Chapter 9

The wind howled through the trees, carrying the distant echoes of an approaching storm. Not of rain or thunder, but of hooves and steel. From the top of my fortified encampment, the waiting stretched taut, an invisible rope of war ready to snap. I stood at the edge of the crudely made wooden walls, my gaze fixed on the lone path that opened up into the field before me. The only entrance. The only escape. The trap was set, and all that remained was the enemy's arrival.

Raymon stood beside me, shifting on his feet. Nervous energy radiated from him, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

"Are you sure about this?" he muttered, voice low but insistent. "There's still time for you to retreat to Saraqustah."

"Enough," I snapped, my patience worn thin. "I will not hear another word of doubt."

"You're nineteen," Raymon pressed. "You have never fought a battle like this or ever. Let me lead the men."

"You forget your place," I said, with determination in my voice. "Another word, cousin, and you will join the prisoner in a cell."

Raymon's mouth opened, then shut. His hands clenched into fists, but he turned away, moving further down the wall. Let him stew and choke on his words. There was no room for weakness now. Then suddenly.

A scout thundered toward the gates, his horse lathered in sweat, his back riddled with arrows. Open the gate, I said. The gate was quickly opened and shut; he bearly made it before slumping forward, nearly falling from the saddle.

"They're here," he gasped. "They come..... at full speed."

 I looked around at the men's faces. They were scared, so was I but I could not show it, I dare not.

"When the Commander loses his spine all hopeless lost",... my Fathers words rang in my ear.

"Hold fast," I yelled out. "We will not break today!"

I barely had time to order my men to carry him to the infirmary before the first distant tremors of hooves reached the soles of my feet and then my ears. As I looked up out into the distance to see one soldier clad in black, his mount kicking up dust as he paused at the entrance to the field. He observed for a moment looking right back at me, atop my walls. Only one, but I hear so many, were are they I said. Sir Luke, who was standing right next to me answered. There hear, he said in a low rumble. 

 Archers, I yelled out, knock!

The single soldier went riding back out of sight. Then suddenly. Thousands of mounted horse archers wearing black came marauding towards us. Their horse hooves sounded like relentless drums against the earth. The enemy was hear.

Loose!! I screamed. The battle had begun.

The first volley struck home, men screamed as arrows found flesh.

I waited. We needed every last one of the enemy inside the field before the next step of my plan could unfold. The moment the final rider crossed into the clearing, I raised my arm and gave the signal.

Flaming arrows soared into the sky.

Sir Donovan, waiting in the forest with his hidden forces, gave the order. Logs tumbled down the hills, crashing onto the narrow pathway, sealing the only exit. The tar-soaked wood caught fire instantly, a wall of flame cutting off any chance of retreat. The enemy was trapped.

From the treeline, my hidden infantry surged forward, armed with pikes and shields. The horse archers, so deadly in open space, found themselves pinned in, unable to maneuver.

More arrows rained down. A soldier beside me let out a heart wrenching cry, an arrow buried deep in his eye socket. Even in this chaos, their archers were still deadly accurate to land a shot so spot on, these were no ordinary horse archers. He toppled from the wall. I barely flinched. No time for grief. No time for anything but war.

I reached down, grabbing the fallen man's flag—the signal to commence the final assault. Raising it high, I waved it with all my might. I saw Raymon at the side of my eye, taking cover. I snickers to myself I am the woman and I have more courage who's not fit to rule now I thought. He should've left with his mother.

An arrow struck my right shoulder. Pain ripped through me, but I refused to fall. I broke off the shaft, breath hissing through my teeth. As a archer who was hit in the chest crashed into me.

I fell from the top of the wall onto my back. The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, but the fall wasn't far. Nothing broken. I forced myself up, gripping my injured shoulder, and turned my thoughts back to the battlefield.

The trap had been sprung.

Sir Donovan's men crashed into the enemy. The encampment gates stayed closed waiting to unleashing another wave of soldiers.

The horse archers, their mobility stolen, had no choice but to fight in close quarters. There advantage was gone. The tide was turning.

Sir Luke appeared at my side helping me up to my feet. "give me your sword Sir Luke I must join the fight." I said

"No." He grabbed my uninjured arm. "They must see you standing, not falling. You are their strength. Stay here my lord atop the wall."

There was no time to argue, I could hear the screams of war just on the other side. I would take his council.

Luke helped me back to my feet and up onto the wall once more, he shoved a shield in my hand. "You must be seen, high as a beacon of hope. I will help you stand", Luke said frantically.

I wanted to argue, but he was right. It took literally no time for the shield to be pumped full of arrows, some piercing straight through into my left forearm. I winced at the pain, screaming, even as Luke held me up, ensuring I did not fall. He was my spine when my spine gave way. To this day, I do not know how I managed to stay on my feet—perhaps it really was Sir Luke holding me up.

I looked around and found Raymon, still hiding like a coward or maybe he was just being smart... arrows were whistling all around his head after all.

"Raymon!

You must lead the front charge in my stead," I commanded. "I must be seen for all the men; they must know their Lord has not left them."

He hesitated but ultimately obeyed without question. giving me a stern face and a nod of his head as a jolted in to action.

"Men, with me!" he shouted, jumping off the wall, unsheathing his sword, mustering the spirits of the men before they joined the fray.

"Don't die on me up there... my Duchess. he said sarcastically"

I smiled. "You don't either, cousin," I rebutted, just as an arrow nearly knocked me and Luke off the wall.

"Open the front gate!" he yelled. The command was relayed back to the soldiers operating it.

And just like that, all of my forces were in play. It was up to the courage of the men and God to win the day,

The battle raged for hours I honestly lost count. After a while, no arrow struck my shield, but I still stood there Screaming and howling out to my men not to give up, not to give in fight, fight!

It all seemed like a blur, a bloody muddy mosh pit of bodies. The rain from yesterday made the ground even more difficult for the enemy on horseback to move. Many of them were ripped from their horses and slain.

Then, in the midst of the carnage, a white flag rose from the middle of the enemy's ranks. A horn sounded. They are surrendering.

In that moment, I quickly sounded a cease to the fighting. It had happened precisely as Ruben imagined, I will only have one chance at this I said to myself.

Blood dripped from my wounds. My shield had taken more arrows than I could count, but I remained standing, shield raised, defiance etched into every Muscle of my body. It took Sir Luke and three other soldiers to pry the shield from my forearm. They first had to pull out the arrows, which was excruciating luckily Sir Luke gave me a handkerchief to bite down on. I almost fell unconscious over the pain.

My Duchess, a random soldier came running up. I have word from their leader he wishes to parlay. Good send him to my tent.

Will you try for a white piece, my Duchess, said Sir Luke now is the time.

We had fought hard for this opportunity and now fortune is finally on our side after countless lives has been spent. I cannot let their death be in vain. This invasion must come to an end one way or the other I thought.

An Arab man wearing black robes, was being escorted towards my tent, and I, ever so mangled poked full of arrows, had to quickly fashion myself for the meeting demanding my handmaidens to quick fetch something domineering. In the end, I was quickly unarmored and changed into simple yet elegant noble clothing to match my standing as commander.

A few moments past and the general known as

Tariq ibn Ziyad was brought before me, walking under his own power.

No chains.

No force.

I had ordered it so. He was a dignified fellow in Black robes like his men. Bearded with a scar on the left side of his chin.

He met my gaze. So you must be the woman that was screaming above the wall. Surely it was you I see your wounds. I ordered my men to focus you down, but you never relented.

I stayed silent as he questioned me.

I see….

"Where is Afentis? He has bested me. What is to be my fate?"

I answered as sternly and clearly as possible, I must be seen as Strong now, not weak.

"Afentis is dead. I am his heir and the one who has defeated you. Please, have a seat."

His expression barely shifted, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

Surprise?

Resentment?

Respect?

I could not tell.

He sat in the chair with elegance, a true Islamic noble I thought; his posture remained rigid.

"A woman," he murmured. "An honorable one at that. You could have killed us all." Then he ask me again.

"What is to be my fate?"

"Mercy," I said. "We will have peace."

No, I cannot offer a true piece for I am under orders to conquer you.

A white piece then, ten years I quickly interjected.

He paused and looked at me, obviously pondering my proposition.

"Your presence on top of that wall was truly something. My men could not kill you and you would not fall."

Like an African lioness protecting her Cubs. You demoralize my men without shooting a single arrow.

I did what I had to do to keep my men's spirits high; I said. as I did my best to not show pain reaching for a sip of wine. My wounded shoulder screamed in pain, but I hid my wincing with my cup covering most of my face.

Can I offer you a cup of wine?

The general nodded in agreement as my cup bearer, a young woman that was one of my handmaiden's came from the side of the room with a cup and wine to fill it. He took the entire cup in one big gulp. And rest the cup on the table.

Eight years, I cannot agree to ten it is not within my power, but eight, eight years is what I believe my master would accept. What do they call you anyway?

My name is Justine Orwil the Duchess of Saraqustah. I replied.

Hmmm, No you have earned a better name after today.

The lioness of Saraqustah is more appropriate.

I paused saying nothing.

Eight years then and you will leave the Iberian Peninsula at once.

Yes you have my word, may Allah bless us all.

I will send a detachment to escort you or your men to the coast.

Tariq seemed taken it back by my due diligence.

"I should be off then;" he stood up, fixing his robes and bidding me farewell.

But before he left with my guards, he turned to look at me once more, and said, your quality will be known among your enemies, wherever you might meet them. Justine Orwil, The lioness of Saraqustah.

I am the Duchess, I said.

he simply smiled and went on his way.

And with that, the day was won.