“Excellently,” said the captain. “We have lost about forty men already.”
Conachúr stared at him.
“How did that happen?”
“It happened because of the king’s royal decision to lodge these men in a fortress.”
“You have five hundred men here!”
“When they are all killed,” said the captain sourly, “we can call out another five hundred.”
“What is the difficulty?” his master growled.
“A fortress with six doors. They leap in and out of these doors the way frogs leap in a pool. While we are using the ram on this door they make a sally by another door, this door, any door—and they are the devil’s own fighters! We don’t know where to expect them, and any one of those within is the equal of ten of our men in fighting, and the superior of them all in tricks. I am to have them out before morning—it is the king’s orders, but I don’t know how it is to be done.”
“Ram all the doors,” said Conachúr.
“I have but one ram. I can get others to-morrow.”