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Page 193
accurate and could be fired twice or three times as fast. Simon reached back and drew an arrow from his quiver. Officiously a serf stepped before him holding the wicker shield. Simon pushed the man away.
"Idiot! They are not near enough to fire yet. Stand aside. When I need shelter, I will seek it."
Almost on the words the first flight of arrows rose, glinting in the light of the early sun. The serf began to move and Simon snarled at him. Similar growlsand some sharp blowscould be heard all along the wall. The experienced archers could see that the initial volley was exploratory, loosed more to judge distance and windage than in hope of hitting anything. Only about a fifth of the men had fired, and all of the shafts had fallen short. The men on the walls smiled grimly. They had all the advantage at this point and knew it.
A second flight of crossbow bolts rose. This time a few clattered against the walls before they fell. One even passed through a crenel opening, but it was spent and could not have hurt a man even if it hit him. Close enough, Simon thought, and lifted and drew his bow, stepping into a crenel opening briefly to aim and fire, and then moving back behind the serf's extended shield just as a third volley of quarrels, much denser, flew skyward.
To the right, Simon heard one of his men shout, but he had not been struck. He was apparently angered because he had missed his aim. Simon roared at him to take shelter and not be a fool, as he drew and nocked another arrow. Some of these crack men were a little too proud of their skill and tended to be unwisely contemptuous of crossbowmen. The short quarrels could not be aimed very precisely, but if enough of them were fired, that scarcely mattered.
As if to prove Simon's point, cries of pain began to ring out here and there on the wall. The next volley from below was even denser. One of Simon's men

 
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