by Peter Rhodan
The tanner was helpful although the ideas Arturo put to him were all apparently outside his previous experience. Arturo described the straps required for an efficient backpack and upon finally getting the concept across to the fellow he then found that tanner had become extremely interested in the whole idea and they quickly arranged a beneficial accord whereby Arturo would benefit from the man's use of his idea. Arturo also took the opportunity to acquire a leather vest like Meries had worn from the tanner and was assured that the curved scabbard he had described would be no problem to produce although why you would want a curved scabbard the man couldn't fathom and Arturo chose not to enlighten him.
Arturo took the chance to look over the Rufanig fort which was indeed largely deserted and falling apart. Meries and his men lived in the large building towards the far end away from the village which they had tied up to some extent, but the rest looked to be in need of some major repairs. It did have a surprisingly good sanitation system for such a primitive tech world with the stone-built latrines outside the wall near the stream being a simple yet effective design that would have served the garrison well. It also had a small bath house which turned out to be nothing like what Arturo was expecting and the fort had once sported its own bakery, which building looked like it had been raided by the locals for materials. The overgrown stone barracks could hold maybe five hundred men at a pinch Arturo decided although a couple of hundred would be more comfortable. The tile roofs would obviously need to be refurbished but all in all it would serve as a good base of operations without too much work.
Arturo tried to get some idea of how much the fort was used and Oween replied that there had not been any permanent garrison in generations although it had been used regularly by troops passing through up till recent times. With the general withdrawal of Rufanig troops which had occurred some years previously it only saw very irregular use. “These days the tax collecting cavalry from Luguwalion are about the only Rufanig the old place sees.”
Chapter 7
Meeting the locals
They had barely started on the way back towards the valley with the lakes when they decided to call in on the young blacksmith again to see about getting a guard fitted on Arturo's pole to protect his fingers as that was one trouble he had found when using it as a weapon sparring with Oween using one of the swords. On top of that Arturo had been so pleased to discover the blacksmith in Dervent had some idea of how to make copper pipes that he wanted to see if Ceri knew as well as he felt the young blacksmith was more the type of fellow he wanted to work with.
As they entered the muddy path that ran through the centre of the small collection of houses they discerned the noise of an altercation coming from up ahead. A small boy was hiding behind a bush between two of the round houses peering up the way towards the blacksmith's house and jumped in startlement when he realised they were right behind him.
“Hey boy.” Oween said loudly. The lad had turned his face towards the two men with worry and sudden fear contorting his features. “What’s afoot?” Oween enquired gentling his tone at the boy's obvious fear.
The lad settled down after a moment when he realised he was not in danger and glanced back up the path. “Four of Dagobert’s men are fighting the blacksmith.” The boy said nervously.
Oween glanced at Arturo and began running towards the blacksmith’s forge. Arturo hesitated a moment then followed. He had not really wanted to get involved in local politics or violent skirmishes this soon, without being totally sure of the situation. Mind you Dagobert and his chaps sounded like they could do with a good sorting out, but it wasn’t really his job. Only he wanted Ceri as his blacksmith, young and hopefully flexible, so, well, into the fray!
The clangs of combat grew louder as they rapidly approached the building, a sound that was completely different to the swishing noise of fencing or the dull thunks of his own martial art. One of the presumed assailants was leaning against the door frame obviously the worse for wear, blood trickling down the side of his face from some sort of head wound. He yelled as they ran up and made to block the way, coming fully erect and bringing up his sword.
Arturo swung his staff, knocking aside the sword easily with the force exerted by the swing and using the continuation of the stroke to rotate the pole around with the other end of the pole taking the man in the face, seemingly laying him out instantly. Oween continued past him into the forge with Arturo only a step behind. Inside Oween moved towards the two men that had Ceri pinned in the corner. Arturo turned to the right where another man was hitting the journeyman with a lump of wood. This man sensed something happening and turned just as Arturo arrived within range. The bravo desperately blocked Arturo’s first stroke with his makeshift wooden staff and even managed the backswing Arturo attempted but Arturo’s metal staff was considerably longer than the lump of wood the man held and Arturo followed through with a low swing that caught the man’s right leg and his knee crumpled with the fellow going down stricken by the blow. Arturo moved forward and dodging a feeble swing of the man’s piece of wood he drove the end of the metal rod into the man’s head with a satisfying thud. The villain collapsed immediately and Arturo turned to find the fight over.
Oween had engaged one of the two men facing Ceri. On the third time their swords crossed, the man’s sword snapped and before he could react to this disaster Oween counter swung his own sword and sliced the fellow open from the neck right across the breast, the battle armour sword slicing through bone effortlessly. The man died still staring at his broken sword.
The other bravo had found himself rapidly becoming outnumbered and although he appeared to be the better swordsman he hadn’t been able to get through the young blacksmith’s guard. Glancing around at the changed circumstances he decided discretion was the better option and made a break out the rear of the smithy. Oween went after him but gave up when the man took off running down the lane toward Breansallyn.
Arturo checked the man he had felled but he was dead, the side of skull smashed in by the metal staff. He went to the aid of the journeyman but Dryffyd seemed okay, or at least he said he was, although he was holding his left arm awkwardly. Ceri had gone to his father but the old man was beyond help. A sword stroke had pierced his chest, killing him almost immediately. Arturo came over and put his arm around the large blacksmiths shoulder.
“He tried to help,” Ceri managed to say hoarsely, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back tears. “Stupid old man, he couldn’t even protect himself!” He broke off as he became completely choked up.
Just then his mother appeared at the door. “Ceri?” She said then looked relieved that he was clearly intact. The smith was between her and his father and at first she didn’t realise what had happened. She looked around at the others then back as Ceri moved to one side and thus could see her husband. With a cry she flew to his side and cradling his head began crying over his body.
Arturo looked outside to check on the first man they had met but that assailant had taken himself off as well. “So what happened?” He asked.
“They came to find out about you two, well Oween really. Gwillam saw the dagger and wanted it but when I wouldn’t sell he got demanding and well I wouldn’t back down.”
Arturo looked sourly at the sobbing woman and the body of Ceri’s father. “Which one was Gwillam?”
“The one I was fighting at the end who escaped. Dagobert will be along for certain to revenge these two." He paused to wave at Oween and Arturo's handiwork lying in crumpled positions on the floor. "He can’t let this go you know. Too much of a challenge to his authority. People around here might start looking to Meries as their overlord. So, yeah, he’ll be here in due course.” Ceri said shaking his head despondently at the vision he had of the impending descent of Dagobert and his bully boys.
Oween clapped the young blacksmith on the shoulder by way of support but spoke to Arturo on Ceri’s other side. “He be right! Dagobert has to come and sort us out just to maintain his own position amongst h
is followers, let alone lording it over everyone around here. Presuming they are all at home it won’t take more than two hours for them to get back here, might be a little longer if they take the time to armour up.”
“Right.” Arturo acknowledged. “How many men is he likely to bring?”
Oween thought for a moment, did some counting on his fingers, the corners of his mouth turned downwards as he obviously reached an unwelcome conclusion. “Six or seven, plus himself. Although that clown who was out front probably won’t be of much use. He’ll almost certainly be mounted, has a nice horse too, probably four of the others will be armoured as well, and they’ll all have shield and spear.”
“I can fight.” Said Ceri.
“I can too!” Put in the journeyman Dryffyd pulling the sword from the scabbard of the man Arturo had felled. He didn’t look all that comfortable holding the weapon.
“Can you use that sword?” Oween asked the burly journeyman who nodded emphatically to indicate he could. “Hmmph.” Was Oween’s only comment.
“Looks to be in better nick than your old sword.” Arturo said to Oween who glanced at his old sword which he was wearing on his right side then looked at the one the journeyman was holding and nodded.
“I’ll go tell everyone what is happening.” Said Dryffyd shoving the sword through his belt in what Arturo thought a most dangerous manner but before he could comment the fellow disappeared out the door. Ceri went over and comforted his distraught mother while Arturo tried to get as much information from Oween about their impending foes as he could while the two of them moved the two ruffians’ bodies outside and then tried to clean up the blood stains.
Arturo turned to Oween. “What about Meries?”
Oween shook his head. “Out of his area. Besides he won’t want to take on Dagobert with only his son and that idiot Gwillem.”
“Damn. No hope of help eh?”
Oween shook his head. “Not from me cousin. He’s a good fellow really but not very adventurous and puts a lot of store by being Mair of Derventio, as he calls it when he’s laying at being a Rufanig. This.” And he waved his hand around to indicate the village. “Is just too far away, besides being in Dagobert’s claimed area.”
Arturo nodded and they dealt with bodies, taking them outside, about a hundred paces from the smithy towards the stream that ran behind the hamlet and starting to dig a trench to bury them in. The ground was soft and they soon accomplished their task and returned to the smithy. A period of time later there was a noise at the door and an older man dressed in typical farming clothes came in carefully. Arturo had repossessed his staff while Oween’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword but both relaxed at the site of the grey-haired farmer. “Dryffyd told me about Davyn, I’m his cousin Myron.” His eyes strayed to where his dead cousin was still being cradled by his widow. “Oh Dahlia!” He muttered and went to Ceri’s mother's side.
When told of how his cousin had been killed he offered to join the stand against Dagobert. Ceri took him by the shoulders. “That’s very brave of you Myron but you’re not a warrior and you’re even older than dad was. I appreciate you offering but you have no training and I don't want you dead too!”
It took a little more than this to convince Myron that his offer to help while appreciated was not needed, but eventually he took himself off muttering loudly about idiotically brave nephews to no one in particular as he left. He was replaced by several villagers who came to enquire as to what had transpired. As soon as Ceri told them that Dagobert was coming they all rapidly disappeared without any of them offering any assistance in the fight. Before long Arturo realised that not only were they not interested in helping but all those that lived in the immediate area were, if not running away, beating a strategic retreat with their families and such of their possessions they could carry. To be fair they were all of them farmers not fighters but even so Arturo was not overly impressed with their manliness.
The only exception was a fairly tall man who arrived just as the last of others were leaving. Although he carried himself upright he walked slowly and Arturo realised that his left foot was actually a wooden stump. He was accompanied by a young woman dressed plainly but who also walked upright in a self-confident manner Arturo had not seen in the other farmer’s wives and daughters. He had landed in what he had realised from his conversations with Oween was a heavily patriarchal society and so far, most of the women he had seen all kept their heads down and said little in public. This girl was obviously cut from a different cloth which could prove interesting. Both the newcomers had medium brown hair, were relatively tall and on closer inspection their clothes appeared somewhat better quality than Arturo had come to expect from the locals with some really fancy red and blue embroidery on the hem and sleeve ends of the single piece but nicely cut tan dress the young woman was wearing. Here clearly was some one of substance and his daughter.
As they approached Arturo caught Oween and the girl exchange some sort of look or nod, the exact meaning of which he could not decipher. The man appeared to be in his late forties whilst the girl was more difficult to estimate, she could have been twenty perhaps but just as likely was a good deal younger. The man apparently missed the subtle interchange between Oween and the girl but he obviously shared the same opinion of Oween as most other people Arturo had met, given the definite frown he directed towards Arturo's offsider. He did however smile and clasp arms with Ceri.
“I came as soon as I heard Ceri. Dryffyd called in to tell me the news. It’s a bad business. How can I help you?”
“There is not much I think you can do Arcadius but thank you for offering.” Ceri answered, carefully not looking at the man’s foot as he spoke. “We’ve got Dagobert heading our way and I’m going to stand and fight him with Arturo here but that’s our decision. You had best see Briffet safe somewhere away from here Arcadius in case things go against us.”
The man Arcadius did not look too keen on this course of action and looked ready to argue but his daughter put her hand on his arm to forestall him. “Ceri’s right Father. Come on, we had best be going. Dahlia, why don't you come with us to where it will be safer." She went over and pried the woman free from her husband then turned to her father. "I know you don’t want to leave them to stand on their own father but you can’t fight effectively nowadays and you know it.” She glanced meaningfully at the woman she was holding. “Help me take Dahlia out of here, please.”
Arcadius still looked like he wanted to argue his usefulness but noting his daughter's glance reluctantly nodded his acceptance and went over to help guide Dahlia out. “Right, I’m not happy about this but I’ll go.” He waved his wooden stump. “Damn this leg!” The bitterness in his voice was gratingly clear but he clasped arms briefly with Ceri who had come over to help shepherd his mother out and the three headed off at his slow hobble. Briffet snuck a quick glance back and smiled for Oween which Arturo noticed and then the four of them were left to themselves, Dryffyd had come trotting back just after Arcadius and his daughter had arrived, done with spreading the word around the area.
Arturo glanced around the small collection of now deserted houses and commented sourly. “It’s always a pleasure to see such a strong martial attitude amongst the citizenry.” Although in truth he could not blame them given the reputation of this Dagobert character. And most Federation civilians would have been just as keen to bug out he had to admit to himself, at least those without military training.
Oween barked out a laugh. “Oh aye.” He commented clapping Arturo on the shoulder.
“Can’t blame them. Dagobert really is a nasty piece of work.” Ceri observed and Dryffyd nodded agreement, still breathing heavily after his messenger service. The four stood there for a bit in silence Arturo thinking of what he could do to get them out of this mess. He had limited experience with small time thugs and criminals from his own world or from ports he’d visited after joining the Navy. And then it struck him that he was probably dealing with a similar mindset to the up
per-class bullies he had met at Naval College, albeit a far more murderous version thereof. He tossed this thought around in his mind considering it before opening his mouth.
“So how susceptible is this Dagobert going to be to big man syndrome?” Arturo asked.
Ceri looked unsure as to what Arturo was asking. Dryffyd shook his head in puzzlement as likewise while Oween frowned. “Big man syndrome? I have no idea what you are asking.” Ceri said after a moment.
“It’s a term from where I come from. What I mean is, is he just going to order his men to roll over us or if I call him out personally, will he have to face me to keep his position secure with his men?”
Ceri shrugged, Dryffyd appeared to be considering the matter, and Oween continued frowning. Arturo looked from one to the other and was about to elaborate the point further when Oween nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe?” Arturo responded.
“Maybe.” Oween repeated. “I couldn’t guarantee he’ll respond to a personal challenge, especially if it was from me, but he doesn’t know you so, maybe.” He paused a moment considering the matter further before continuing. “He very likely would, especially if you’re rude and only armed with what he sees as nothing more than a pole. That alone would make it hard for him not to accept a personal challenge. He has a temper and an ego so it could work.” Oween looked at Arturo for a second or two obviously weighing things up in his mind. “He’ll be mounted, most like, but even so I think you can actually take him, if you can get him to fight one on one, but even if you win there is still a problem of his men. Radovas is a pretty mean son of a bitch too.”
