... still at Montenegro...

On the evening of the siege's fourth day Eadgils thought the world had ended.
It was an evening of warm and limpid light. The air was pale-bright and the river slid gently its flowery banks where willows and alders grew. The Roman banners hung motionless above their tents. Some smoke still stifted from the burned houses out side of the castles walls to rise soft into the evening air.

The Nauarchos leaned on the ramparts. His bone harpoon was propped beside him as his thoughts drifted back to Sicilia, to his castle, to the fields behind the long barn where the hay would almost be ready for cutting.

The evening peace vanished in noise... Enemy troops started to change positions... That was not a good sign... especially not for Sicilia...