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Page 197
the wall. By then the load on the ladder had been sufficiently lightened that the men with thrusting poles could topple it.
Simon wiped his sword on his surcoat, no other cloth being immediately available, and resheathed it after an alert glance up and down his section of wall assured him there was no further danger of anyone getting up from a ladder. He was aware that the rain of crossbow bolts was much diminished; quarrels must be running out. In fact, it seemed that the attack as a whole was tapering off. Almost as soon as Simon was aware of the thought, he heard the blare of horns calling a retreat.
It was only then that Simon realized he was soaking wet with sweat. That seemed odd, for mornings in September were chilly enough, and aside from the little time he had been engaged with those men who had reached the battlements, he had not been exerting himself violently. Only it was not morning. Simon looked stupidly at the sun blazing down from the southwest. Two-thirds of the day had passed, and he had not been aware of it.
Recalled to the anxiety that had occupied him just before the attack began, Simon looked again toward the southwest, but lower. The siege towers had been withdrawn to a safe distance. Simon sighed, thinking of the captain who had led his men onto the wall and was now dead. Geoffrey was always at the head of his men also. Not Geoffrey, Simon prayed. Dear God, not Geoffrey. I will never be able to go home again. How could I look into Joanna's face? I should have been beside my brother, not supporting those who opposed him and enjoying myself.
With that fear, his own physical discomforts began to press on him. He became aware that his mouth was dry with thirst and his stomach ground with hunger. That was nothing, but if he sent a man to have food and drink brought up, he could also ask about

 
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