Adventure stories; Asia, Central -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Love stories; Science fiction
“They pressed us hard that time,” he panted, as he tied up the cut on
his arm. “I thought they would drive us down. I doubt our standing
another charge like that. See, many of my men are dead, and more are
badly hurt.”
“You must hold on somehow. I will send you thirty men from Philos’s
company, which is all I can spare.”
As I returned to my position I could see the enemy massing anew in
still greater strength, as the main body pressed up the road toward the
bridge. I told Philos to send thirty of his men over to his cousin, and
they got there just as the enemy advanced once more.
This time they attacked us both, broke through into our orchard, and
once again swept right over the defences of the lower hill. We took
heavy toll of them as they came up the steep slope, but they did not
lack courage, and the gaps in the lines filled as fast as they were
made, while their arrows slowly but steadily wore down our weak force.
Twice we drove them back out of the orchard, and twice they pushed
their way in again. The third time they drove us back to the very
crest, and only the reserve under Philos saved us being cleared right
off the hilltop. The green hillside was strewn with bodies, and every
now and then a wild rush of shouting men would surge in, with scurry
of steel, and the low dull sound of blows, shouts of slayers, and cry
of wounded, though for the most part the Blue Sakae fought in silence,
fighting like trapped wolves.
We beat them out once more, and Payindah’s rifle was hot and the
woodwork oily, and his beloved bayonet red to the haft. As they drew
off I looked around. On the lower hill the fight raged round the huts,
and the whole hill was massed with the enemy. On our side we had no
longer men to hold the orchard hedge, and had to draw back to positions
nearer the crest. To the right the enemy had found ways through the
marshland, and driven up our men below, while my thirty mounted men had
come up the hill, picketed their ponies behind, and were standing just
under the crest waiting for orders.
Still farther out to the right, Stephnos was heavily out-numbered, and
I could see him withdrawing toward us, disputing every inch of cover
where his men dismounted and fought awhile with the bow, galloping off
once more as the enemy closed, to dismount again and renew the fight at
the next point that offered cover.
“It is finished,” said Philos, pointing to the lower hill. “See, the
enemy have swept right over it.”
“Yes, but the huts still hold,” said I, looking through my glasses. “I
can see the enemy still being shot down with arrows. Your cousin has
drawn the rest of his men into the buildings and still holds out. But
the road is open behind us now, and we shall be surrounded in a little
while. Send a reliable man to tell Stephnos how we stand. If he is
going to join us, he must do so now. Otherwise it will be too late.”
“They come!” shouted Payindah, pointing back down the Aornos road.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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