Siege of Toure

Henre, a tall, thin man in his early fifties with gray hair and a scraggly beard that unsuccessfully tried to cover the large, red scar across his left cheek, carried himself with the air of nobility, even though he was no more than a common soldier by birth. He addressed the Duke respectfully, thought they had known each other for many years.

"My Lord," he began, "there is a shortage of salt in the city. I've ordered men to search the houses of the merchant quarter for personal stores that might have been locked away when the citizens fled, sir, but I fear that we will not find enough to last more than a few weeks at the longest."

"Do what you must," the Duke replied seemingly without even considering the issue. "We'll be running short of more than salt in the next month, I'll wager."

"Aye," Henre replied, "That we will. We managed to stock the larders with wheat and flour in the spring, so we should hold out for the winter with bread, Sir. But the meat- there's just not enough of it. The Winter Fever outbreak took most of the livestock that was in the city. We had to kill off most of the rest to keep them from spreading it. It will be hard to man the walls with just stale bread in our stomachs, Sir."

"But there's little more we can do," Reginald replied. "Unless the siege is lifted, there will be no supplies of meat in Toure. Now, let us go"-

Their conversation was cut off by the morning bell calling the next shift of men to the walls. No matter how many mornings he woke to the sound, he could never get used to the harsh note.

It wasn't until he heard the commotion on the courtyard outside the window that he realized something was wrong.

He rushed out of the small antechamber into the main entry-hall of the Ducal residence in the keep. Already, a number of men were standing there with drawn swords. A man, covered in sweat and breathing heavily stood, hands on knees in the middle of the room, trying to catch his breath. When he saw the Duke, he immediately straightened, his face drawn with excitement?or fear.

"My Lord!" He began, tripping over the words in his haste, "The Gate? inside? Mercenaries!"

"Slow down, soldier," the Duke commanded. "Speak slowly!"

"The gate is breached!" the man stammered at last.

The room erupted into a hustle of action as captains of the city shouted in their confusion and shock. Some called out in despair, some in disbelief.

"Sound the alarm!" Henre finally managed to scream above the din.