You do not like the idea of fighting thorugh a narrow passage, but whatever force you send to plant the charge below that gatehouse will be half dead before it even reaches the gate. Though you can't be sure how well-armed their guards are, the usage of guns even by the volunteers your army had been offered tells you plenty about the dissemination of firelocks in this region.

No, you've a far better plan.

"Troops! At Gallop!"

At your words, your forces set off, splitting into two as you veer right, far away from the gatehouse and into the long stretch of flat wall. Had they placed another guardsman's tower within that expanse, you might have had to deal with marksmen, but as it is, you are free. Your knights rush towards the wall, the sun rising upon your heads as the thundering of hundreds of horses fills your ears. Yet the enemy does not fire, far out of their firing arcs as you are. Indeed, this must certainly be a new town if their defenses are so shoddy and badly planned.

Arriving near the wall unhurt, you waste no time in ordering one of your men, whom you had trusted the powder charge with, to set it down near the wall. Hopping from his horse, the man hurriedly sprints to the palisade, your men retreating a bit so as to not be hit by the splinters and jagged pieces of wood that will fly when the keg goes off.

The man sets off the long fuse, and immediately begins running away, quickly mounting his horse and galloping towards your group. It is almost done; you look away from the wall!

The following moment, your world is shaken. The sound, right besides you, is as loud as several cannons, and the light, if constant, would have certainly been enough to bling a man. The sound of crushed, twisted wood flying does not escape you - if any man had been close to that wall, he would have been as dead as one subject to a fusilade.