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Selinus Stirs
Ala eventually grew to fully understand why Bernard had returned to Thetwick when he did. In fact his retirement had been determined by the fact that the Duke had wanted to shore up the Westmarch and improve its capacity to defend itself. Putting a trusted, proven man in Thetwick improved both the quality of the Duke’s militia and his intelligence. It was customary for the Duke to award retiring soldiers with a plot of land. In Bernard’s case, his retirement package had been generous. It had greatly increased his lands in the Westmarch in addition to what he had inherited from his father and brother. It was the Duke’s way of making it very attractive to accept the position of Captain of the Westmarch though Ala doubted Bernard would have turned the Duke down even if it hadn’t been so lucrative an offer.
It was also just good sense on the part of the Duke, a wealthy Captain, dependent on Ducal patronage, had a strong interest in safeguarding the Duke’s authority. The Westmarch was as much an out of the way place for the Duke as it was for all others. He needed dependable agents in the Westmarch and the defences needed to be able to deter anyone who might otherwise think the Westmarch and easy target. It had all started because of the marriage in Oakharrow between Phoebe Sabran and Acanos Botic. That marriage had suddenly put Oakharrow solidly back in Selinus’ sphere of influence. Since it had happened with no warning, it had also brought into focus how little idea the Dukes of Taladaria had of what was going on across the borders they were obligated to defend. For all practical purposes, the County of Oakharrow had been annexed by Selinus as Saskill had been more than a century before. As soon as Lady Phoebe’s father died, Acanos would become Count and he owed fealty to the King of Selinus. It hadn’t taken the Duke long to take action after the marriage as Bernard had arrived in Thetwick only a few months later.
The Westmarch was a buffer region and it was formally one of the Duke of Taladaria’s domains but the fief was the only Taladarian holding west of the Iceflow river. North of Thetwick was the County of Oakharrow which had once insulated Taladaria from Selinus and which was the source of the Duke’s newfound concern. When the County truly fell into Selinan hands with the death of Phoebe’s father, the Duke had to be ready to face increased problems along his borders. Selinus and Taladaria had been rivals for generations. To strengthen the borders, the Duke had offered several senior non-commissioned officers of his regiment a retirement bonus if they would travel to the villages and towns in the border regions and improve the quality of the local militias. Men who had originally come from those towns were given preference. Bernard was one of the senior men that had agreed to such an arrangement, but Thetwick wasn’t the only town that had been assigned a professional Captain in the years after 944. Ala had discussed it with Bernard numerous times.
“Bernard, do you think this really works?”
“What works?”
“Riding patrols? We never catch anyone. It seems like… like the Selinans come and go at their leisure.”
“It’s a numbers game Ala. Eventually, we’re likely to stumble upon some of them that can’t get away. That said though, us riding these patrols is likely more valuable than actually fighting them.”
“How’s that?”
“They need to think about what they might do if they run into us. They make sure they can get away, only come in larger groups. Generally, it’s just slowing them down, just making it harder for them.”
“I had a sister once. She was taken by Selinans. Just after I came to Thetwick.”
“I know Ala. So strange, that was long before I was born. Now, we’ll never know for certain, of course, but if we weren’t a thorn in their sides, they may have raided Thetwick itself again by now. Probably would have, I imagine.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. Though it also helps that the people who live in the north of the March had mostly joined together in hamlets. Harder to raid and easier to patrol.”
“Is that going to help us… actually catch someone? I’m sick of them slipping away every time.”
“I would expect so. Be careful what you wish for, though, Ala. It might not be pretty.”
She was silent for a moment. He was right of course, she knew that. She still felt an urge… for what, she wondered? Revenge for Emma? Or was it just an affront that the Oakharrowers could terrorise the Westmarch unchecked. Probably a bit of both, she decided.
“We can’t let it go on.”
“There is that, young lass.”
“Don’t you…”
“What?”
“Feel that the Duke should do more?”
“Taladaria is a big place. He has to weigh how he applies his resources. If his efforts are not here, I trust him enough to feel he has good reason for it. I’ve written to him though, suggesting we need more support. The frequency of the incursions is increasing, despite out best efforts, so, I do agree, we need to do more.”
Ala always felt Bernard had a bit of a blind spot concerning the Duke, but she had to concede she had no way of knowing what else Taladaria had to deal with either.
Bernard had always been riding regular patrols with the militia’s small cavalry section. The frequency had been steadily increasing in the years after Aubree’s death. They only had a few horses available and there was still a lot of ground to cover. Ala was allowed to ride valuable warhorses on those patrols, but the rich horse breeders understandably didn’t trust most other militia members with their valuable steeds. When their own sons were on militia duty they obviously made an exception, but in general getting sufficient trained horses was a constant challenge though the horse they did have tended to be big, strong destriers, far beyond what any normal militiaman could normally afford.
The day’s patrol started much like any other. Ten members of the militia, including Ala and Bernard were ready to go before dawn, fording the Clearflow out of Thetwick just as the sun became visible over the horizon. It was going to be a full day’s riding and they hoped to make it back just before sunset. All the men present were well drilled and Bernard made sure there was enough chain mail to outfit everybody who rode regular patrols with a full suit. Before they were halfway Bernard spotted a group of armed men riding towards them.
“Thetwick! Look alive! Armed riders ahead,” he called, causing everyone to tense and check their weapons and armour.
They were on a section of rough track that led from one of the newer hamlets to the Oakharrow border. The hamlet in question had not had any trouble for some time, which was why they were there. Bernard had had a hunch it might be next.
Ala had been on patrols where they had spotted unknown riders before, but they had always been distant and each time they had managed to disappear or flee back into Oakharrow before they could catch up to them. This group was much closer to them, the terrain in the area had decreased the spotting distance substantially. The riders were mounted and it looked like they were wearing light armour, leathers, padding and one was wearing a chain coif that came over the shoulders. That was the heaviest armour in sight. Their spears and shields were clearly visible though there was no visible heraldry to recognise.
Bernard led their patrol to a position between the intruders and the wide track that led towards the hamlet and on to Thetwick. The group fitted the descriptions they’d heard many times, describing the raiders from Oakharrow. The lack of heraldry was in itself a crime – any who bore arms in Iurrak were obligated to display the colours of the authority that permitted them their weapons. These men weren’t displaying any heraldic markings whatsoever, not even a simple caravanners’ pennant. It was a mark of banditry.
There were eighteen, all mounted, facing ten members of the Thetwick militia. The situation became tense as both groups closed and faced off on the narrow track a few hours ride north of the town. The Oakharrow raiders had almost certainly come to the Westmarch to steal cattle or horses. The cattle raids had been becoming increasingly violent in recent months and a farmer and his wife had been killed near the border just a few weeks ago. Bernard would not let such a thing pass if he could help it, she knew.
The two groups came to a stop when they were facing each other at a distance perhaps a hundred and fifty paces. Bernard roared at the men, “Come forth and be recognised!” It was the customary watchman’s challenge.
Ala could see the two of the men talking quietly to each other, conferring.
Bernard tried again. “By the command of the Duke of Taladaria, turn back to Oakharrow! There need not be any bloodshed this day!”
Their leader responded with a threat and called out, “we outnumber you, Thets. Stand aside and we may let you live!”
Ala detected that the man had a bit of an accent. People spoke a little differently in Oakharrow, she knew.
“I cannot allow you to pass. Produce a right to bear arms and state your intentions or prepare to be held to the Duke’s Peace!”
The Oakharrower shrugged. “Have it your way, fool. Run them down, lads!”
The group lowered their spears and spurred their horses, kicking up clouds of dust as they accelerated.
Bernard called out his orders. “Counter charge, close formation, Go, go, go!”
The Thetwick militia, particularly those who rode the mounted patrols, had been well drilled and the ten of them worked well together, the fruits of many hours of practice. The counter charge drill had been practised countless times. Everyone drew their weapons and knew the part they were expected to play. Ala was behind and to the right of Bernard, on a lithe, fast stallion named Lightning that she loved to ride. She drew her elf blade. She had been keeping its existence secret, so she never used it in group practice, but she had decided she ought to have it with her if she really needed to fight, something which had been becoming increasingly likely lately. She had practised with it for hundreds of hours and it felt like it should be in her hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They had been narrowing down which routes the Oakharrowers liked to use to travel into Thetwick. It was inevitable that she would need the sword sooner or later. The weapon felt alive in her hand and she had the distinct sensation that it was eager to be unleashed.
This occasion was precisely why she carried the sword with her. She hoped the blade lived up to her expectations. It felt alive in her hand, as if it was warily seeking a way to strike a blow at her enemies. The two bands met head on. The well drilled, tight formation from Thetwick held fast when it hit the more disorganised, though larger group of Oakharrow men.
Bernard killed the first man with a devastating cut across and into the man’s chest from his Ulfberht bastard sword. It was the man he had been talking to, the Oakharrowers’ leader. Ala found herself instinctively whispering to her horse in elven… it felt as if it were such a very… natural a thing to do. Her countless hours of practice, the powerful horse and her sword that seemed as if it were alive all worked as one. She wove along three of the advancing cattle raiders as if it were a subtle dance, dodging their weapons and placing herself precisely where she needed to be to make effective attacks. Her adversaries were more or less in a line as she bore down on them. Bernard’s hours and hours of drills came to her without conscious thought, the deadly mechanisms she had learned engaged without needing to think. She saw each of her opponents weapons come towards her in slow motion, seemingly giving her aeons to deflect or dodge each attack at leisure as she manoeuvred her blade into the weak spots in each combatants’ defensive sphere. She felt her blade easily cutting through flesh with only the barest indication of resistance. She took one hard hit to her shield from her left, which made her arm ring, but it wasn’t enough to interrupt her charge or disrupt her concentration.
The last of the three men she charged by was cleanly decapitated. His attempt to run her through with an overhand spear thrust was avoided with practised efficiency. She slapped the tip of the weapon lightly with her blade, almost gently guiding it aside, then using the spear’s shaft as a guide to manoeuvre her elf blade into the gap between the man’s helmet and the leather armour he was wearing. She let the weapon find its own way through the man’s neck as she passed him by. She let the speed of the horse pull the blade through his spine as she held it, feeling the angle of the weapon change until it cut itself free of the man’s neck. She pulled the blade back towards her in a low cut, making it ready to attack again if needed.
She was shocked and exhilarated as she brought up her horse and wheeled round, quite prepared to continue the fight, with her sword high. She found she had covered vastly more ground than the others. She wasn’t sure when or how that had happened, she hadn’t intended to stretch the line. There were no more Oakharrowers within threatening range, however, so it wasn’t a problem. Bernard was closest behind her. She had overtaken him in the confusion though she only vaguely remembered passing him by. Bernard brought up his horse, keeping it facing her. He pulled off his helmet and stared at her with a look that radiated a combination of disbelief and pride. As he surveyed the corpses along the route of her advance, his expression changed to shock.
He whispered to himself, swearing, she thought or perhaps it might be a prayer? She looked at the three men on the ground, all quite dead. On the one hand she did not feel much, on the other a she had a sense of disgust. It had been her or them. She’d thought about how she might feel if she was forced to kill long before. She was surprised to discover she was quite at peace with the outcome. She would have preferred not to have killed these men, she decided. They had made their choice however, and she would not be losing any sleep over it. Bernard had given them more than enough chance to turn home. She would also do it again if it was necessary. That decided, she noticed Bernard had a deep cut on his forearm that was dripping blood.
“You alright Ala?”
“I’m fine. You’re hurt though, let me see to that.”
“It’s a scratch. I’m fine.”
He turned his horse to see better up the track to where the remaining Oakharrowers had drawn up.
“Hope those idiots don’t come round for another run. There won’t be enough of them left to carry home the bodies,” he said.
He was despairing of the unnecessary deaths, she realised. It was wasteful, giving her the right word to describe what she was feeling as well. Ala looked back and only now saw that one of their comrades, a man named Peter, had fallen and was lying on the road among the Oakharrow corpses.
“I should go to Peter,” she spurred her horse.
“Wait! If they come again, we have to charge together. You can’t be caught out in the open alone. We’ll be of no use to Peter then.”
She drew up at once, understanding the wisdom of Bernard’s words.
The other militia members were surveying the damage they had done. As each of them realised the swathe she had cut through the enemy formation, their eyes turned to her with an expression of disbelief. One who had ridden up to inspect the decapitated man clapped her on the back as he turned his horse.
“That’s some incredible sword work, Ala. I knew you were good, but gods!”
The other men of the militia closed and turned their horses, reforming their formation, ready to charge once more. Bernard urged his horse forward a bit. The cattle raiders had pulled up their horses around fifty yards down the road, meaning that the two groups had changed places. Now, the militia was in between the Oakharrowers and their way home. They were in disarray. Ala thought they were arguing with one another. Bernard called out.
“If you dismount you may pick up your dead and wounded and go home with no further losses. Accept the Duke’s Peace, or we charge once more. Your choice.”
Their adversaries had begun with an almost two to one numerical advantage, which had been brought down to one to one in a single charge, also losing them their leader. Evidently the Oakharrowers realised this and thought better of continuing their attack. They dismounted and carefully walked towards them to pick up their dead and wounded. Bernard rode a little forward and called for the Oakharrow men to keep their distance while they pulled Peter towards them. He was severely wounded, a spear had pierced his rib cage and lung. He died a few minutes later, drowning in his own blood. There was nothing any of them could do. Ala rounded up Peter’s horse and the others lifted his corpse over the animal’s saddle. Once the raiders had disappeared far enough towards Oakharrow, they rode back to Thetwick. Bernard led the patrols straight to Peter’s house where he dismounted and went straight inside to bring the grim news to Peter’s wife. Ala heard her crying out in grief inside. It was a sound that cut straight into her heart.
Bernard came outside, letting out a great sigh.
“Right lads. Good work, all, today. Oakharrow will think twice about confronting us, I ‘spect. Wish we hadn’t lost Peter, but I’m sure everyone feels that as I do. Get home to you families.”
They couldn’t bring themselves to leave, standing aimlessly outside Peter’s house with the other villagers. Bernard and Ala stayed with Peter’s wife and children until family members arrived. Peter’s two small children were too young to understand what had happened but were clearly frightened. Ala knew the oldest boy, his name was Harald. He was one of the few children that didn’t seem to be scared of her and often came out to wave to her when she rode by. She found herself crying for them, wiping the tears as soon as she could.
Several villagers had followed behind the patrol when they had been seen them returning with a horse with a body draped over it. The villagers solemnly walking a respectful distance behind them had made the scene all the more heart wrenching. Peter had been well liked, a good groom and horse trainer who had made his living on the horse farms of Thetwick. The Duke provided a fair pension to those who fell while serving in the militia. It didn’t temper the tragedy for the family of the man who had been killed.
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