"Sir Knight!" The call came from Percival's right. He was watching as the momentary breach on the east wall failed, the threat swiftly nullified by Grayle and his men. He looked over at Piran, the senior ranger who watched the other side of the fort. "Something is going on here Sir Knight, but I'm not quite sure what."

Percival walked over to join the man, his injured arm bound tightly to his body and watched as a small group of Saxons set up a shield wall at the junction of the south and west walls, directly below the tower from which the ballistae had recently been removed. As they did, the Saxon war chant suddenly raised in volume, the repeated cry of "Death" swamping the cries of men and the clashes of swords and shields. The tower was empty and the shields of the Saxons blocked the view from the hillside. Percival, becoming increasingly worried, decided to take action.

"Archers, form two groups. I want two volleys please: first group loose a volley into the Saxons; second group, count to two and then you shoot yours. On my mark," he paused, judging the moment and then, "mark!"

The first volley of arrows hammered into the shields of the Saxons. None penetrated but several Saxons lowered their shields to inspect the arrows, opening themselves to the second volley that followed mere seconds behind. As several of the men in the shield wall keeled over there was a brief glimpse of several more men behind. An axe fell, striking deep into the wood of the palisade before hastily raised shields once again covered what was going on behind them.

"Hell and damnation!" swore Percival. "Piran, send in a few more volleys to keep them on their toes. You," he tapped the arm of a nearby soldier. "Find King Arthur or King Mark, and tell them the southwest tower is being attacked by axes. Warn them to keep an eye out for others, then report back to me."

"Yes, sir!"

As the soldier sped off with the message, Percival moved back to check the east wall, stunned to see a similar scenario being played out on the opposite corner of the fortifications.

Movement at the back gate caught his eye and he noticed Morholt and the ballistae teams moving steadily up the hill towards them. Morholt had loaded the ballistae onto the rope and pulley system Merlin had designed to haul materials to the top of the hill and, apparently happy with the progress, was making his way up the slope toward Percival. As he did, Guinevere and Iseult joined Percival with the remaining few archers.

"Ladies," said Percival inclining his head in greeting. "Please have your men set up with the two lines here. My Queen, if you would take command of the west flank it would be much appreciated as it appears the Saxons are trying to breach the walls with axes. Piran will fill you in on the details."

Guinevere nodded, out of breath from the climb, moving away to the west with Iseult following in her wake.

"Sir Knight," Morholt joined him, nodding in greeting.

"Captain," said Percival. "I'm just awaiting news from the camp. After you left the towers, the Saxons seem to have used the advantage and launched a new and different style of attack. They're trying to breach the walls with axes."

Minutes later, the soldier tasked with taking the message arrived breathless at Percival's position. Once he'd regained his breath he appraised the knight of the situation. "Multiple attacks my lord, they have been using javelins to keep the defenders' heads down while they sneak up to the foot of the wall with axes. The men on the walls have been throwing over chunks of stone and whatever else they can lay their hands on, but it seems to be making little difference, as every time someone pokes their head above the wall, the javelins get thrown again. I think the Saxons have realised they cannot take the fort by frontal attack alone and have decided to get a little smarter. King Mark is stationed to the rear of the fort and intends to start the staged withdrawal shortly, he has asked you to watch for the start, try to keep the flanks clear, and concentrate your fire as discussed this morning."

"Thank you," said Percival. "Please re-join the defensive line here."

Percival, Guinevere, and Morholt watched as the defenders huddled behind the parapets, then Morholt pointed at the north side of the palisade as Merlin exited the rear gate. The old man was inspecting the apparatus located there and, looking up, he motioned to Morholt who made his way to join him.

"Breach!" came the alarmed shout as another flight of javelins thudded into the wall. The change in tactics by the Saxons had proven effective, their missiles keeping the defenders out of sight and unable to respond. With the archers withdrawn, only a few javelins had been retrieved by the defenders and thrown back when the opportunity arose.

Grayle, Joss, and their squad ran full tilt at the section of the wall where the breach had formed. As they approached, the wall began to sag, the weight of the men on the beams contributing to the damage as the Saxons continued to hack at the timbers forming the wall. The bank behind had slumped too, loose soil from the front of the wall spilling at the Saxon warriors' feet, further weakening the defences.

Mark moved forwards to talk with Arthur, as Grayle, Joss and the men arrived at the breach, countering another desperate insurgence by the attacking Saxons who swarmed over the damaged section.

"Arthur, we need to withdraw. Now," said Mark, pointing at the damage.

Arthur looked to the brawl threatening to spill over into the main area of the camp, and nodded, breathing hard, his face and armour spattered in blood.

Mark bellowed out a fresh string of orders, his parade ground voice carrying over the fighting. "Clear all ladders at the wall and retreat in ordered defence to the rear gate. Front wall, evacuate first, side walls close in and hold the line. Grayle, Joss, you will fall in, in front of us, in staged retreat."

The men on the walls roared in agreement. Defenders on the south wall surged to their feet, pushing away the creaking ladders presaging another Saxon attack. A flight of Javelins thudded into exposed flesh and shields, and several men fell, injured or dying. As the ladders fell, the defenders sprinted away from the fighting, heading for the rear gate and the steps leading to Percival's secondary line of defence up on the hill. As the hard-fought defenders from the south wall moved away, the remaining men on the two side walls fell back in a fighting line allowing their colleagues to withdraw, slowly working their way back to the rear gate.

Grayle, Joss, and the remaining men of the relief squad joined them in the fighting retreat, still desperately battling against the small group of braided warriors challenging them, the clash of steel, smell of blood and fear, and screams of the dying crowding the senses. The Saxons, scenting a victory, poured through the breach in the walls, widening the gap, and trampling the bank behind into a sloping access ramp to allow more warriors to make their way into the fight.

There was a roar from the men outside the walls as Oeric appeared on the south wall, his battleaxe flung high in salute to his father's men. "Death!" he roared at the defenders, pointing his axe at Arthur who still fought on the front line.

Most of the men had made it safely from the fort, streaming up the hill towards Percival. Some he directed to the upper fort to make ready, and assist the skeleton force left there during the initial attack. Others he directed to join the row of kneeling pikemen in front of archers.

Mark joined him, puffing, as he made his way up to the pikemen. "It's down to Arthur and the boy now," he panted.

They watched as the line slowly contracted, battling furiously as the Saxons continued to pour into the camp until there were only three men still fighting, standing next to each other in the gap forming the gate.

"What the hell is that crazy old bastard doing now?" said Mark.

They watched as Merlin sidled up behind the fighting trio, hidden from view by Arthur's broad shoulders. There seemed to be some brief communion and, following a brief flurry of blades, Grayle and Joss swiftly stepped back through the gate. As they did, Merlin stepped in front of Arthur producing a blood-curdling screech that appeared to freeze the attackers in their tracks.

Arthur, who had stepped behind the old man, grabbed hold of his rope belt, bodily throwing the old man back into the waiting arms of Joss, shouting "Now!" as he did. Morholt, who had been standing on the other side of the opening, slammed a hand axe into the rope supporting the heavy gate.

As Arthur smiled benignly at the Saxons in the front row of the fighting force, the solidly constructed gate slammed shut from the outside, and a hefty beam was lifted into place to barricade it.

"Run!" shouted Morholt, and Grayle, Joss, Arthur, Morholt, and Merlin scrambled up the slope to join the rest of the defenders.

"Ready!" called Percival. He watched as the remaining five cleared the lower steps and then gave the order. "Loose!"

"Rapid fire, in your own time!" he added, watching as arrows rose and fell from the line of archers on the slopes. The Saxons, now trapped inside the fort, hastily raised their shields and cowered, seeking cover wherever they could as the arrows rained from the skies. More and more warriors continued to pile into the fort through the breach, trapping their comrades as Oeric roared orders at them to stop and fall back. For several minutes, the fort was turned into a killing field as the archers sustained their barrage.

Eventually, Oeric made himself heard, and the call to retreat passed through the Saxon forces, becoming a rout as the crowd cleared, the remaining men dashing away from their wood-walled doom with their shields raised over their heads.

"Cease!" called Percival as the last few men dashed away, Arthur and Grayle moving to join them.

"Well, that worked fairly well," said Arthur grinning from ear to ear.

Merlin puffed to a halt beside him. "You weren't the one being thrown around like some sort of rag doll," he muttered ungraciously. "You damn near snapped me in half."

"Sorry Merlin, but I thought you were heavier than that," he said smiling at the man. "What the hell was that noise you made, it was utterly inhuman?"

"I based it on the sound you used to make as a child when you wanted something you couldn't have," he said triumphantly, leaving a red-faced Arthur open-mouthed behind him as he walked away.

"Always thought that was a good idea of mine to have a drop gate on the back wall," said Mark, trying unsuccessfully not to smile at Arthur's embarrassment. "Although it was Merlin's idea to re-rig the rope and pulley system."

Merlin, after talking to Morholt, wandered back over to Mark and Arthur. "We need to render the winch system inoperative," he said without preamble. "Anything we can do to slow them down and keep them away from our last line of defence is worth doing. I've had the spare miners busy for the last few days making caltrops, so I'll get some of the soldiers sprinkling them on the lower slopes. Those and the line of stakes we have here should slow them down."

Mark nodded, consenting to the plan, and watched as Merlin and Morholt moved off together, discussing details and ordering their thoughts.

"How long do you think we have Mark?" asked Arthur quietly.

"Before they attack again?"

Arthur nodded.

"I don't think it'll be long. They know they have only a couple of days before we expect reinforcements from the southwest, and the Franks who've attacked the south won't take long to repel, they were just a distraction. It's just a case of who falls first now. We've lost over a hundred men in the first attacks, but those are likely to be the lesser warriors, those unused to battle, or just unlucky. The ones we have left are the fighters, but sadly I think we've only taken out about four hundred of Hengist's two thousand. We're still massively outnumbered, and we haven't killed enough of them yet. I suspect we've probably wounded a similar number of Hengist's men though, as the fire and the arrows will have taken their toll.

"Hengist and Oeric will now be desperately trying to motivate them to storm our position, although if they have any sense they will immediately try and outflank us to the east. Gawain is still out there on the west somewhere and will hopefully be looking out for supply trains from the south too. He's a good lad, so I think we can rest assured he'll be doing everything he can to disrupt things. They won't bother with the lower fort now until they've driven us back up to the top of the hill. They may occupy it as a secure base at that point, but its breached state, and limited size, will not be able to house and protect the whole Saxon army. We're heading into the afternoon now, so I suspect they will make one massive effort before bedding down for the night. Come nightfall, we will have little choice but to retreat to the top of the hill, or try and reoccupy the bottom fort. I personally think retreat is the better option, as the top fort is more secure. Attacking uphill is never nice."

"Aye," said Arthur, I'd rather be up there than looking up at this thing," he gestured expansively at the mound.

"Percival," said Arthur, "are you happy keeping watch?"

"Yes, my King," said Percival. "Why?"

"Because it's a nice warm day and I fancy a nap. Tell Guinevere where I am if you see her please."

Arthur wandered a little way up the slope and lay down in the sun, a smile on his face as the warmth soaked into his skin. Many of the veterans had already taken the same course of action, and now lay peacefully snoring behind the lines.

"How can they sleep at a time like this?" demanded Grayle of his father.

"Always grab sleep where you can lad, you never know when you're going to be fighting. Apparently, it works with parenting as well," noted Percival absently. Mark yawned hugely and wandered away to find a spot in the sun as Guinevere and Iseult walked over to the quickly reducing group.

"Arthur?" said Guinevere.

"He's back there having a snooze," said Pervical.

"Ah, I might've known," she said and walked over to the slumbering king, lying down beside him and touching his face affectionately before closing her eyes.

"Hmm, that looks like a good idea," said Iseult laying her head on Grayle's shoulder. "Come on, you need to relax and get some sleep too."

"Yes ma'am," he said quietly, prompting a chuckle from Percival, and a glare from Iseult.

"Go on you two, take a few minutes to yourselves, we'll keep watch." Percival watched as Iseult led Grayle away by the hand to an empty area of grass nearby, smiling to himself as he turned back to face the Saxons massing beyond the fort, the swarm of warriors glinting metallically on the blackened grass.

"Take a few minutes," he muttered softly to himself, his smile drifting away with the gentle wind, "it might be all you have."