Shivers couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“I don’t need excuses, Chief, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. What’s the name for it, when a thing’s bound to happen? There’s a word for it, ain’t there, when there’s no stopping something? No avoiding it, whatever you try to do?”

“Inevitable,” said Monza.

“That’s it. The inevitable.” Shivers chewed happily on the word like a mouthful of good meat. “I’m happy with what’s done. I’m happy with what’s coming.”

A shrill whistle cut through the air. All together, with a rattling of armour, the first wave knelt in parties of a dozen and took up their long ladders between them. They started to jog forwards, in piss-poor order if Shivers was honest, slipping and sliding across the slimy gardens. Others followed after, none too eager, sharpshooters with flatbows aiming to keep the archers on the walls busy. There were a few grunts, some calls of “steady” and the rest, but a quiet rush, on the whole. It wouldn’t have seemed right, really, giving your war cry while you ran at a wall. What do you do when you get there? You can’t keep shouting all the way up a ladder.

“There they go.” Shivers stood, lifted his axe and shook it above his head. “Go on! Go on, you bastards!”

They made it halfway across the gardens before Shivers heard a floating shriek of, “Fire!” A moment later a clicking rattle from the walls. Bolts flitted down into the charging men. There were a couple of screams, sobs, a few boys dropped, but most kept pressing forwards, faster’n ever now. Mercenaries with bows of their own knelt, sent a volley back, pinging from battlements or flying right over.

The whistle went again and the next wave started forwards, the men who’d drawn the happy task of climbing. Light-armoured mostly, so they’d move nice and nimble. The first party had made it to the foot of the walls, were starting to raise their ladder. One of ’em dropped with a bolt in his neck, but the rest managed to push the thing the whole way. Shivers watched it swing over and clatter into the parapet. Other ladders started going up. More movement at the top of the walls, men leaning out with rocks and chucking them down. Bolts fell among the second wave, but most of ’em were getting close to the walls now, crowding round, starting to climb. There were six ladders up, then ten. The next one fell apart when it hit the battlements, bits of wood dropping on the shocked boys who’d raised it. Shivers had to chuckle.

More rocks dropped. A man tumbled from halfway up a ladder, his legs folding every which way underneath him, started shrieking away. There was plenty of shouting all round now, and no mistake. Some defenders on a tower roof upended a big vat of boiling water into the faces of a party trying to raise a ladder below. They made a hell of a noise, ladder toppling, running about clutching their heads like madmen.