Brothers in Arms
Sancho finally did catch up to General Antunes, only a short distance over the border into Andalusia. He was glad to find the countryside largely untouched, and local peasants seemed uplifted more than scared of the Portuguese detachment. Of course that was not everyone's sentiment and the many locked or abandoned houses that greeted Sancho were evidence of that. Nonetheless upon arriving in the Portuguese camp, several days’ march from Seville the Castilian found his allies in good spirits. General Antunes seemed like a capable man, and the delivery of the letter from Juan would effect the uniting of the two armies. The rebels in the city would be caught in a vice and as long as the plan was maintained the catholic armies would not be defeated. The Portuguese along with Sancho set off early the next morning and the Castilian took the chance to get to know the General, and to glean what knowledge he could of military tactics from the capable Portuguese.
About mid-day Sancho took his leave of the fan and fell in with a small group of light cavalry. His heavy equipment was still a day or so behind the army, but with his sword, and a light buckler borrowed from a man who had taken ill he felt comfortable in this capacity. His first action came on the evening of that day when they launched a raid against a small Moorish held village about a days march north by west of Sevilla. The sun was beginning to set behind the men as their mounts trotted apprehensively towards the too quiet hamlet. Sancho and the Portuguese made about 25 men, while all reports of the enemy presence stated only ten or so soldiers and a handful of villagers. Apprehension riddled Sancho who was about to see real combat for the first time in his life, and the tentative demeanor of the Portuguese commander did nothing to reassure him. Ambush was thick in the air, and as such the order was made that the men split up, and approach the town from three sides. Sancho with seven of the older, more veteran riders moved up the left flank, rounding a tall grain store at a canter. As the first rider, just a few feet fore of Sancho turned the corner the whistle of an arrow came from straight ahead and in seconds a well-shot arrow impaled the man’s skull. The rider made no sound, but simply tilted sideways and fell like a rock from his now galloping mount.
"Sancho!" One of the grizzled veteran's screamed from the rear, getting Sancho's attention just in time for the Castilian to turn, and narrowly miss another arrow from the same direction. Now the whole of the Portuguese were around the building and one amongst them spotted the enemies position in a small farmhouse not far ahead. Impetuous, one of the Portuguese charged headlong, and the remainder including Sancho followed. It was not until they were close that a concerted salvo of arrows emerged from the building, one striking Sancho's horse beneath him, sending its rider hard over its head and in to the ground where he lay motionless. Around him the horses were closed on the building and with a shot from his crossbow the group's leader took down one of the Moorish archers. With their friend dead the men inside scrambled outside, and in a quick melee were mown down by the remaining riders. Sancho came to and sat up in the grass just in time to see the last infidel cut down some distance in the field off to his left. His head was throbbing and he was seeing everything through blurry eyes, but he could make out three dead men near him, obviously Portuguese riders. He tried to stand up, but could not find his legs and slowly lowered himself back on to the grass and closed his eyes.
"It is breached! All ahead, it is at hand!" Juan de Sessa screamed possessed as he jumped from his horse and charged head long towards the ruptured gate of the fortress. His sword flashed before him as he crossed the threshold amongst a group of Castilian knights who were pushing and stabbing at the rebels who had formed a deep phalanx just inside the gate. The crunch was terrible and the Marshall of Castile could not even wield his blade, but only push against his comrade in front of him, hoping to break the deadly gridlock. Screams and clanking metal sounded out all around him, but through it all he could hear only the thumping beat of his heart. The pushing continued to no seeming advantage as the Castilians would advance slowly forward, only to be pushed back again by a surge from their more lightly armed but more numerous enemies. Few men fell, but those that did were quickly trampled under foot of friend and foe. Juan tried to call out orders and take some charge, but it was to no avail as the scrum continued. The Marshall wondered how the Portuguese were faring, their siege equipment had seemed to be making an impression on the west walls, but Juan had heard nothing from his ally in some time, and now stock in the push for the gate he would only see them again when he made it inside.
It was just as Juan pondered this that the whistle of arrows sounded from overhead, and the crowd before him began to give way. The enemy was fleeing, and as their ranks broke the Castilian men at arms were free to wield their blades and in the chase wrought much carnage upon the Moorish renegades. As the Castilian soldiers continued their chase Juan paused to regroup, and looking back at the wall behind him spotted his saviors. A small group of Portuguese archers stood perched on the gate towers waving a flag of victory. Juan nodded appreciatively to their commander and made his way back to his horse. Mounted again he set off towards the city's center to reorganize his forces and prepare for the cleaning out of the city. He would need to act quickly to stop any looting and protect the bounty of the city. Juan wondered where Sancho was as he began barking orders to his lieutenants and looked for the Portuguese General.
Sancho had awoken the next day to a throbbing headache and the sounds of battle outside. He slowly and painfully stood up from the cot he found himself in and stumbled outside. There one of his fellow's spotted him and quickly came over. The man's arm was in a sling and his face and hands covered in dirt and blood. He spoke happily,
"Ahh, Sancho. I am glad that you've awakened, you've a nasty bump on your head but it seems you are well?" The man looked about him as he awaited Sancho's response, which was slow in coming as the Castilian tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain.
"I guess so," Sancho finally answered weakly, "What the hell is happening?"
"Ahh..." the man answered over the sound of a nearby cannon, "Es Sevilla, we arrived early this morning and the battle was quickly joined. Your brother and your countrymen are at the south gates, we stand on the west side and things go well for us, the wall is down and the enemy flees. Soon we shall have victory."
"What happened to you?" Sancho asked quickly his wits returning. The man answered dismissively looking at his arm.
"Ahh...I snapped it in the push at the gate, but we got through. You seem quite well for a man who's been in a coma for a full day, you sure you're all right?"
Sancho nodded and began to walk off towards the city, "I'm grand, I must see my brother. Are you okay to go on?"
The man stood his ground and shook his head, "I am to stay here and keep watch, but you go on ahead, and take this." The warrior tossed Sancho the sword that hung at his side with a smile and motioned towards the gates. "It is safe up to the gates, good luck finding your brother Sancho, farewell."
"Adios friend," Sancho answered as he turned quickly and jogged off towards the gates in search of his brother.
