Faetherton stands there quietly for several minutes. Then when Illan isn’t making any move to leave he says, “You know you all are in a lot of trouble.”
Jiron laughs, “I suppose.”
“So?” Yern says.
“If you let me go I’ll go easy on you when the time comes,” he says.
“I doubt if you’ll live that long,” Uther says.
“Are you threatening me?” he says offended.
Uther looks at him and nods over to where Illan is returning, “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
Faetherton turns to see Illan stalking from the graveyard wearing a grim expression. The color drains from his face as he sees Illan’s hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
Illan comes to stand before Faetherton, the others gathered around. “I charge you with the death of my wife, the wrongful imprisonment of my son and his family. I also charge you with the illegal seizure of power here in Seastar. How do you plead?”
Faetherton gasps when he hears that. “How do I plead?” he replies indignantly. “Who are you to make charges against me? You, who killed with reckless abandon many years ago. You hold no authority here.”
“Is there anyone here who has anything to say on this man’s behalf?” he asks. A silence hangs in the air as he looks to each in turn, finally settling on James, of everyone there, he’s the most likely to voice an objection. To the surprise of all, he shakes his head.
“So be it,” he says and draws his sword.
“Wait!” Faetherton cries, the doom of the moment finally becoming real to him. He tries to make a break for it but Jorry and Uther grab him and drag him back. Forcing him to his knees, they hold him there to face Illan’s judgment.
“You are found guilty, the sentence is death!” he says as he lashes out and severs his head from his body. Jorry and Uther quickly back away to avoid being sprayed by the blood as it fountains from his neck.
“Battlefield justice,” Potbelly says.
Wiping his sword on the dead man’s clothes, Illan says, “Let’s go.” Moving to his horse, he mounts and leads them back through town and to his estate. As they leave, James glances back to the dead man and shudders.
Arriving at the estate, they find two of Ceadric’s men standing watch in front by the gate. They come to attention when he arrives and one opens the gate to allow them through. Up at the manor house everyone’s in a flurry of activity.
As they leave the gate behind them and make their way toward the house, word begins to spread of their return and all activity ceases. The front door to the house is open and before they arrive, Ceadric, Delia and the others come out to greet them.
“Are they settled in?” Illan asks Ceadric.
“Yes, sir,” he replies. “They’re in the dining room having a bite to eat, they were all quite famished. I have riders out to gather those who will have time to reach Brook’s Hollow by dawn.”
“Good,” he says as he dismounts. Caleb and Moyil come forward to take their horses. Illan moves into the house.
James signals for Delia, Jiron and Miko to follow him and he takes them from the bustle surrounding the manor house to an area where they can have some privacy. “I guess you realize things have changed slightly?” he asks.
“You could say that,” Jiron replies.
“Poor man,” Delia says, saddened by Illan’s loss. Then an angry look comes to her as she says, “Those children were on Coryntia’s doorstep. Any longer and none would have survived.”
James nods in agreement. “Illan took care of Lord Faetherton.”
“He’s dead,” adds Jiron.
“Good,” she says. “I don’t usually wish ill of another, but this was reprehensible.”
“I agree,” states James. “Our small band is now practically an army.”
Delia looks questioningly at him and Jiron explains. “It’s Illan. As Black Hawk, he commanded a sizeable force of men, men it would seem who are still loyal to him. Tomorrow at Brook’s Hollow, wherever that is, we’ll see just how much our group has grown.”
“Do you think he’ll revert to his old ways?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” replies James. “He said he still follows me. If I don’t ask him to, he will likely continue on as he has been. Only this time with an army at his back.”
“With what we have coming ahead, that can only be a good thing,” interjects Miko.
Silence fills the air as James glances from one to the other. “I was hoping to have a small band which may remain unnoticed and easily escape. If I take an army into battle, what chance do we have of that?”
“Good point,” says Jiron.
“So what do you plan to do?” Miko asks.
“Play it by ear,” he tells them. “As a wise man once said, ‘No battle plan ever lasts past the first fall of the sword.’ Already the plans I’ve made are undergoing change.” He glances over to the dozen or so men beginning to set up camp on Illan’s front lawn. “More men can’t be a bad thing, can it?”
Jiron laughs, “Hardly. Have you actually looked at these guys? They’re battle hardened veterans who are no strangers to war. A better bunch of men you couldn’t ask for. True, they’re getting on in age, but not so much that it will hinder them.”
Nodding, James says, “Perhaps you’re right.” Already, plans and strategies for how he’ll use these men in the upcoming battles are beginning to take shape. “Yes, perhaps you are right.” Smiling, he takes them back to the manor house.
Chapter Six
___________________________
The following morning, Illan takes his leave of Alric and his family. He and his son were up talking through the night about his wife, their future and more inconsequential matters. He offered to leave some men behind for protection, but Alric assured him that with Lord Faetherton out of the picture, he had little to fear.
Alric had been surprised when he learned of Illan’s past, that his father was the feared and renowned Black Hawk of legend. In a way hurt that his father never entrusted that knowledge with him, but understanding the motivations behind it. All Illan had to say was that it was his mother’s wish he was never to learn, told him all he needed to know.
James and the others, including Ceadric and his men, wait on horseback out front while he finishes his goodbyes. Moyil stands holding the reins to his horse until he appears. At last, he comes through the door, his two grandkids holding onto him, begging him not to go. In the short time he’s known them, they grew awfully fond of him. Alric’s wife finally has to take charge and disengage them from him.
“You be careful now,” his son cautions.
Taking the reins from Moyil, Illan mounts and then turns toward his son. “I will. You take care of my grandkids and I’ll be back when I can.”
“I will father,” he says. His wife stands there with a sad smile as she holds onto the kids to prevent them from charging forward.
He gives her a wave and salutes his grandkids, which gets them even more excited. Then he turns and begins making his way down the lane to the gate. “Goodbye grampa,” the boy hollers. He turns in his saddle and waves one more time before turning back.
As they leave the gate and the manor house behind, Illan rides in silence. Memories come to him unbidden of his life here and the family he has left. He glances over to Ceadric and sees him smiling. “What are you smiling about?” he asks.
Ceadric grins at him and says, “I never in my life thought the ruthless Black Hawk would ever be called ‘grampa’.” At that he chuckles as does many of the others who overheard the exchange.
“We all get old,” he replies, “if we’re lucky.”
In the fore of the column ride James and Illan with Ceadric and Jiron just behind them. The rest follow along at the rear. They ride toward town and when they get there, James is surprised at how many of the townsfolk have turned out. Seems rumors have been circulating about the events of the night before, that Illan is actually Black Hawk and that
he’s going to thump the Empire just as he did before.
“Illan!” he hears from those in the street. “Is it true you’re going to take on the Empire again?”
“Looks that way,” he replies.
“Give ‘em hell!” another shouts out.
“That’s the plan,” he exclaims and a cheer erupts from the onlookers.
They work their way through town and the people steadily fall behind until finally dropping out of sight. He takes them along a dirt road which he says will lead to Brook’s Hollow. Before they even get there, the smell of wood smoke reaches them.
Along the way, several riders come up from behind, those just now arriving in answer to Illan’s call. When they reach the group, they fall in behind with the rest of Black Hawk’s men.
What awaits them at Brook’s Hollow is even more than what Illan expected. Five hundred men at least await them there. The majority are those who served with him before, but many brought their sons along to follow his banner. The banner bearing Black Hawk’s insignia stands proudly in the center of the assembled men, blowing proudly in the breeze.
“I didn’t realize there were that many left,” Illan says in amazement.
Ceadric comes up next to him. “More may be on the way, it’s hard to know for sure.”
James looks out over the mass of men and can only look on in awe. Never had he thought he would have such a force of men for what he plans to do. This may work out after all.
A tall rider, well over six feet tall with gray peppering his black hair, comes forward from the men awaiting them and comes to a stop before Illan. “Sir!” he says with a salute. After Illan returns the salute, the man says, “All are ready. Each has three days of supplies and is eager to go.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Illan tells him. To those riding with him, he says, “Stay here a moment.” Moving forward alone, he addresses those in the Hollow. Raising his voice to carry to the farthest man he says, “Madoc has been victimized again by the Empire. Again, Black Hawk’s Raiders are summoned to show them the error of their ways.”
A whoop and holler erupts from the men and he’s forced to pause a moment until they’ve quieted back down enough so they’ll be able to hear him. “Our goal is simple. Drive them out or die to the last man!” Again, a cheer erupts, oaths are sworn and the men rattle their swords in their sheathes.
When again the Hollow is quiet, Illan hollers out, “This time, I do not lead.” A murmur runs through the men at that. He holds up his hand for quiet. When he has it, he motions James to come forward and stand next to him. Once he’s there, Illan turns back to the assembled men and says, “This is James, a mage of fearsome power who leads this company. I have sworn him my support for the trials ahead. If you follow me, you follow him.” He glances around at the assembled faces and then says, “What say you? Will you follow?”
To a man they yell, “Yes!” The sound of their voices rings out across the hills.
“Then, let’s go teach the Empire a lesson they’ll never forget!” he hollers and turns around to face the direction they just came from. To Ceadric he says, “Just as before, you’re my second. Keep the chain of command the same as it was before.”
“Aye sir,” he says and then moves toward those waiting in the Hollow.
“Inspiring,” James says as they get underway to return to town.
Illan gives him a grin and replies, “It’s expected. Something for them to tell their grandkids about.”
“I think some already have their grandkids with them,” Uther observes from behind.
“Well if you think about it,” Jorry begins, “that wouldn’t make them all that old even if they did. Suppose they had their first child when they were sixteen and then…”
All the way into town, they hear Uther and Jorry argue the possibilities and circumstances about age, grandkids and the men’s worthiness in battle. Finally, Illan turns on them and tells them to stop, that it was getting on his nerves. They actually had the temerity to look offended that he said what he did. In any event, it got them to stop.
Once they reach town, James thought they would have taken the road back the way they had come. But Illan instead takes them to the southeast, cross country. “Why are we going this way?” he asks him.
“The road adds another couple hours,” he explains. “This way we should reach the walls of Lythylla before night.”
Their column stretches back half a mile. At the fore ride Illan and James. Behind them rides Ceadric with a score of men as well as Jiron and Miko. The man who brought the Black Hawk banner rides within that group, the flag proudly flapping in the breeze.
Next comes Delia with the rest who set out from The Ranch as well as all their pack horses. James didn’t want them trailing along at the end, felt what they were carrying was too important to take the risk.
At the end ride the men who flocked to Illan’s call.
The mood of the various groups is for the most part expectant and hopeful. The group from The Ranch feels better now that they have a band of battle hardened men accompanying them.
As they ride, more men from Illan’s old force come and join their ranks. At one point after they stop briefly for the noon meal, they encounter a patrol out of Lythylla.
When the officer in charge of the patrol sees the banner bearing the Black Hawk he breaks into a gallop and races toward them, his men following close behind.
Before he has a chance to make any sort of declaration, Illan hollers, “What’s the news from Lythylla?” He then brings his horse to a halt which signals the column behind him to stop as well.
The officer hesitates a moment before replying, his eyes moving from the banner, to Illan in his Black Hawk attire and then the column of men stretching behind him. His men come to a stop behind him, murmurs are heard as they come to understand who it is before them. “The Empire has yet to attack,” he explains. “So far they’ve been satisfied with probing attacks.”
“What strength do they have?”
“Last word was close to ten thousand,” he replies. “Looks like they’ve committed most of their reserves in taking Lythylla.” When Illan doesn’t reply, he asks, “Do you mean to go there then?”
“I do,” he says.
At that an excited murmur again comes from the officer’s men.
“From here to the city is clear of enemy patrols and agents,” the officer tells him.
“Thank you,” he says and then gets his horse moving again. As they leave the patrol behind, James hears “Black Hawk!” and other exclamations as the officer’s men can no longer control themselves in their jubilation. If anyone can save Madoc in its time of need, it’s him.
James had come to the decision before this all began to leave the interaction with other military people to Illan. He understands the subtle nuances to get what needs done far better than he does. In those instances, he stays back and lets him have his way, confident he will do nothing to compromise their objective.
They reach the walls of Lythylla two hours after leaving the patrol behind. During that time, they encounter another three patrols, all telling them the same. Each time they continue on, leaving behind men whose hope for the future has been rekindled.
When the walls appear ahead of them, so does the river. They’re able to take in the defenses of the enemy which have sprung up over the winter. Nothing major, simply a wooden palisade stretching to the horizon several hundred feet from the river’s edge. Enemy patrols are seen in the area between the palisade and the water. From their vantage point, it’s impossible to see what lies on the other side of the palisade.
“Should we ride closer and let them see who it is that’s come to join the fight?” asks Ceadric. The revelation that Black Hawk has joined the fray would definitely send ripples of uncertainty and perhaps a little bit of fear through the soldiers.
Illan shakes his head and says, “No. Now is not the time.”
“They’ll know before too much longer,” Jiron says from his
position behind them.
“When they do, they do,” he says and the tone of his voice tells them this conversation is over.
As they draw close to the north gate, they find it shut tight. Previously, it had been left open allowing refugees the opportunity to escape the coming conflict. By this time though, anyone who was going to flee would already have done so.
A crowd gathers along the wall over the gate as word spreads of the approaching force. When they’re finally able to see the Black Hawk banner flying in the wind, a cheer goes up from the defenders.
As they come within a couple hundred feet of the gate, it begins to swing open and six men ride out to meet them. In the center of the group is none other than Lord Pytherian himself. His aide Henri rides beside him as well as four other military officers.
“Greetings Black Hawk,” Lord Pytherian says as the two parties come together and stop.
“Milord,” Illan replies back.
“It’s been awhile,” he says.
A chuckle can be heard from the helm. “You could say that,” he replies.
Lord Pytherian finally glances at the others riding with the famed Black Hawk and his eyes widen when he discovers James there beside him. “As I live and breathe,” he says. “Am I glad to see you.”
“Sounds like you are about to have your hands full,” he says. “Good to see you again milord.”
“You too, James,” he replies and then turns his attention back to Illan.
“There are many things which we need to discuss,” Illan tells him.
“Indeed,” he replies as he turns back toward the city.
Across the river, soldiers of the Empire are taking a most interested look at the new arrivals. From their vantage point across the river, it’s hard to tell whether or not they have made out the banner. From the lack of excitement, James figures they haven’t yet done so.
At the gate, soldiers and civilians who have stayed behind to aid in Lythylla’s defense gather to greet the new arrivals. Shouts of “Black Hawk” and other exclamations greet them as they enter the city. The way they’re greeting him, you would think Illan was a returning conquering hero. Thinking back on the tales of his exploits, it may not be far from the truth.
Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six Page 8