hey did have one chance encounter on the road. Seeing a mighty force on the road far ahead, the bandit who had been sent to ransom Lord Aldwin OF Sleaford quickly took cover. He had a most frustrating errand. he arrived at Sleaford and demanded to see the wife of the lord. When the steward asked him if he would not rather see Lord Aldwin himself, Cynulf had been unable to mask his surprise and mounting dismay. He turned tail and ran, stopping in the town to talk to villagers who confirmed that their lord was well and most definitely ensconced in his fortress. He learned as well from his sources that Aldwin was a quite corpulent man with a thick black beard. That did not sound in the least like the man his confederates were holding for ransom! Cynulf headed west again. He was not altogether unhappy about his long walk, as the band gave him what coin they had for his travels and he after all got a fine pair of boots out of the deal. They were too big but straw shoved inside took care of that. All in all he enjoyed the chance to meet people, eat at alehouses, and was sure of a fine reward. Now he watched as the armed force moved towards him. When the lead riders were close enough for him to see them, he gasped. There was Aldwin himself or whatever his real name was, and he was riding at the lead under the banner of.. dear God.. the king. He could draw only one truly horrible conclusion. They had captured the king! They were doomed. Perhaps even now his entire clandestine village in the woods was full of corpses, bandit corpses. Then to his great surprise he recognized some of the bandits he had lived with even before the village of Toft was raided and burned. There was Maerhad, Lark and Wulfstan! They were not dead! They rode in the king's wake! He was so relieved he ran out of the trees and right into Wulfstan’s arms. The commotion as the sudden attack from the trees by a single madman, or so it looked at first to those who did not know Cynulf, went up the line and finally came to the attention of the king. He craned his neck to see what was happening, but could only see a confused roiling, nothing really violent. He turned War-Brother around, and with Botopher accompanying him, he rode back to see what was going on. “My boots! Those are my boots!” he shouted as he saw Cynulf and recognized him and the boots. The king had borrowed boots from Horsa, Botopher’s being too small. He jumped from War-Brother’s back and strode over to the small man and pointed to his feet. “Take off those boots!” Cynulf sat right down on the ground where he had stood, spongy and moist as it was, and pulled the boots off, thrusting them at the king with a look that begged for mercy. The king snatched them, looked for an aide, and had the man who ran to help him pull off the borrowed boots and help him pull on his own. His feet would not go in all the way, so he pulled off one of the boots himself and turned it upside down so that the straw packing fell out. He looked at Cynulf who just shrugged sheepishly. “But sire, what am I going to do about boots now?” Cynulf whined. The king turned his piercing blue eyes on the man who was still sitting on the damp ground. Cynulf clammed up and bowed his head. The king remounted War-Brother and rode with Botopher and the other riders who had followed them to the fore. Wulfstan chuckled when Cynulf had gotten to his feet. “Not only do you have bare feet but now you have a wet arse. Come along.. we have a long story to tell you.” The fortress loomed ahead, atop the bluff over the sea. On the slow incline to where it stood, the king of CrÃslicland rode at the head of an army of champions and the fyrd that had grown so large he could no longer see the last man in the lines. He looked not behind but before him, to the fortress he himself had built and where his true love and their children waited. He prayed they were alive and mayhap knew he was there, closer than the horizon, ready to fight, shed his blood and die to bring them safely out of peril. As he came closer, he surveyed the palisades. He did not think Josephine would be there, but his heart so yearned he could not have done otherwise. It was not until the force was piling up behind him and their commanders were barking orders to distribute them to where they would make camp that he stopped examining the fortress and looked away at Horsa’s question. “Sire, it is so good to be here and see it all still stands, does it not?” Lawrence glanced back at the outer walls of his stronghold. “Aye, ‘tis good, but it will be better inside looking out.” He turned War-Brother who himself seemed to be sniffing the familiar air. “Is the scout back from the town?” “He is riding up now, my liege,” the older man replied. The scout, little more than a boy, jumped down from his horse and kneeled at the feet of the king’s. Lawrence hastily backed up War-Brother for he was a war horse and did not take kindly to those who came underfoot. The king dismounted as an aide held his reins and walked over to the boy. “What did you find?” “Your grace,” he answered raising himself to stand before the king, “I secreted myself in a tree that tops the wall. Everywhere I looked I saw men with weapons darting about as if the fires of Hell were lapping at their heels. They were taking whatever they could carry, leaving townspeople staring after them. They all took to their heels and went up to the fortress but the gatekeepers would not let them in!” “Would not let them in? Were we that close then when this happened?” The boy had the king’s full attention. “Nay, sire. I watched as a man went to the battlements and shouted down at them. I could not hear his words but he swung his arms violently like a goodwife shooing away chickens.” “Was it my cousin the duke?” “I know not, sire, for I was too far away. I could guess from how he gestured that he wanted the men to go back into the town. I could tell that many of the men did look back at the town, then seemed to argue the more. Methinks they wanted the protection of the fortress but the officer on the palisade was telling them to go back and defend the town.” Horsa chided, “Now, lad, ‘tis not your place to draw conclusions. You should give his grace the facts only, for ‘tis for his grace to understand what it means.” “That be all right, lad,” the king smiled. I am inclined to agree with your assessment. I doubt it was my cousin on the palisade. Might it have been a man with curly black hair and a short beard?” The boy shook his head. “He had fair hair, like mine.” he touched his own flaxen hair that hung straight from his scalp. “Straight like mine too.” Lawrence exchanged looks with Horsa and with Botopher who had just joined the conference. “Not Elerde then. I have not seen him either. Nor Gaylorde.” He looked back at the boy. “What did the men do when they gave up on getting within? Assuming they did give up.” “They started back to the town gate, and some went in, but some just wandered off up the hill to the woods. The ones that went through the gate mostly walked straight through town. I went to see where they went, and only a few were still there. All the rest had gone out the other end, at the Monksgate. I even saw some boats setting off at the quay.” “All the angels in heaven!” Botopher swore. “Methinks there may be a few within the fortress as anxious to slip away. The rats are deserting the sinking rat. At your worst, lord, you never had that happen!” Botopher’s smile dropped like a stone at the look Lawrence gave him. “Beg pardon, sire.” “What of the townspeople?” the king directed to the scout. “They just stood in the street and talked and looked about. Some wandered through the open gates and looked around.” Lawrence smiled grimly. “I thank you, my lad. Go to where they are setting up my tent and tell them I said to reward you.” The boy bowed, grinning like a cat who has found a crawling bug to play with. “It sounds like we have a triumphant welcome to accept,” Lawrence said to his commanders. They did not need to wait to enter at kingsgate for their welcome. Even as the party of men led by the king came over the rise townspeople en masse were pouring out of the gate to meet them. Lawrence found himself surrounded by people who wept, laughed, gave thanks to God, and handed him flower after flower. He heard one woman crying, “He's alive! Our beloved lord is alive!” He did not hear the one who said to a companion, “Alas, that the queen herself is not present to greet him. Nor his children.” Those among the men who had joined the king’s army when he first set out for Affynshire now found their loved ones for a joyful reunion. Not all was joy, however, for many were learning just now that someone they loved had been buried near Ratherwood and would nevermore return home. Lawrence’s ears caught the sudden bursts of weeping and keening and his heart ached for the bereaved. He gave the order to let the local men have the night with their families. He had fighters aplenty to put the fortress under siege.
Next: Gaylord Faces the King
No comments:
Post a Comment