The Kings of Clonmel ra-8 Page 3
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. There 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. Dr
opped 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, preparing 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.
Only the younger apprentices were absent. It was a strict rule that nobody would ever tell an apprentice what lay in store for him at his graduation and so three of the Corps' older Rangers had taken the first- and third-year apprentices (there were no second- or fourth-year trainees this Gathering) to a site well away from the Gathering Ground for a final series of lectures. They would return in time for the feast that followed the inductions.
Crowley was coming to the end of his usual, masterful performance.
'So,' he said, eyes down and reading at breakneck pace as if he wanted to get through the entire matter as quickly as possible, 'you, Clarke of Caraway Fief, and you, Skinner of wherever it is you come from… yes… hang on a minute, where is it… Martinsyde Fief, of course… have completed all aspects of your training and are ready to be inducted as full members of the Ranger Corps. So I hereby induct you, by the authority granted to me as Commandant of the Ranger Corps and blah blah blah and so on and so on and why don't you both shake hands and that should just about do it.'
He stood quickly, gathering his papers, and shook hands perfunctorily with the two startled graduates. 'Bit like a wedding, really, isn't it?'
The two boys looked at o
ne another, then at Crowley. He seemed to notice their bewilderment for the first time and hesitated, looking at them with a puzzled expression. 'Was there something else? Did I miss something?' He scratched his head and did a quick review of events. Will couldn't help grinning as enlightenment seemed to dawn on the Ranger Commandant.
'Oh, of course! You'll want your silver geegaws, won't you?' Crowley beckoned to Skinner and Clarke's two mentors, who stepped forward with the tiny, glittering objects that every Ranger held dear. 'Well, might as well hand 'em over!' he said casually.
Then, as the two Rangers went to hang the Silver Oakleaf amulets round the necks of their former apprentices, the other Rangers stepped out into the clearing, throwing back the cloaks that had concealed them and surrounding the little group.
'Congratulations!'
The massive roar went up through the trees, waking the birds who were roosting among the branches, frightening them into a chorus that echoed the roar of approval. As the Rangers surged forward to congratulate their newest members, pounding their backs, laughing and shaking their hands, Will saw the two surprised faces transformed as Clarke and Skinner realised they had been the victims of a giant practical joke. He also saw the quick tears of pleasure and pride that sprang to their eyes as they realised that now they were fully fledged members of this elite group. He felt his own eyes sting slightly in memory of his moment of realisation, then he stepped forward to take his turn at welcoming the new members.
'Congratulations. It's been a long five years, hasn't it?'
Skinner was currently being hugged by his tearful mother, a rather massively built woman who dwarfed her slim, dark-haired son.
'I'm so proud of you! So proud! If only your father could be here!' she was saying. Skinner managed to extricate himself from her bear hug long enough to shake Will's hand.
'There, there, Mother,' he said. 'It's all right.' Then to Will, he admitted, 'Sometimes I thought I'd never make it.'
Will nodded. 'Particularly over the last few months?' he asked and Skinner's eyes widened in surprise.