by J R Marshall
I searched the sky. Would there be a moon? Would it rain? Just how dark would it be? Bloody hell.
Nandrosphi looked miserable; the prospect of sleeping in the open without a fire surrounded by the empty moorland troubled him, as well it ought.
Should I move him towards the centre? Nandrosphi, wife and children maybe a distraction, impede my judgement. Yes, I will. And I did.
At around four hours before midnight, we rejoined the body of the camp. Nandrosphi wanted to skirt to the left and try and squeeze closer to what he perceived as a more advantageous position, except I knew it wasn’t and in the end he took my counsel.
We stayed the wagon ten feet from the edge of the road, the last in line. The most northerly, stranglers shuffled past us but I wanted to be near the patrolled road.
The oxen were allowed an hour to feed on the coarse grasses with particular attention to the least healthy animal. The beasts were watered using existing store, for there was no wandering off road in search of a stream.
Less than three hours before midnight, for I also insisted on being fed, the temporary fire was extinguished and looking up I observed the moon scarcely a sliver being obscured by passing clouds.
Nandrosphi fussed around his belongings, secured the tarpaulin to conceal most of his possessions, all he owned in the world, and I was patient understanding his anxiety.
Eventually I led them inwards towards Grimnir’s position, fully laden. My back pack and cloak were worn and I looked like a deformed character, a massive hunch on my back, but I cared not for my appearance.
After the first one hundred yards it became easier for other fires dotted around provided sufficient light for humans to see and reaching somewhere near the middle, adjacent to a soldiers’ encampment and not far from Grimnir, I settled them down, telling the soldiers to leave them alone, someone recognised me, it was sufficient.
Few wished to leave their wagons unguarded and as I headed back fearful glances were passed in my direction; it was going to be a sleepless night. Some soldiers looked at me, one even greeted. I didn’t know him, but I guessed they had all heard of the skirmish the night before. I wasn’t going to be the only one not sleeping.
Arriving at the last campfire I found a priest with a slow-moving cart that had become stuck in mud earlier and was now paying the price for coming in last. In meditation, no doubt praying to his little god.
I looked up the north road from whence we had come. Nandrosphi’s wagon stood alone as a forlorn sentinel, seemingly inviting, ready to be plundered, yet with the greatest protection of all, me!
It was slightly difficult to locate a dry area of heather on which to lie down but eventually I secured a suitably elevated spot, my back resting against a high-sided slab of rock, an overhang some fifteen feet tall. Draping my cloak over my mail and placing my great two-handed axe to one side, I settled down for a long night.
Now despite being quick to anger, I was actually in many ways patient, so as the hours passed I found my thoughts drifting but amiably through some of the lessons in craft that Tam had recommended I need to remember, ‘So it becomes second nature to you,’ she had said.
There was movement by the wagon. I had caught it in the corner of my eye, but watching it turned out to be a badger, followed by another and then a third. Good, for these creatures were wary and it boded well.
The night passed slowly and mercifully without rain. I could see across the moors, the far side of the road, and looking northwards there was nothing heading our way. Nothing disturbed the peace, the night was still, yet a small alarm sounded in the distant subconscious part of my brain. I became pensively engaged, attuned to the stillness; nothing was wrong, but that was it, there should always be something.
My hand hovered over the ground, so instinctively did I want to, not just touch, but listen to the song, scarcely caressing the ground as though testing my control. I could sense the power, the sensual pleasure, only needing to let my mind go, but I dare not, my mind had momentarily almost drifted, it would be so easy to fall.
Time passed slowly, and I must have been wrong for whilst all seemed too quiet I forgave my heightened senses. I had expected trouble and figments of imagination had sought to misdirect my mind. I had simply overanalysed; maybe Grimnir was right and we had seen the worst of it already. Tomorrow we would travel in day light, and by nightfall, we would be well within the guarded territory of Hedgetown’s soldiers.
Looking around the road was quiet, the moors devoid of trespass, and the badgers had gone. An owl screeched overhead, its flight silent, just the cry catching me off guard. There was someone walking near Nandrosphi’s wagon. I watched.
He wasn’t a shadow, for I could see him clearly, albeit the details of his face too far away, but the manner of his circling the wagon, as a thief might stalk a provisioner, looking for opportunity. It wasn’t Nandrosphi for the mannerisms were wrong. He stopped, looking to see if anyone was watching.
Oh well, something’s happening tonight. I stood up one hundred yards out in the pitch black invisible to most, and grabbing my cloak, walked as quietly as I could. The campfires were subdued; many had allowed the logs to burn away unreplenished for none wanted to venture out looking for firewood. Yet as I approached I could hear a low-level background noise from the camp. Many had stayed awake this night, and now some half an hour before dawn they wouldn’t sleep.
My boots, part shod with iron, were fairly noiseless, for I walked on the heather beside the road, watching the man. He re-approached the wagon and proceeded to untie a corner of the tarpaulin and remove some boxes and rope, laying them on the ground.
He touched something hanging from his hand, what I thought looked like a lantern, and a narrow beam of light shone under the tarpaulin cover.
Half closing the door of his lamp, and walking around the wagon he removed several items hung on the side and returning to the corner, laying them next to the box, proceeded to crawl beneath the cover, a faint glow from his lamp, possibly a shuttered lantern.
Got the bastard. And I walked very quickly ready to run if need be, so that as I approached and my feet crunched upon the ground, the little shit would be caught.
The man squealed and protested, demanding that I release him, that this was his wagon and he had every right to be there.
I threw him to the ground, stamped on his leg, hopefully breaking it, and, whilst he screamed, drew my sword and with the flat of my blade knocked him unconscious.
Using the rope he himself had found I bound him by hands and feet and proceeded to return all the other items as best I could. Nonetheless, I was sure not everything was stowed correctly.
The camp had gone silent. “Now look what you’ve done,” looking down at the trussed-up man, indeed he had his legs and hands tied together so I could have cooked him like a chicken.
Five soldiers arrived, running with swords drawn. “Late once again,” I said, “I’ve simply caught a thief.”
They looked around and then after perhaps half an hour enquiring of the details, they left. The greyness of early morning, similar to my dark vision, cast shadowy illumination across the moors. Dawn was upon us and heralded by the chorus of birds. We had survived without mishap.
As Nandrosphi and his family arrived, the thief was been carried away hung over the side of a pony, for I had indeed successfully broken his leg, and he had been unable to walk.
Nandrosphi looked with disgust at the man, and swearing, struck him in the face. “Well done Miller, glad you broke his leg, the bastard’s lucky to be alive. You should also have chopped his hands off.”
“Sorry! Next time I’ll try and do better.” I was slightly surprised by my host’s animosity but nodded in agreement.
The camp was making ready, and Nandrosphi’s wife was preparing my breakfast; last night’s short-lived fire was resurrected. She seemed somewhat more willing, perhaps I deserved her dedication for she was frying sausages, the last of my steak, and bread dipped in goose fat.
“How’s the ox today.” I watched as the boys assisted with the yoke and hoop.
“Better, much better, but we need to have a proper noon stop.”
“Are we free of attack now, and do we need to set off early?” Nandrosphi asked with a more cheerful disposition than he had had for much of the journey.
“Yes I think so, but we ought still to try and leave before the others.”
I was wrong on both accounts.
CHAPTER 7
As the oxen were ready and we were starting from the back we set off before even the most adventurous, passing others only belatedly starting their preparations.
A soldier greeted me, a man scowled at me, others disinterested, we advanced through the assembling caravan. There was a mood of optimism in the air; fires were being extinguished, people weren’t rushing as frenetically as the previous day, certainly there was less urgency.
Grimnir rode up and joined me as Nandrosphi looked on in admiration. “Another quiet night for you, Miller,” he said, and, “hopefully this day will progress smoothly.”
“You’re up and about early, Lord.” I swapped placed with Nandrosphi so I was closer.
“Well you weren’t the only one who didn’t sleep last night, I suspect half the camp was awake, although I caught a soldier sleeping on duty.”
“Oh! What will happen to him?” For I’d heard of soldiers losing their lives, or being flogged half to death, for falling asleep on watch was a serious offence.
“He’ll be beaten by his sergeant and thrown in prison for six months, then probably discharged, it depends if there are mitigating circumstances.”
“Are there ever?” I asked curiously.
“Sometimes, but probably not in this case, I don’t know.”
We chatted about numerous issues and where I might lodge in Hedgetown, the ‘Water Rat’ was suggested, and of course the admonition not to get within ten feet of the hedge.
After about twenty minutes for the oxen were slow, and weaving between the various pitches slowed us to a crawl. I reached out and touched Grimnir’s left arm.
“Lord, the troubles may have just begun.” For ahead of us three large wagons lay stranded.
Grimnir tarried with us until we drew level; the merchants were shouting amongst themselves, for six of twelve draught horses lay on their side, unable to rise, and two others looked decidedly shaky.
Grimnir looked at me. “I agree, there will be a diversion, and the caravan must keep moving. Do you want to face the feint or the night-time defence? For I think I’ll not be in Hedgetown by nightfall.”
“There must be alternatives?”
“Janras,” I stood up and bellowed. “Where’s Janras? You there,” beckoning to a man standing near, “where is Janras?”
“Janras is one of these merchants, I need to ask him something,” quickly glancing at Grimnir.
Grimnir moved off to the side, seeking a better look, as Janras approached whilst simultaneously having a heated argument with two of his fellow travellers, but noticing Grimnir dashed away to meet him.
“Stay here,” I said to Nandrosphi, as I jumped down and headed to where Janras had gone.
Four of the giant horses were sound, enough to haul one wagon, but of the others; two were in no fit state to haul anything, three had died, and the remaining three unable to get to their feet were possibly at death’s door.
“You can’t just yoke mules next to horses, it doesn’t work like that,” one man was saying, “and besides the harnesses won’t match.”
“Silence,” shouted Grimnir.
And I, ignoring him, asked Janras, “Where are your guards, the ones I met yesterday?”
“Gone, Miller, I fear your suspicions were right.” A look of consternation and despair was written across his face.
Rumours spread fast around the camp ranging from, ‘Disaster, we’ll all be delayed,’ to, ‘Well those rich merchants can afford it, they wouldn’t have waited for us.’
Five soldiers were picketed around Grimnir to keep the merchants and others at bay.
“Miller and my sergeants are to attend me.” He gave instructions for the caravan to proceed with caution, ten soldiers at the near front, and they were to head off.
Whilst Grimnir waited for his sergeants to arrive I spoke to Nandrosphi.
“Master, are you not travelling with me?” He looked worried and for once his wife sat closer, listening to what was being said.
“You know we discussed where the greatest wealth was in the caravan?” and Nandrosphi nodded towards the three stranded wagons.
“Well they’re the target for what is going to happen.” I briefly explained that there would be a small attack on the front of the convoy, but that it was deceit, a diversion.
“You must be near the front but not too advanced, better to lose ground, you’ll still be well clear of any conflict.” I hoped that it was true.
“There’ll be ten soldiers most of the time plus a sergeant taking you to Hedgetown.”
“But not you.” He looked in abject misery.
“I don’t know yet, but possibly, it depends upon His Lordship.” And with that I told him to advance slowly, touching my weapons, checking I was complete. “All the better for my catching up with you.” And I rejoined Grimnir.
Two of his sergeants had arrived, and as I joined Grimnir, he sent one away to lead at the front.
“Lord, can we not offload merchandise onto other travellers, or perhaps transfer the most valuable cargo out of the three onto the one remaining serviceable wagon?”
“We can and we shall, but I still want to face those bastards that did this, these would-be thieves.”
There were numerous discussions about diverting resources between two sections but in the end Grimnir took me aside.
“If we send all the men to the front, and leave nothing here save ourselves, the caravan will reach Hedgetown, the merchants will lose their least valuable part of the cargo, although still considerable, and we would at least make a fabulous fight of it. What say you, Miller? You could prove yourself in a real fight. After all, goblins don’t really count, not even twenty-four of them.”
“Twenty-seven, you sod.” And I laughed. “But if it’s just the two of us we might lose.”
“You think so? It won’t be an army, just a handful of men, probably eight or so.”
“Let’s do it, but I gave my word to Nandrosphi I’d see his family safe to Hedgetown, I want him protected with two of his own guards.”
“Sod that, Miller, why would you be so kind?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’ll owe me loads, and I need a place to crash out or store my possessions. After all, I can’t knock on your gates and ask to speak to my friend Lord Grimnir.”
“Ha! Yes I see, very wise, I’ll give him two, you want to tell him, take the credit.”
“I do.”
Arrangements were made, the merchants remonstrated with Grimnir, and argued amongst themselves, but after an hour delay, for Grimnir had told them the grim facts. “Either cooperate of lose everything, for the caravan will set off immediately and you can take your chances.” There was, after much angst, a resignation to their plight, an acceptance of reality and begrudging compliance.
The guards had been warned to expect a light but noisy attack at the front, but regardless of what might befall, they were not to return for the wagons, nor offer relief to Grimnir and I.
Torak and Elranir begged to stay behind and fight alongside their lord, but Grimnir, taking them aside had honoured their courage and impressed upon them that their greater worth lay in securing cohesion and discipline within the main body.
Upon reaching Hedgetown, they were to bring eight draught horses back, with suitable harnesses should size dictate and relieve Grimnir and myself with a force of men.
They were not to search for us, for if the wagons were not intact they were to return. Men must be preserved; there would be no heroic rescue, none at all, it was impresse
d upon them. They knew their duty.
Nandrosphi was introduced to his two guards, and whilst my authority was non-existent, Grimnir had graciously walked over and in no uncertain terms ordered them to the protection of Nandrosphi and his family, whilst kindly giving me the credit.
My host shook my hand profusely and even gave me a hug, which I didn’t reciprocate.
“You’ll always be welcome at my shop, Miller, I am indebted to you.”
“Bloody right you are, I’m risking my life for you!” But secretly I was delighted at the prospect of fighting alongside Grimnir, far more enjoyable than sitting beside Nandrosphi, staring at the backsides of oxen.
The caravan was delayed an hour, yet under orders the slowest constituent parts were moved to the front and of the three mighty wagons, the cargo was redistributed according to value.
One of the merchants bravely requested to stay behind, but was refused, for his bravery came partly from a desire to avoid salvage fees. He had known there would be repercussions when they tried to secure repossession of their property. Or was he hiding contraband?
All the soldiers were in position, the caravan slowly set off, and standing completely equipped, save my cloak that was hung over a wheel, I turned to Grimnir.
“So what now? Is there anything more we can do?”
“No, nothing really, they will be watching us. With luck they might decide not to attack the main part of the convoy, after all there’s only one fighter to worry about,” he smiled, as I looked at him.
“Do you have a reputation, Lord?” I asked, hoping that they might make a mistake thinking we were easy to overpower.
“Not in recent years, but some might remember, and we are dressed for war. They’ll probably try to shoot us first, we shall see.”
“Oh, bloody marvellous, can I hide behind your shield?” I looked at the wagons thinking they might offer enough protection.
Grimnir sat down in the middle of the road, an obvious target, and waited.
After two hours I was getting bored. “Why are they waiting?”