The walls of the old Roman fort rose above a wide bend of the river. The rescue party pulled the boats ashore upstream and hid them well with brush and tree branches. Then they gathered around Bear, their faces grim.
“We lost the race,” he said wearily. “Though if we had caught them out on the water there’d have been little we could do to stop them. They are many and have our people as hostages.”
Cai, who had been up the hill to scout, spoke up. “Looks to me as if they’re planning to stay in the fort for now,” he said. “The boats are pulled well up along the shore, and I can see smoke from fires inside the walls.”
Bear nodded. “There are probably other parties out raiding the countryside,” he said. “They must have a large ship down on the Hafren. To carry off their booty to the Saxon Shore.”
“And their slaves,” added Bedwyr sombrely.
A murmur of agreement ran around the circle of tired faces.
“Somehow some of us have to get into the fort,” Bear went on. “It won’t be easy. The walls won’t be in good repair, but the Saxons aren’t fools. They’ll have posted guards. But if we can get a few of us inside without the Saxons’ knowing, we can take out the guards and warn our people to be ready. Then the rest of us can risk a surprise attack.”
“But how do we do that?” someone asked.
“We can’t do much until dark. Let me think on it,” said Bear. “Meanwhile, let’s eat something and get some rest. Bedwyr . .?” His voice trailed off hopefully.”
“I’ll see to the food,” said Bedwyr. “Some of you help me with the supplies.”
The others drifted off to search for firewood.
“Dry wood, and only a little,” Bear called after them. “We can’t afford to show smoke.” He sank down on a mossy log, his wounded leg held out stiffly before him. It was an ugly sight, the bandage now filthy and crusted black with blood.
David swallowed, hard, then, “Let me have a look at that,” he offered. Unslinging Beauty, he knelt down and began peeling off the dirty bandage.
Bear drew in his breath with a pained hiss. “Minstrel you may be, but you surely haven’t a healer’s hands,” he complained, as David laid the wound bare.
Looking at the gaping tear in Bear’s leg, David swallowed. “It’s a mess,” he said frankly. “Back where I come from you’d be whisked off to hospital for stitches and an antibiotic shot in your rear.”
“Eh?” Bear looked down at him, puzzled.
“We spoke of it once. Don’t you remember? Needles full of powerful medicine that doctors stick into you?”
Bear grinned through his pain. “I don’t feel as if I need anything else stuck into me right now, happen we did have such a thing. If you’ll just do your best to clean up the wound and bind it, I’d be grateful.”
David fetched water upstream of the camp to wash the wound. Then he rummaged around in the supplies for a fairly clean piece of sacking and cut strips of it with his dagger to bandage the leg tightly. Still kneeling, he looked up at Bear. “It’s stopped bleeding, and it’s fairly clean now. But I don’t know herbs or anything to put on it for healing, or to help with the pain . . .” Suddenly he thought of Branwyn, and his eyes misted over. He looked down quickly.
“It will do. Thanks,” said Bear.
His voice was oddly gentle, and David guessed that his thoughts were the same as his own. “What are we going to do, Bear?” he asked, looking up again.
“I don’t know yet,” Bear confessed, his eyes troubled. “We need to get someone inside. But how?” He shook his head. “Unless we can do that, we haven’t a prayer of getting enough warriors in to help our people. The raiders will carry the prisoners off to the Saxon lands as thralls. It will be the last we’ll see of any of them.”
David felt black misery settle over him. Meri was right there inside those walls. Maybe she hadn’t been harmed yet. But she would be. They had to help her. And Lady Eluned and the rest. But what if Bear couldn’t think of a way?
Much good his past and future knowledge did him now, he thought. He’d never learned much about wars. Now he was in the middle of one. His thoughts went round in a circle. Meri. The walls. Themselves on the outside. They needed to get inside, but weren’t strong enough to fight their way in. Somehow it reminded him of a story he knew. An old story. . . .
“What we need is a wooden horse,” he said, half to himself.
“A what?” Bear wasn’t paying attention.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing useful. Just something out of an old tale . . .”
Bear was all attention now.”Let me be the judge of that. Tell me!” he demanded.
David began, “Long ago people called Greeks laid siege to a city named Troy. I forget why, exactly. Anyway it doesn’t matter. But these Greeks, see, they had the same problem we’ve got. The city had strong walls and many warriors inside. The Greeks couldn’t fight their way in.”
“So?”
“So they decided to get in by trickery. They built this wooden horse. A big one. And they put some of their warriors inside. Then they left the horse outside the city gates and pretended to go away.”
“And what happened?” Bear’s eyes were riveted on David’s.
“Well, the Trojans thought the Greeks had given up and left the horse as some kind of tribute. So they pulled the horse inside the city walls. And later, while the Trojans were celebrating their victory, the Greek soldiers came out of the horse and opened the gates for the rest of the army. And that was the end of Troy!”
For a long moment, Bear said nothing. David began to feel foolish. What use was it to tell the story anyway? It didn’t solve their problem.
“Sorry. I guess it’s a pretty dumb idea,” he said lamely. “I know you can’t come up with a wooden horse . . .”
Bear jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing. “No, but a live horse, perhaps. And a cart. And tribute, of a kind.”
“You mean you’ve actually thought of something?” David stared at him in amazement.
Bear laughed wildly. “You thought of it. But I think I know how to make it work for us. Come on!” He strode off toward the others, his weariness and pain forgotten.
Bear’s plan was simple. They would scour the nearby farms for a cart of some kind and a horse or pony to pull it. They’d load into it as many goods as they could find. And at dusk, someone would drive it right past the old Roman fort.
“The Saxons will never be able to resist seizing it and taking it inside. Never!” Bear crowed. “And if we’re lucky, they’ll be too busy with the contents to look underneath the cart, where some of us will be concealed. Once the Saxons have taken the bait, we can sneak out and deal with the guards, maybe even unbar the gates for the rest of us.”
“It could work!” Cai said, his eyes alight. “Any road, it’s the only chance we’ve got!”
“Are we agreed, then?” asked Bear, glancing around the circle of eager faces. There was a murmur of assent. “Then let’s get on with it. We haven’t much time.”
They split into groups. Cai would lead one scavenging party, and Bedwyr another. Bear and David would make a third.
“There’s a small settlement not far away, and farms are scattered all around this area,” Bear told them. “Some will have been picked clean by the Saxons. But I’m hoping the raiders haven’t had time to find all there is to find.”
“What if some of the farmers are still about?” someone asked.
“Then you’ll have to persuade them to give us what we need,” replied Bear. “Do try to be nice about it, won’t you?” he added, dryly. Everybody laughed. “Now let’s go! Try to be back in no more than a couple of hours. We must make our move before it’s too dark.”
Half an hour later, David found himself peering out from under a particularly thorny gorse bush on the edge of a farmyard about a kilometre from the river.
“It seems quiet,” said Bear in a low voice. Then, looking at the dilapidated hut and barn, he added, “What a benighted little cot! Phew!
did you ever smell a riper dung heap?”
He drew his sword and edged cautiously toward the house, with David at his heels. The door of the hut gaped open. Inside, they found evidence of hasty flight. Bins and boxes stood open, as if provisions had been hastily collected. But there was no sign of looting.
“Must have heard about the raiders and gone off somewhere safer,” said Bear. “Let’s see what they’ve left behind for us.”
It wasn’t much. A sack half full of lentils and a string of onions were all they could find.
“Let’s hope we have better luck in the barn,” commented Bear, looking disgusted. The barnyard was empty, save for a couple of miserable-looking hens. David chased the squawking fowl and stuffed them into a sack. By the time he had caught them he was out of breath and out of temper. “No luck, I suppose,” he said crossly as Bear came back from the barn empty-handed.
Bear shook his head, looking grim. “They took the horses. Too valuable to leave behind. Let’s hope the others find something that can pull a cart. If not . . .”
Just then, a strange sound came from behind the barn. Something between a loud wheeze and a klaxon horn. David spun around. “What was that?” he asked nervously, as the sound came again.
Bear was grinning. “Maybe, just maybe, the answer to our problem.” He disappeared into the barn and came out in a moment with a bridle. Then the two of them circled the building. There, in a kind of rough paddock, stood a large dusty-grey beast with long ears.
David was puzzled. “What is it?” he asked. “It’s too big for a donkey. And pretty weird-looking for a horse.”
“Mule,” said Bear. He clambered over the fence and walked slowly toward the animal. “A nice mule, a very, very nice mule,” he went on, coaxingly. “Aren’t you, old fellow?”
The mule pricked its ears forward. It let Bear approach to within an arm’s length, then trotted a short distance away. Bear tried again and again, but each time the same thing happened.
“Wretched brute!” Bear said feelingly. “No wonder they left it behind for the Saxons.”
“Maybe you should try bribing him,” said David, tossing Bear an onion from the string slung over his shoulder.
Bear shrugged and held out the onion on the palm of his hand. Step by step, the beast came closer, stretching out its ungainly muzzle. As it took the onion and began to crunch it, Bear threw the bridle over its head and made it fast. Then, as the mule tried to back away, he leaped onto its back and clung there. Snorting and braying, the mule began to buck.
“Yeeee-ha!” whooped David, doubled over with laughter. “Ride ’em, cowboy!”
Still clinging to the mule’s back, Bear grabbed one of its long ears. He pulled it back and sank his teeth into it. The mule gave an astonished bray, then stood quite still.
“That’s amazing,” gasped David, tears of laughter still running down his face.
Grimacing, Bear slid down off the mule’s back. “An old horseman’s trick. And the brute deserves it. He’s made my leg bleed again,” he said. He shifted the rough bit of wattle fence that served as a gate and led the mule out of the paddock.
Back at the camp, they found Cai and his group had arrived, pulling a battered-looking cart loaded with supplies.
“I never thought to find myself playing cart-horse,” grumbled Cai. “I’m glad to see that mule!”
“Let’s get some straps rigged under the cart,” said Bear. “If we’re clever, there should be room for two of us to hang on under there.”
“Come on, Onion,” David said, leading the mule over to a rich patch of grass and tethering him to a bush. “Eat up. You’ve got an exciting night ahead of you.” He went back to stand behind Bear. “And speaking of excitement,” he began, “who . . .”
He broke off as Bedwyr and his group straggled in rolling two large oaken kegs before them.
“What on earth . . . !” began Cai.
Bedwyr, clearly delighted with himself, was grinning from ear to ear. “The village was deserted. But guess what we found in the head-man’s hut—mead!”
“Good man!” exclaimed Bear, clapping him on the shoulder. “The Saxons won’t bother lugging that all the way back to their ship. They’re sure to drink every drop. All the better for us!”
“I wouldn’t mind a mouthful of it myself,” muttered Cai, as he turned back to fastening the straps under the cart. “A pity to waste it on Saxons.”
Bear glanced at David. “You were asking . . .?”
David nodded. “Who goes with the cart? Will we draw lots?”
Bear shook his head. “Nay, David. The warriors won’t follow just anybody. If not me, then Cai must be the one to lead them. Besides, he’s too large to fit under the cart. Bedwyr and I are smaller and quicker on our feet. We’ll be the ones to go.”
“But who drives the cart?” asked David. His mouth felt strangely dry as he asked.
Bear’s eyes met his squarely. “That’s the most dangerous job of all. Because the Saxons probably won’t bother making a prisoner of the driver. If he can’t talk his way around them, they’re likely to just kill him outright. And if they don’t kill him, and our attack fails, the rest of us will die quickly. But the driver will wear a Saxon slave collar for the rest of his days!”
David stood silent for a moment, thinking of Meri. Then, as if from a great distance, he heard himself saying words he hadn’t thought he could bring himself to utter. “Well, I’m not up on my Saxon. But if you’re looking for someone totally harmless, who better than a wandering minstrel?”
As he spoke, an owl hooted from somewhere in the darkening woods behind them.
FOURTEEN
Let’s go,” said Bear. With a grunt of discomfort, he swung himself under the cart, slipping his body through the loops attached under both ends of it.
“Mind your leg, man. Can you manage?” asked Bedwyr, exchanging a glance with David.
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” came the muffled response. Then, “Hurry up, the two of you. The less time I have to spend hanging here like a trussed fowl, the happier I’ll be.”
Bedwyr swung himself under the far side of the cart, and David clambered onto the top.
The light was fading fast, and the wind was rising. He could hear it soughing overhead in the branches. The owl called again, closer this time. The hair rose on the back of his neck. Was it Blodeuwedd?
Bear’s pained voice came from under the wagon. “Get a move on, for pity’s sake. And if that wretched mule balks, bite him again!”
I wonder how you put a mule in gear? David puzzled to himself. He gave the animal’s rump a smart slap with the reins. “C’mon, Onion. Giddap,” he said loudly. To his astonishment, the mule obeyed, and the heavily-laden cart jolted out onto the rutted road
The dark bulk of the fort loomed not far ahead of him. He peered into the gathering dusk looking for some sign of Cai and the rest. They should be hidden near the fort by now.
What was Cai thinking about, out there in the darkness?
The red-haired warrior had spoken to him before the two groups separated. “Bear told me it was you that first thought of the ruse,” he said gruffly. “And that you volunteered to drive the cart. He paused for a moment, then went on, biting off the words as if he found them hard to say. “I’m grateful. Even if . . . I saw you and Meri in the woods that day, you know. I hadn’t liked you before, but after that I hated you. Because I was afraid of losing her. Now, who knows? It may be too late for Meri, my mother, all of them. And us.”
“I’m no warrior, as you’ve proved often enough,” said David. “But you’ll find a way to save them. You and Bear and Bedwyr.”
With a half-embarrassed nod, Cai had turned away.
Wherever Cai is now, he won’t be nervous, David thought. Cai didn’t have a nerve in his body. He himself was so frightened he was almost numb. What if he botched things somehow, and the others never had a chance to carry out the rescue?
Let me do this right, he prayed. Please. For Meri.
To keep his spirits up, he began to sing. After all, the whole point now was to get himself noticed. Too bad he couldn’t play Beauty and drive the cart at the same time.
He began with the first thing that came into his head.
One hundred bottles of mead on the wall,
One hundred bottles of mead.
What have you got when you take one away?
Ninety-nine bottles of mead!
His voice came out strained and wobbly, but after a few choruses he controlled it. “Sorry for the quality of the entertainment!” he called down to the others. “Ninety-six bottles of mead on the wall . . .”
He had worked his way through “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “Hi-ho, Hi-ho!” before the action started. By this time, one wall of the fort was not far away, and over the creaking of the cart he heard shouting. Torches flared along the top of the walls, and then a lighted gap appeared. The Saxons must have opened a gate!
He was just level with the fort when they came down on him, moving with amazing speed for such huge men. In less than a minute, they had surrounded him and seized the mule’s head. David was jerked off the cart and dumped on the ground. He found himself looking up at a circle of ferocious faces wreathed in straggly blond hair and huge drooping moustaches. Seen from that angle, the Saxons looked at least ten feet tall.
One of them, who was, if possible, even larger than the rest, growled a question and prodded David painfully in the ribs with the edge of a wicked-looking battle axe.
“Ouch! Hi!” David stammered. “Uh, no harm intended, fellows. I’m just passing through. To market, to market, y’know . . .”
The question was repeated, and the axe dug into his ribs again.
Too scared to say anything more, David simply held up both hands to show he was unarmed. He hoped they wouldn’t think to search him and find the dagger he had tucked into his leggings.
The blond giant reached down and picked him up by the neck of his tunic. David found himself dangling in mid-air, his feet at least half a metre off the ground. The Saxon shook him as a terrier shakes a rat, then, with a nasty smile, he laid the blade of the axe against David’s jugular.
The Minstrel Boy Page 10