“The people will come, Milord. We must prepare quickly. Mathune, I suspect, will not be able to resist your challenge. But we must not underestimate his cunning.”
“He will want the opportunity to kill me himself. He will want to gloat.” Bain faced Reynce. “And he will bring men with him – on horseback.” The full import of what he had just done made Bain begin to doubt the wisdom of his decision. “Will we be prepared? Will our men arrive?”
“You may count on it, Milord. As soon as the news spreads, and your presence is no longer secret, they will come.”
Bain acknowledged that with a curt bob of his head.
“We are at a distinct disadvantage. Having to leave behind our horses to keep our presence hidden in Exalon means we must unhorse them if we are to fight hand-to-hand.” Reynce looked concerned.
“First we must take the other inn.” Bain turned to a guard. “Gather the men, armed and ready. There is no time to waste.”
“Yes, Milord.” The guard turned on his heel with a quick salute and a grin, and let himself out.
Bain caught Reynce’s eye. “A little too eager for action, I think.”
“They did not come here to sit idle.”
“Hmm. I too, am eager to act. Waiting does not sit well.”
“The other inn, the Horsehead, awaits.” One corner of Reynce’s mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. “But you must remain here under guard.”
“You know I cannot. “ Bain met the taunt directly. “I will not be left behind … though I am not so reckless as to attack without back-up. How soon can we expect our men?”
“I expected as much, though I advise against it.” Reynce looked resigned. “Men are watching already I am certain. As soon as I nail this glove outside the door they will show themselves.”
Bain reddened, and he faced Reynce with fists clenched at his sides. “I did expect to be well guarded but you had no right to withhold that information from me. Do not keep me in the dark again.”
“I apologize, Milord. It will not happen again. I ought to have known by now you would not act rashly.”
Bain’s only acknowledgement was a tight-lipped nod. “Put out the glove. I need to see how many men we have.”
Within the hour nineteen had joined them. Bain wasted no time. He chose three. “You will remain behind to guard this inn. There are prisoners in the cellar. “You,” he pointed to one of the youngest, “relieve that guard there and tell him to join us.”
Reynce stood silent behind Bain’s shoulder as he inspected the remaining men, insuring they were armed and ready.
“Men, we now take the Horsehead. I want our enemies kept alive for questioning. Let no one leave the inn. As we know from what happened here there will be men who are not there by choice. I want to spare them as much as possible.”
Bain saw a few surprised looks and raised eyebrows, mostly from those who had not been present when this inn had been seized. “Those we spare will become allies.”
“Lord Bain is correct.” Reynce stepped forward. “But do not forget your first duty. Lord Bain must not be harmed.”
“Captain Reynce will lead the charge.” Bain nodded to Reynce. “After you, Captain.”
Bain and his men followed Reynce for the short walk to the Horsehead.
“You three, block any escape.” Reynce indicated the front door to the first man and sent the other two to find and block any other exits. “Ready?” When Bain nodded Reynce threw open the door and the troop burst in.
The inn had only four of Mathune’s men in it. The remaining men and three women were locals who had been “conscripted” to protect their families.
The melee was short. The “conscriptees” made themselves scarce if they could, or turned against the four who held them. When it was over one of Mathune’s men lay dead at the feet of a woman who had taken revenge with a knife. She had stabbed him repeatedly. It took some persuasion to convince her to stand down.
When her rage waned the woman explained that both she and her daughter had been raped by him. “It was for my daughter, you see. He had to die.” She began to shake violently, then crumpled onto a stool. “She was only ten years old.” The woman pulled herself back to her feet, stumbled to the far corner and returned cradling a limp body in her arms, tears streaming down her face. “She died of it. He killed my baby. And then left her there like a rag. They laughed at me and would not let me go to her.” The woman sank onto a bench and rocked back and forth, cradling her daughter’s body, able at last, to mourn.
“I understand, Missus. You did right. He deserved to die – and at your hand. And I will see that you are able to give her a proper burial soon.”
Then he turned to Reynce. “Now, Captain, let us question this lot.”
The “conscriptees” were quick to relay more tales of abuse and horror before Bain released them to their families. They learned that when Mathune’s head man here heard Bain had taken the other inn he had sent three of his men to seek out and inform Mathune.
Bain indicated the three of Mathune’s men who remained, turned and chose three of his own to guard them. “Take these pieces of filth and have them join the prisoners at the Crow and Hawk.”
Later, alone with Reynce, Bain said, “Had he not sent those men away they might have been able to attempt a fight.”
“Yes, and I do not doubt Mathune heard the news even before these men could reach him. I suspect he will not keep us waiting long.”
Bain clenched his fists. “We must be ready.”
“Many more of our men will come to our side.”
“Mathune is mine.”
“Milord, may I speak freely?” Reynce faced Bain, eyebrows raised.
“I expect no less. Speak.”
“Milord, I urge restraint. Mathune must be seen to be brought to justice. The people will wish to believe they participate in bringing him low. A quick death will deprive them of that.”
Bain bit back an angry retort, spun on his heel and strode to the door. “We have prisoners to interrogate. You two, come with us.”
Reynce stayed close behind him as Bain marched back to The Crow and Hawk. Neither spoke.
That evening, as they sat together at the corner table at the inn, Bain broke his silence.
“Captain, I must thank you for your guidance and your candor. You are correct about Mathune. If possible, he must have a public execution. I must not let my hatred cloud my actions.”
Reynce looked relieved. “Becoming a leader does not happen overnight, Milord.” He took a long swig of what served for ale at the inn before adding, “You are well on the way already. Your lord father will find he has made a good choice.”
They both sat in a more comfortable silence for a while before Bain spoke again, avoiding Reynce’s eyes by studying his hands, worried that Reynce would not approve, or would disagree. “I hope I do not forget that I am also my mother’s son.”
Reyne gave a low chuckle. “I think you need not have fear of that, Milord … and what she taught you will also stand you in good stead. I have already seen evidence of that.”
After another long pause Bain ventured, “Do you think the castle is secure?” Are you safe, my love? Do you already carry my heir? Will I be welcomed back? He swept that last thought aside with a rough wipe of his hands across his face.
“We left it well guarded, Milord.”
“Hmmmm.”
Chapter Thirty
BATTLE
The Crow and Hawk became a makeshift barracks, crowded with soldiers, many of whom had to sleep in the stables in order to remain nearby. By next morning they were sixty-seven strong and eager for action.
About thirty men and older boys from the town had come at dusk to join them with knives, pitchforks, and whatever they could find to hand. Bain sent three lads under 12 back to their mothers. “Who will look after your families if your fathers die? I applaud your courage but you are needed at home.”
The few horses in the stable had been taken ou
t and corralled, leaving the entire space for the men. Even so, they stood shoulder to shoulder as they listened to the plan, soldier next to local man, the armed beside those with only rage or courage to strengthen their resolve.
When Bain began to speak, all eyes turned to him, rapt, determined. Their silence added weight to their resolve.
“Mathune and his men will be on horseback. If they remain so we will be massacred as we have no horses with us.” Bain met the eyes of several of the local men. “They must be unhorsed – before we engage them with our swords.”
The silence grew uneasy.
“Not all of you will survive. You are not soldiers. I cannot ask you to give your lives in this fight.”
One man in the crowd shouted, “I am ready to die. I will not bow to them.”
“If we do not we will remain slaves to them.”
“Aye, they will rape our wives.”
“Kill our children.”
“We must be free again.”
Bain let the swell of response grow before holding his hand up for silence. “Your courage and resolve does you proud. Here is what you must do.” He reached behind him, took an unlit torch from Reynce, and held it high. “These will be your weapons. Horses fear fire. Try to stay out of sight until they are almost upon us. We, some of my men and I, will stand waiting in sight, swords drawn as though we expect to meet them hand to hand.”
Bain gave them a moment to understand. “When Mathune and his men approach light these torches such that they flame high and wild. Then run at the horse’s heads. Make them rear. Make Mathune’s men fight to remain seated. As soon as this happens my men will race to join you in the melee and engage those that have been unseated, or try to topple those remaining. Your work will be to continue to create as much chaos as possible. Burn the horses and the men if needed. Do whatever you can to get them off their mounts. Spook the horses. If you manage knives in your other hand, slash out at whatever you can reach, horse or man. But, more important, keep the flames in the faces of the horses. Keep them milling and rearing. Do not let the soldiers regain control of them.”
His own men had already been informed of the plan and now began to slap the shoulders of the local men to encourage them. Bain watched as the local men were drawn in, as their confidence and enthusiasm grew.
After several moments Bain again raised the torch and held it high. “One more thing. The horses, once their riders have fallen, will need to be taken out of the way so my men can engage the enemy directly. If you see a horse without a rider, do whatever it takes to get it out of the way. The man who takes a horse out of the way is not a coward. He is doing what is needed to allow my men to fight. It is of the utmost importance.” Bain paused to make sure they understood. “Do not forget this.”
All the men were told where to wait. A scout had arrived earlier and informed Bain where Mathune had been located so they knew which route he would travel into the town, there being only two.
The plan was put into motion. Bain sent the inn’s servant women home and left the inn empty with doors barred and lamps on, to look like it was occupied in case they had misjudged what Mathune would do. By dawn everyone was in place, ready. Ten more of Bain’s men arrived overnight and were sent out again to take up posts along the route where they expected Mathune. Each one had two others with him, ready to feign an ambush and distract Mathune and his men. The men with the torches hovered close by, ready to run out with flames alight as soon as these soldiers shouted the order.
Bain arranged his remaining men, swords drawn and ready, twenty on either side of the road, the remaining thirty-eight across it. He hoped that the last several of his original troop had received the call and would still arrive to add their swords to the fight.
Mathune did not keep them waiting long. By midmorning Bain could hear the distant rumble of horse’s hooves. Moments later he heard a woman’s scream, followed by a sudden silence. He knew she had been cut down. The realization made him shudder and clench his free fist. He took a deep breath and said, just loud enough for most of his men to hear, “Steady, men. He wants us to lose discipline. He knows we are here, waiting.” I hope he does not know the rest of the plan.
Even as he waited, Bain spotted three more of his men. They caught his eye, then faded back into the shadows. He glanced at Reynce, who nodded that he, too, had seen them.
“There will be more.”
Reynce had insisted that Bain stand behind the others in the ranks. “The men know what to do. My work is to fight at your side. We do not want them to lose focus thinking you are at risk.”
“I have seen Mathune at practice. You and I are the only ones skilled enough to match him.”
“He will seek you out.”
“Let him. He is mine.”
“Steady, Milord. Remember your resolve.”
Bain had not answered. Even now, he doubted that he could hold back. Every time he saw himself with his sword poised for the killing thrust he saw Phaera’s face and watched himself plunging the blade into Mathune’s heart.
“Steady Milord.”
Reynce’s quiet voice brought him back to the present.
The sound of the horses’ hooves stilled. Just over the low rise the flutter of a banner announced Mathune’s arrival, though he did not ride into sight. Instead, a lone man took the last steps ahead on foot until he had a clear view of Bain’s men. There, with a mocking salute, the man turned and strode back toward Mathune.
This time Reynce made sure most of the men heard when he repeated Bain’s, “Steady men.”
Mathune’s hated voice rang out as he crested the low rise into view. “What, no horses?” This was followed by a derisive laugh.
When there was no response Mathune gave his order. “Forward, men.”
Bain’s men waited until the horses were in plain sight.
As soon as Mathune saw Bain’s waiting troops he shouted, “Slaughter them all. But Bain is mine,” and surged toward them.
At the same instant Bain heard the signal from his own men in behind, then the whoops of those who had been hidden as they raced toward the horses, torches flaming, weapons drawn.
His troop surged forward into the melee. Horses screamed. Men fell from saddles or had to forget about their swords as they fought to retain their mounts. Whenever one man dropped his torch, or was cut down with it, another picked it up, continuing to harass the horses. Some were trampled before the horses could escape the flames.
Bain watched it as though from above, moving without seeming to guide his limbs. He hacked two men to death, each moment taking him closer to Mathune. When he whirled to meet the next opponent he spotted Reynce engaged with two of Mathune’s men, no longer able to stay by his side.
Now, only two horses remained within the battle, only one of those with a rider. An injured man, torch still in hand, was about to be trampled when he threw himself on his back, under the horse and thrust his torch into the beast’s genitals. The horse kicked back with an anguished scream, threw off his rider and fell on top of the man underneath. A soldier caught the rider with his sword as he fell, killing him.
Bain saw dead and wounded litter the street, not able to tell which side they were on. The soldier he had been fighting lay dead at his feet.
He heard a crow of triumph and whirled to his right, barely deflecting a sword. At the same instant he recognized the man who wielded it. Mathune.
“I have you, whelp.”
They exchanged blow and parry, feint and thrust, an even match. With each move, Mathune taunted Bain.
“Bastard.” Thrust. Clash.
“Coward.”
Bain saved his breath until Mathune threw the taunt that cost him his self-control.
“I have your little whore.” Clash.
Bain barely deflected the thrust.
“I shall break her to my will.”
Feint, parry, slash, whirl.
“She shall bear my bastards.” Parry. Thrust. Clash.
�
��Chained.” Feint. Thrust. “In my dungeon.”
With a roar of rage Bain swung hard with no thought to his own safety. The blow caught Mathune’s wrist. It severed his right hand, the sword still in it. It clattered to the ground. Mathune fell back with a cry, a look of astonishment on his face.
Bain raised his sword to its full height, preparing for the killing blow.
“Lord Bain!”
Reynce’s warning barely penetrated through Bain’s fury.
Again he heard the firm voice. “Enough!” By now Reynce stood at his shoulder.
Bain saw Mathune let go of his bleeding arm and reach for the dagger still sheathed at his waist. Blood pumped in spurts from the sheared wrist. With a wild scream he lunged at Bain with the dagger. Reynce kicked it away before it could reach him and knocked Mathune to the ground, who once more grabbed his wrist to slow the bleeding.
Bain stood with one boot on Mathune’s chest, sword still ready.
Reynce faced Bain, eyes full of warning. “It is over. We have won.”
Under Reynce’s penetrating gaze Bain’s rage ebbed. He steadied. He breathed deeply again.
Reynce repeated, “It is done, Milord. It is done.”
Bain lowered his sword, the motion seemed to take too long, the sword weighed too much, until the tip rested on a cobblestone.
Reynce raised his voice enough that all could hear, but clearly speaking to him alone. “What would you have us do with this prisoner?”
Bain understood. Reynce was telling him to take charge. He wanted the people to see that.
Bain broke from Reynce’s gaze and made himself look at Mathune. “Have his arm bound to stop the bleeding and throw him in the cellar with the others. Let them see what his boasts have come to.”
Reynce gave the order.
Bain looked over the street, littered with men, some dead, some wounded, some his, some Mathune’s, some local. The moans of the wounded brought him back to his duty.
Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn Page 18
