Excerpt…
Provins, October, 1325
“How high is the rock, do you think?” Shasha said.
“Five times the height of the towers of St. Mark’s, and that’s just the rock,” Firas said.
Everyone’s eyes raised to what grew from the top of the rock. On a ledge close to the summit many tiny houses had been carved from the white rock of the precipice and roofed with orange tiles. Above them was the castle.
Johanna swallowed. It increased the height of the freestanding ridge by a third. There were a dozen towers of varying sizes and shapes, sides pierced with multiple arrow slits. The towers were connected by a thick, high wall, built from more white rock. The wall was topped with a battlement defended by a parapet. Even at this distance she could see movement through the crenellations in the parapet. Guards. Ten spearmen that they knew of, but how many more? Inside the wall roofs of buildings could be glimpsed, including a large square keep. Another wall ran around the village to connect with the castle wall on either side. Because of the differences in elevation the doors into both were easy to identify. Neither looked welcoming.
L’Arête wasn’t just impregnable. It was unassailable. All its defenders had to do was lock the doors and rain down death on their enemies with mangonels, one of which was in plain view on the south end of the prominence.
They slid back down and gathered in a circle beneath a clump of cypress. Even Jaufre looked shaken.
“How are we going to get in there?” Alma said.
“How are we going to get out again?” Alaric said.
Dana sez–
Well. If it was easy, anyone could do it.
I took the inspiration for L’Arête from Les Baux, the legendary lair of the Wolves of Orange, whose alledged actions I allowed to inform the character and behavior of The Blade. I’ve visited twice. It provides the perfect defensive position, and it has one of the best views in Europe.
