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The fireball hurtled toward us, crashing against the side of the curtain wall. Flames streamed down into the dry moat, even as soldiers tried to cross it to scale the walls and the baron’s men flung rocks down through the hoardings. Sicard’s men fell shrieking from the walls, but more kept coming. Five hundred men? It seemed more like a thousand.

The sun rose higher and the fighting went on. Sicard’s men had partially filled in a section of the moat with earth and logs so that they could roll a siege tower close to the castle. It was covered with wet animal hide to protect it from flames, and inside there were dozens of swordsmen, ready to charge over the wall. As the baron’s knights fired upon the tower, more of Sicard’s men braved the dry moat and rushed to climb the walls. It was impossible to shoot them from directly above, so the squires took aim with rocks and dropped them down through holes in the hoardings.

Everything was chaos, but the baron’s men were holding off the attackers. Then a volley of burning arrows from the ground set one of the hoardings on fire, and fighters scrambled out of it, retreating to the safety of the wall-walk. Meanwhile, the siegetower was moving closer. Any moment now, the two sides would be fighting hand-to-hand high on the walls.

I ran to my door, but of course it was still locked.

Dear God, my name is Hannah Dory, and this is not how I want to die.

Returning to the window, I watched the siege tower make its final lurch toward the castle wall. Two of the baron’s commanders were trying to push him toward safety, but the baron shook them off. He drew his crossbow, the arrow’s tip already alight, and shot it into the siege tower. It hit in a corner not covered by rawhide, and the flames caught the wood and the tower began to burn. More burning arrows followed, and soon the tower blazed like a torch.

Smoke filled the air and stung my eyes. It seemed like everything in the world was burning. Even on the far-off horizon, I could see black clouds of smoke curling miles into the sky.

Margery came in, her face even paler than usual. She poured me a cup of ale and we sat in silence, listening to the sounds of battle. It raged into the evening and then, as the sun went down, it suddenly quieted. We could hear nothing but the wind, crying through the ramparts.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“Men have to rest at the end of a day, I suppose,” I said, “whether they’re farmers or fighters.”

The lines of my song came back to me, and I sang them for Margery.

Now’s the time to be at peace, our day’s long work is done

And mothers are calling their children in, one by one by one.

“Mothers, call your soldiers home,” Margery said. “Before they kill us all.”

The door swung open and Agnes stalked in. “They burned all the towns on the way,” she spat. She flung a tray with bread and sausage onto the table in the corner. “Sicard’s army. That’s how they rode through the night, you know—they lit their way with burning houses.”

My stomach clenched. Sothatwas the black smoke I’d seen in the distance. But I shouldn’t have been surprised: the great men fight, and the poor men pay the price.

“What quarrel did he have with them?” Margery asked.

“None,” Agnes said. “But they were a fine source of light, weren’t they?” Her voice was choked and furious. “We came from one of those, you and I!”

Sicard burned farmers, sheepherders, and children asleep in their beds, I thought, feeling sick. I had no love for Baron Joachim, but I was sure he would never do such a thing. He’d shown me mercy, hadn’t he, in his own strange way? And he’d proven his bravery on the wall today.

“The baron must summon all who are left,” I said.

Margery leaned toward me. “What are you talking about?”

I walked to the window and looked out. All was peaceful darkness. But it was a false peace, and it could be broken at any moment. “The farmers and weavers and ploughboys,” I said. “They’ll come.”

“To fight?” Margery asked. “With what weapons?”

“With whatever they can find,” I answered. “They can attack at night, the way Sicard did. Let them pay back treachery with treachery.” I turned back to the sisters. “A sleeping man is easy enough to kill.”

“Do you have many strong men in The Bend?” Margery asked.

I paused. “We did,” I said. “But you’ll find little help there now.”And that is all my fault.“I need paper and a quill.”

Margery stared at me. “Whatever for?”

“To write with,” I said, exasperated.

Her eyes grew even wider. “You can do that?”

“A little, thanks to a priest. Now bring me—”