OUR ARMY WAITED just two hundred yards from the towering walls of Bord in a broad and teeming line.

Archers tensed their bows, fire arrows tipped in oil. Foot soldiers, some holding ladders like crosses, focused on the walls, on the line of silent green-and-gold defenders.

A thousand men, cradling their weapons, muttering last prayers, awaited my sign.

What are you thinking now? Odo asked.

I took a breath. That Emilie is in there... And you?

That those are the biggest fucking walls I've ever seen. The smith shrugged.

I fixed on the impressive main gate, waiting for Stephen's reply. Odo to my left, Georges, Daniel, and Alphonse flanked to my right. The tension beat around like a drum of war.

Stephen's defenders crowded the walls, crossbows tilted down at us. There were no taunts or curses rattling back and forth, only a heavy silence hanging like a fog between the two armies. In the distance, the chirp of birds could be heard. Any moment, the tense calm would be shattered like a club smashing through glass.

Odo leaned close, clutching his enormous pike. One of the Languedocians told me a good one. You have the time to hear?

I kept my eyes fixed on the gate. If I must.

What's hairy underneath, stands tall and erect in a bed, has reddish skin, and is guaranteed to make even a nun cry out in tears?

I looked down the line. Everyone was ready. I don't know.

The big smith shook his head. Don't know? What kind of a shit jester are you? It's a wonder I keep putting my life in your hands.

If you put it that way... I cocked my head his way. It's an onion.

............