leader, followed by the other two, stormed across the deck and climbed to where Musfar pretended to observe the shore.
“What’s the meaning of this!” raged the Narthani. “Your men are coming back without taking the abbey!”
“I can only assume the raid didn’t go as planned and the commander on shore decided to abort and return to the ships.”
“There’s still time to take the abbey as planned. You must go ashore yourself and order your men back!”
“I don’t ‘must’ have to do anything. We’re here to carry out raids that are supposed to be easy with the information you provide us. Mostly, it has worked well; this time it didn’t. I’m not in this to lose more men than the return justifies. You should be happy that this is only the second raid that has not gone well.” Memur returned with two crewmembers, and they busied themselves with redoing knots on ropes tied to the gunwale.
The Narthani leader turned red, gritted his teeth, and moved near Musfar so that he smelled the other’s breath. “You will do as you are told, or you will answer to General Akuyun when we return.”
Actually, Musfar knew Akuyun was smart and rational, not like this idiot. Who did he think he was to make such threats, with only three of them on a ship of Musfar’s men?
“My pardon, now that you’ve shown me the necessary action, I will carry it out immediately.” In one quick motion, Musfar pulled his dirk and drove it into the Narthani’s diaphragm. The man’s face registered shock. Musfar jerked the dirk back out and grabbed the man’s hair, turned his head, and slit his throat.
Before the other two Narthani reacted, one’s head was crushed under a belaying pin, and the other Narthani took another dirk into a kidney. The third wasn’t quite dead when all three were unceremoniously dumped overboard.
“Thank you,” Musfar complimented his men. He always believed in making sure efficient actions were appreciated. By this time, several of the ship’s crew had seen what happened and came running with weapons drawn. Musfar held up a hand to indicate all was well.
“What was that all about?” asked one sword wielder.
“It seems the raid today did not go well, and Abel is bringing the men back. Our Narthani employers thought we should continue the raid until taking the abbey, evidently no matter the cost. I respectfully disagreed.”
One officer spit over the side to indicate his opinion of the Narthani. “I assume this means we’ll not be staying in these waters?”