'No, you wouldn't,' Will answered his own question. 'When you outline a plan you need to speak clearly and precisely, to make sure the people you're talking to have the full picture. You have to have your own thoughts organised and present them in a logical sequence. Now, take a deep breath ... '
Nick did so.
'And start again. Slowly.'
'Very well,' said Nick, 'the problem facing us is that we don't have sufficient numbers at our disposal to effectively mount a standard siege operation. So we have to find a way to (a) recruit troops and (b) offset the inferiority in numbers, compared to the garrison.'
He looked up expectantly. Will nodded.
'So far so good. And your solution?'
'I propose to recruit a ship's crew of thirty-five Skandian sea wolves to act as an attacking army, under the command of the mounted knight already at my disposal. The Skandians' prowess in battle would more than compensate for - '
But once again, Will had his hands up in the air, waving them in an effort to stem the flow of words.
'Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!' he cried. 'Back up the ox cart a little! Skandians? Where did these Skandians come from?'
Nick looked at him, a little puzzled by the question.
'Well ... Skandia, presumably,' he replied. Will noticed that the other two boys were nodding agreement, frowning slightly at Will's interruption.
'No, no, no,' he began, then a thought struck him and he frowned at the other two boys.
'Did you all decide that you'd recruit a force of Skandians?' he asked and Liam and Stuart nodded wordlessly.
'Well, what made you think you could do that?' he asked. The boys looked at one another, then Liam answered.
'That's what you did.' His tone said that the answer seemed self-evident.
Will made a helpless gesture with his hands.
'But I knew the Skandians,' he said. 'They were friends of mine.'
Liam shrugged. 'Well, yes. But I could get to know them too. I'm told I'm quite a personable type of fellow. I'm sure I could make them my friends.'
Stuart and Nick nodded their support. Will pointed to the Assets and Resources list.
'But there aren't any Skandians here!' he said. 'They don't exist! So what made you think you could just ... produce them out of thin air?'
Again, the boys exchanged glances. This time it was Stuart who spoke.
'The exercise says we're to use our initiative and imagination ... '
Will made a gesture for him to continue.
'So we used our initiative to imagine that there were Skandians in the area.'
'And that we were their friends,' Liam put in.
Will stood abruptly. For the first time, he had an inkling of what Halt might have gone through in the first year of Will's own apprenticeship. To the young boys, it seemed so logical.
'But you can't do that!' he exclaimed. Then, seeing their worried faces, he calmed down a little, forcing himself to explain. 'The Assets and Resources list tells you what people you can use. You can't just invent others to suit your purposes.'
He looked around the semicircle of crestfallen faces.
'I mean, if you could do that, why not just imagine a dozen or so gigantic trolls who could go galumphing in and smash the walls down for you?'
Nick, Liam and Stuart all nodded dutifully and for one awful moment he thought they might be taking him seriously.
'I'm joking,' he said and they nodded again. He sighed and sat down. They knew they were going to have to go back to the beginning and he could see their disappointment. While he didn't intend to do the assignment for them, he decided there was no harm in pointing them in the right direction.
'All right, first of all, let's look at what you've got. Go through the Resources for me.'
'We've got an acrobat troop,' said Liam.
Will looked quickly at him. 'Can you think of anything they could be used for?'
Liam pursed his lips.
'They could entertain the troops and raise morale,' said Nick.
'If we had any troops,' Stuart put in.
'When we've got troops!' Liam interrupted with more than a hint of anger at Stuart's pedantic tone.
Will thought it was best to intervene before they started squabbling. He threw them a broad hint.
'What's stopping you getting into the castle? What's a castle's principal line of defence?' he asked. The boys considered the question, then Stuart answered, in a tone that indicated the answer was an obvious one.
'The walls, of course.'
'That's right. High walls. Four metres high.' Will paused, looking from one face to another. 'Can you see any connection between high walls and acrobats?'
Suddenly light dawned in the three faces, in Nick's a fraction of a second before the other two.
'They could scale the walls,' he said.
Will pointed a forefinger at him. 'Exactly. But you'll still need troops. Where have the original garrison gone?'
'They're scattered all over the fief, back to their farms and hamlets.' It was Liam this time. He frowned, taking it one step further. 'We'll need someone to move around from place to place, recruiting them ... '
'But you don't want the enemy to notice,' Will put in quickly, hoping one of them would get the message.
'The jongleur!' Stuart exclaimed triumphantly. 'Nobody will take any notice of him moving around the countryside!'
Will sat back, smiling at them. 'Now you're beginning to think!' he said. 'Work together on this and come back this afternoon with your ideas.'
The three boys exchanged grins. They were eager now to progress the plan to its next stage. They stood up as Will motioned for them to go, but he stopped them with one more thought.
'Another thing: the village. How many people in it?' Nick answered immediately, without needing to refer to his notes.
'Two hundred,' he said, wondering what Will was getting at. 'But there are only a few soldiers among them. Most are farmers and field workers.'
'I know that,' Will said. 'But think about what the law says about any village with more than one hundred residents.'
The law required that any village with a population of more than one hundred had the responsibility of training its young men as archers. That was how Araluen maintained a large force of trained archers, ready to be called up into the army if needed. He could see the boys hadn't made that step so far. But he decided he'd given them enough help for one day.
'Think about it,' he said, making a shooing motion for them to leave. He listened to their excited, chattering voices as they faded away and leaned back against the trunk of a large tree behind him. He was exhausted, he realised.
'Nice work,' said Crowley, from a few metres behind him. Will, startled, sat up suddenly.
'Don't do that, Crowley!' he said. 'You frightened the wits out of me!'
The Commandant chuckled as he stepped into the glade and sat on a large log beside Will.
'You handled that well. Teaching isn't easy. You've got to know how much to prod them in the right direction and when to leave them to their own devices. You'll be a good teacher when you get your own apprentice.'
Will looked at him, slightly horrified by the prospect. There was the responsibility, not to mention the constant distraction of having a young person at his heels, asking questions, interrupting, racing off at tangents before thinking through a problem ...
He stopped as he realised he was describing his own behaviour as an apprentice. Once more, he felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for Halt.
'Let's not do that for a while yet,' he said and Crowley smiled.
'No. Not just yet. I have other plans for you.'
But when Will pushed him to explain further, the Commandant merely smiled. 'We'll get to that in due time.'
And for the time being, that was all Will could get out of him.
* * *
Chapter 5
* * *
It was after midnight. Selsey was dark and silent as its inhabitants slept. Th
ere was no watchman. In this remote, little-known village there had never been a need for one.
But there was a need tonight, just as Halt had expected.
He was crouched behind one of the fishing boats drawn up on the sand, clear of the high water mark. His first thought had been that the Outsiders would strike at one of the houses. Then he'd realised there was a much better target for them. The fishing boats. - The source of the village's wealth. If a house were burnt, the inhabitants could live under canvas while they rebuilt. Not the most comfortable situation, but life could continue.
If the boats were destroyed, there would be no fishing, no income, while new boats were built.
It would be in keeping with the Outsiders' ruthlessness to attack the boats, he had decided, and now his theory was proving correct. Half a dozen shadowy figures stole from the trees fringing the beach and moved furtively across the sand towards the fishing boats. As he watched them, Halt wondered vaguely why they automatically fell into a crouch as they came. It did nothing to conceal them from view. It simply made them look more suspicious. Yet most people under similar circumstances would do the same thing.
Four of the men stopped by a pile of fishing nets and equipment ten metres away. The 'Other' two continued, heading for the boat next to the one Halt was crouched behind. He peered around the stern as they knelt in the sand, only a few metres away - close enough for him to hear their whispered conversation.
'How many will we do?' asked one.
Farrell says two should be enough to teach them a lesson.' Farrell was the grey-haired man Halt had observed earlier in the day, the leader of this small band of Outsiders. 'I'll do this one. You take care of the one behind me.' The speaker jerked his head towards the boat where Halt was concealed. His companion nodded and began to crawl on hands and knees towards the bow of the boat, staying low to remain out of sight
Quickly Halt drew back and moved away from the stern, angling out towards the third boat in line so that he would be behind the saboteur when he turned his attention to his task. The beach was littered with large patches of seaweed and driftwood, tossed onto the shore by the wind and tide. As he heard the man rounding the bow, Halt dropped motionless to the sand, covered by his cloak. If the man noticed anything, he would have taken the motionless Ranger for yet another clump of debris. As the old Ranger adage went, if a person doesn't expect to see someone, odds are he won't.
Halt heard the scrape of flint on steel and raised his eyes a fraction. The man was hunkered behind the boat, his back to Halt. As the Ranger watched, he heard another scrape and saw the brief blue flash of light from the flint.
On elbows and knees, he slithered forward like a giant, silent snake, rising to a crouch as he reached the unsuspecting man.
The first moment the raider knew he wasn't alone was when an iron bar of an arm clamped across his throat, while a powerful hand forced his head forward to complete the choke hold. He managed one small gasp of surprise before his air supply was cut off.
'What's wrong?' the whispered call came from the other boat. Halt, continuing to apply the choke hold on the rapidly weakening man, replied in a similar whisper.
'Nothing. Dropped the flint.'
He saw the reflection of another flint striking steel from the other boat as he heard the angry whispered reply. 'Well, shut up and get on with it.'
The choke hold had taken full effect now and the man he had surprised slumped unconscious. Halt laid him down in the sand. There had been no further sound of flint striking steel from the far side of the boat, which meant the first raider had succeeded in getting a flame lit. There wasn't any time to waste. The sun-dried timbers of the boat, coated with varnish and paint, and the heavily tarred rigging, would burn quickly. The quickest way to reach the man was over the boat between them. Halt swarmed over the bulwark, crossed to the far side and rolled over onto the sand.
As he came to his feet, he saw the tiny glow of a flame in the tinder held by the man. The raider was looking at the flame as he heard a slight noise behind him. He glanced up, his eyes dazzled by the tiny patch of flame, and saw only a dark figure a few metres away. Logically enough, he assumed it was his companion.
'What are you doing? Have you finished?'
The time for concealment was over, Halt thought. In his normal voice, he replied, 'Not quite.'
Too late, the other man realised this was a stranger. He rose from his crouch. But as he did, Halt slapped the burning pile of tinder out of his hand, scattering it onto the sand. Then he followed through with his other hand, his left, in a hooking palm strike that had all the power of his twisting body and shoulder behind it.
The heel of his hand slammed into the man's chin, snapping his head back and sending him crashing into the hull of the boat with a cry of pain. As the man slid to the sand, half-conscious, Halt yelled at the top of his lungs.
'Fire! Fire in the boats! Fire!'
He heard a chorus of startled exclamations from the other four raiders as they tried to figure out what had happened. There was no plan to start yelling once the fires were lit. Yet as far as they knew, only their two companions were at the boats.
'Fire!' Halt yelled again. 'Get to the boats! Fire!'
His voice was startlingly loud in the peaceful night and already there were lights showing in the houses of the village. The four men realised now that things had gone seriously wrong and they rose, running towards the boats. Halt broke from cover, angling up the beach and away from them. Instinctively, they turned to pursue him, which was what he'd intended. He didn't want them trying to finish the job of setting fire to the boats.
'Get him!' he heard someone yelling, and the soft thud of feet in the sand was close behind him.
But now there were other voices shouting in the distance, as the villagers awoke and raised the alarm, and he heard the running feet behind him hesitate.
'Let him go! Get Morris and Scarr and let's get out of here!' he heard the same voice yell. Morris and Scarr would be the two who had tried to burn the boats and the raiders wouldn't want to leave them for the villagers to question. The running feet behind him turned away, heading back to the boats. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw the four men heading back to drag their companions clear. Several hundred metres further down the beach, lanterns indicated the villagers heading for the boats, although their initial sense of urgency was gone as they could see no sign of fire at the boats.
The raiding party would have time to get away, he thought. But there was little he could do about that now. The large marquee where the Outsiders were camped was slowly coming to life as well. Doubtless they'd been awake all along, watching for their accomplices to carry out their plan. Now, of course, they could hardly pretend to have slept through the racket.
Halt slowed his pace to a jog as he reached the trees at the edge of the beach. He stopped inside the shadows they cast and took several deep breaths. Like all Rangers, he was in excellent physical condition. But it never hurt to rest when you had the chance and he could feel the adrenaline surging through his system, making his breath come faster and his heart beat more rapidly.
Calm down, he told his racing body, and he felt his pulse begin to slow to a more normal rate.
All in all, it had been a successful night, he thought. He would have preferred it if one or two of the raiders had been left behind for the villagers to question. But at least he'd thwarted their plan to burn the boats.
And he would have thrown a large doubt into their minds as they tried to work out what had gone wrong with their plan and who had interfered.
He smiled grimly to himself. He liked the idea that the Outsiders might have something to worry about. Perhaps it was that small satisfaction that took the edge off his natural sense of caution. As he turned to head for the spot where he had left Abelard, he blundered into a man who stepped from behind a tree.
'Who the blazes are you?' the man demanded. He had a heavy spiked club in his hand and he swung it up now, prepa
ring for a crushing blow onto this stranger's head.
The immediate act of aggression told Halt that this was another of the Outsiders' gang. Recovering quickly from his shock, he flat-kicked sideways at the inside of the man's left knee. The leg buckled and the man collapsed with a cry of pain, holding his injured knee and yelling.
'Help! Help! Over here!'
Halt heard answering cries and the sound of bodies running through the trees and bushes. Moving like a wraith, he sped away. He had to reach Abelard before the pursuers caught up with him.
* * *
Chapter 6
* * *
The Gathering was coming to a close.
The two final-year apprentices were being given the usual initiation into the ranks. Will grinned ruefully as he watched, feeling Gilan's elbow dig into his ribs. Not too long ago, he had been in a similar position, feeling dumbfounded as Crowley bumbled and mumbled and hurled bits of paper around, making light of the whole process.
He watched the two new Rangers as they mirrored his own total bemusement. After five years' hard work and faithful application, a graduating apprentice expected some kind of ceremony. Something to mark what was undoubtedly the most important day of his life to date. And so the Ranger Corps, in its own unique style, went out of its way to avoid any such thing. Because, as Will realised now, graduation wasn't an end. It was the beginning of a much larger and more important phase of life.
Ostensibly, only Crowley, the two apprentices and their mentors were present. But in fact, they were surrounded by a group of silent, unseen spectators as the rest of the Rangers stood concealed among the trees, ready to leap out with their cries of congratulation and welcome, just as they did at every induction.
The boys' parents and several family members had been admitted to the area to see their sons graduate, travelling the last ten kilometres of the trip blindfolded, as the location of the Gathering Ground was a closely guarded secret. They too watched with anticipation and amusement from the shadow of the trees.
THE KINGS OF CLONMEL Page 3