Those watching from the castle walls had no idea where this strange army had come from or what they were doing here, but, seeing that the enemy was trying to stop them, Edward’s soldiers immediately took their side. They cried out warnings to the riders and clashed their spears on their shields and pointed urgently to the dragon warriors who were racing down upon them.

The riders saw their peril and increased their speed. They  galloped over the road, holding formation, keeping themselves between the enemy and the chariots. The chariot drivers plied the whip to their steeds. The chariots rumbled and bounded over the paving stones. The passengers clung to the sides, holding on for dear life.

The troop of dragon warriors separated, some racing to cut off the women, some moving to attack them on the flank. The riders, gripping the saddle with their thighs, let go of the reins and, grabbing their bows, fired arrows at the approaching dragon warriors.

Those waiting on the walls expected to see the arrows go up in smoke, as they’d seen happen in the Battle of Aston. To their astonishment, the arrows of the warrior women of Seth penetrated the dragon-scale armor. Many attackers fell, and those on the wall cheered.

It was apparent, though, that the army of Seth would not win the gates before the dragon warriors cut them off.

Edward raced down the stairs, shouting for his knights. The horses had already been saddled and readied for battle, and now stable-boys and groomsmen led them into the bailey near the gatehouse. The knights mounted, as did the king. Marcus ran down with him and stood near the gates, holding his father’s bridle. Marcus longed to join them, but he was not strong enough to sit on a horse, and he might imperil the mission.

“If I fall, you are in command, my son,” said Edward.

Marcus was in command. Not Gunderson. Marcus, the bastard son, the son he had not wanted, the son he’d never understood. Marcus saw pride and confidence in his father’s eyes, and he saw something else: an apology. It would forever go unspoken between them, but Edward was saying he was sorry.

“Look after your mother,” Edward added, and he put on his helm and took up his shield and rode to the gates, where men stood, ready to fling them open at his command. His knights fell in behind him.

“Open the gates!” the king commanded.

“Covering fire!” Marcus shouted. “Keep them busy.”

He thought of using the cannons, which were now perfectly safe, but no man would go near them, and Marcus himself was reluctant to chance it. Catapults hurled stones at the besiegers. Flights of arrows soared through the air, and though the dragon warriors caused these to go up in smoke, the attack kept their attention on the archers on the walls and away from the sortie at the front gate.