Bernhart looked towards Garel as he made this last comment, clearly denoting that there had already been a debrief between the head of Oaks Keep and the garrison commander.
Garel took the opportunity to continue the briefing. “It is situated just north of Bereofs Town on the borders of Coombe and Middleswake and, before you ask sir, no, Bereofs Town garrison commander has been unwilling to commit any men to the venture at this point, although I believe it is something that is still up for discussion”.
Garel addressed this last comment at the most troublesome merchant, anticipating his next outburst of feigned indignation.
“The camp is still in the Weald of Sommerswake so it is our problem to deal with and, deal with it gentleman, we shall. Whilst it is nearer Bereofs Town, almost all of the raiding is actually taking place on the roads over which we here in Sommerswake hold jurisdiction”.
It started to dawn on Torr why this meeting had been called and, specifically, why they had been invited. Their labour force at the shipyard easily accounted for fifty men as a minimum, sometimes quite a bit higher, depending on the stage of ship building they had reached. Momentarily, Torr forgot his place in all this and began to open his mouth to exclaim that their workers were not fighters, save for a retinue of a few of them, but Garel continued before Torr could draw his breath. “As I eluded to earlier, we just need a few more men”. He looked at Bernhart again as he continued. “We believe around forty more men would be sufficient for our plan which is why, gentleman, we have called you all here as heads of households who, between you, could assist”.
Torr saw the blustering merchant seemed to be on the verge of another tirade but something appeared to be holding him back as Garel continued, something that, once again, was making the hairs on the back of Torr’s neck stand up. He glanced over at Bernhart and saw the wizard appeared to be focused intently on the merchant. If anyone else felt the palpable sensation that Torr did, they did not show it.
“I am convinced this issue will now only get worse and that it is only a matter of time before the bandits strike at a larger target. Possibly Tantes, possibly even us. Particularly if they realise the small size of my garrison on its own”, continued Garel. “It is therefore in all our interest’s to deal with this together. Given the families I have called here today, I am hopeful you will agree to this. If so, we can then get to planning the attack”.
“If you have calculated the number of men required then, presumably Garel, you already have a plan in place?” Torr was surprised to see his father had stood to raise this question.
“Yes we do indeed Aelboric”. Garel responded, almost sounding grateful that someone had raised a question that would actually take the meeting forward, “Again, I will ask Bernhart to fill you in”. As Bernhart Rowe rose again, Torr heard the objectionable merchant splutter and wheeze, almost as if he was catching his breath after having had his head dunked underwater.
As Torr was sat next to his father, Bernhart was looking in his direction. He thought he caught the flicker of a wink from Bernhart as he continued the address. “Thank you...Aelboric Skarsdale I believe, yes....a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir and this is...?” Bernhart looked directly at Torr. “My youngest son sir, Torr, yes, a pleasure to meet you as well”.
Aelboric acknowledged the man without sounding toady, who then continued. “Well gentleman, as I have said, the palisade is well protected and the tree clearances on all sides means it cannot be approached by stealth. There are lookout towers on all approaches that appeared occupied by keen eyed gaestnips and there are doubtless patrols and scouts for miles around. In fact gentleman, I should say from the evidence of bones I saw that hapless wanderers to the area, whatever their reason for straying from the roads, have given our unwanted guests some considerable entertainment and meals!”
Most around the table were now open mouthed at the amount of information that this permanently smiling and mild mannered gentleman was able to offer about the workings of quite a large and organised bandit camp. Bernhart was about to continue when he appeared to catch the stares of those listening to him. “Ahh...I should say gentleman that I am not without...umm... certain skills and knowledge, shall we say, that kept me well hidden from our friends at the camp”.
Bernhart continued as those around the table remembered this man’s status and profession. “Anyway, there is a tunnel that leads directly into what was the courtyard of the camp. It was doubtless an escape route for the royalists who built and used the camp so they could melt into the countryside in the event of attack from the wealds forces”. Bernhart looked between Garel and Efean Valheimer. “Sorry to bring up past conflicts gentlemen”, he said with a pained expression. Garel and Valheimer looked a little nonplussed but acknowledged Bernhart with due deference anyway.
The Valheimers were one of the larger winners of The Weald Civil War. When the last hereditary monarch of all seven wealds was killed at The Battle of Kings End over one hundred years ago now, the Valheimers, whose forces fought against the royalists anyway, assumed control of Sommerswake along with six other prominent families from the other wealds, to form a new ruling council, albeit one that still required the blessing of The Church of the Sunlord.
“In any event sirs”, Bernhart continued, “From what I could see, it does not look like this palisade actually saw any action, both from my own observations and our records at Oaks Keep. This also means that the escape tunnel was never used and, thus far, has remained undetected by the gaestnips”.
Bernhart looked to Garel, the pause in the wizard’s field intelligence allowing the garrison commander to continue the briefing, giving some hope that this was, therefore, quite a well thought out plan.
“The tunnel though is narrow and it is doubtful that we could get enough men out into the courtyard to form an effective fighting formation before the gaestnips knew what was going on. However, if we can draw their main force out and engage it, we can then strike out of the tunnel relatively unopposed”. No one in the room was really an experienced military man which Garel realised after there was no reaction to his strategy. “Basically gentleman, we will feign an attack from the outside and then those coming out of the tunnel will shove their swords up the arse of the gaestnips!”
Fortunately, the room caught on quickly to these plainer comments. Above the general murmurs of approval though, Garel continued. “Well, when I say swords, I should perhaps say teeth and claw as that part of the plan actually calls for The Dog Pack of Kartha”. Garel nodded to the man who had earlier been introduced as Ahred Ulher, the captain of the mercenary group that, completely unbeknown to Torr, had come back with his father from his last trip south.
Clearly, his father had been aware of this for some time prior to his departure then, but had not told him. Torr wondered if Aelfsige knew.
This time Ahred stood and spoke without really the slight bow to his audience that all others present here were accustomed to. When he spoke, he did so with quite a strong Suthrasian accent albeit still in perfect Weald.
“Health to you gentleman” was his opening etiquette instead as he jumped straight into his own part of the briefing. Torr saw he was not particularly tall but his leather armoured cuirass actually had a number of notches, as did the scabbard on his sword, clearly denoting previous strike marks. The insignia of a war dog in the centre of his armour though was unblemished.
“We can mask the scent of the dogs from the gaestnip filth, either through fair wind or other means”. Again there was a nod in the direction of Bernhart at this last comment. “Once the foe is committed to your forces outside the camp, then we will release the dogs through the tunnel upon their flanks and they will feast upon your enemy”. There was conviction with the captain’s advice and, certainly by this point into the briefing, no more interruptions of doubt from anyone at the meeting. Torr looked at the fat merchant again who looked far meeker, almost dazed. Torr looked at Bernhart again who was simply paying attention to the mercenary now.<
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Garel then chipped in. “Our job, gentlemen, will be to gain the gaestnip’s attention by simply marching up to their fort and getting them to commit to our forces. They will obviously need to open the gates and attack us. We will then simply hold and fix the bulk of their forces whilst they are then torn apart from behind. When they break, we can then give chase as well”. There was continued silence from the table. “It is important we leave none alive, save maybe one, who we will send on his way to tell any bandit within a hundred miles of here that we are not to be fucked with, if you will excuse the parlance. If we let enough of them get back inside, they will just regroup. We need to finish this now”. Garel thumped the table with a lightly mailed fist.
The band around the table nodded to each other, causing Garel and Bernhart to exchange glances again and smile. “So gentleman, with your approval and, more importantly, manpower, we will proceed with haste. We need to prosecute this plan at the earliest opportunity, before Ahred’s dogs eat me out of house and home!”
There was laughter at this last comment as individual discussions broke out around the table and Ahred performed a mock bow.
“Just one more thing before we adjourn gentleman, we are obviously only expecting individuals with fighting experience or volunteers to accompany us”. Garel was now having to raise his voice a little over the excited chatter as the individuals in question now started to discuss amongst themselves what great warriors they could count amongst their staff and retinues.
“And Aelboric, is your son ready?” Initially, Torr just presumed they were referring to Aelfsige but he immediately picked up on his father’s discomfort at this comment. Garel was looking directly at Torr as well. By this time very few people were paying attention as they discussed the plan amongst themselves and got up to talk with others who were sitting elsewhere around the table when the briefing began. Torr turned to his father, with startled concern.
“Truth be told Garel”, Aelboric spoke to the garrison commander whilst looking directly at his son, “I hadn’t actually had the time to tell him..ahh...my apologies”.
Garel seemed unconcerned by the admission. “Oh well, no time like the present then”. Garel continued to look at Torr. “You will be leading the small cavalry detachment young man”.
CHAPTER FIVE
T o begin with, the ride back after the meeting was just as silent as the journey there, between Aelboric and his son. There had been a brief conversation with Bernhart Rowe, who made a point of coming over to them, politely making reference to the fine shape cut by Aelboric’s ships as they past Oaks Keep, which was close to the coast, south of Drim Forest.
“I gather from your reaction son, that this was all news to you...including the part that you will play”. Before Torr could answer, as he was still generally lost for words, his father responded. “Ah..yes sir, something of an oversight on my part what with only having just returned from Sha Haram with the Dog Pack you see..ahh, we shall discuss his part as we return home”.
Bernhart shook both their hands. As he did, Torr felt that tingling on his neck again and Bernhart’s smile widened. “I have every faith in you good sirs. We shall meet again. I have stirred up this hornet’s nest, only fair I should come along to lend a hand with its prosecution”. Again, Torr wondered what help a man of Bernhart’s appearance could be, before reminding himself that he was apparently standing in front of one of Gaerd’s master wizards.
The meeting adjourned shortly afterwards, but not before each merchant readily pledged men to Garel and Efaen, now in a typical bid to outdo each other for status, rather than consider the quality of the men they were offering.
Aelboric suggested he could spare nine men, which would include Caenet the horse master. At the mention of Caenet, Torr’s nerves lessened a bit more. At least he would have the experience of a seasoned cavalry sergeant to draw on then. Still, this was clearly no laughing matter and if his father wanted to teach him a lesson then, well, job done.
Torr was deep in thought though on the ride home. His mind raced about the plan. Whilst it was still mainly nerves, fear and apprehension, a small degree of curiosity had also started to settle about exactly what part his (even the term ‘his’ caused some nerves) cavalry unit would have to play in the attack.
As they rode out of Paega and back to Home Manor, Torr eventually decided to ask his father what would happen next. “You and the men will undertake training and drills up at the garrison, starting in a couple of days, that’s all I know son”. Aelboric turned to Torr as he continued. “You are the family’s representative now on this venture. Sometimes we have to fight to keep what we want and take responsibility for our position here”. His tone grew softer though as he continued. “But I pray to The Sunlord with all my heart that everyone comes back from this affray in one piece”. His voice started to tail off. “But I fear my prayers will not be answered”.
They got home in time for a prepared supper which Aelboric said he and Torr had to cut short. Apparently, Torr was not the only one who knew nothing about this. Caenet looked annoyed when they told him. Aelboric took to the foreman’s platform in the main shipyard to address his workers and outline the plan. Even after the obvious dangers were expressed, more than the eight men Aelboric had pledged volunteered. Some were clearly thinking of the more adventurous side and the tall tales they could tell in the taverns, to the ladies, when they returned. Aelboric picked the men he could spare from each part of the new hull that was well underway.
Aelboric had mentioned that Gaerulf, his ship’s captain, would obviously have been a very good addition to this attack but he, and his ten marines, who now included Barak, the former foreman, were now just leaving with Aelfsige on their ship.
Aelboric then had to make arrangements to fill in for the absent workers and change the shifts, according to the remaining workers skills, something that normally he would leave to Aelfsige.
Aelboric told Torr he would deal with this. There was a more even and normal tone between them now. His mother had wept though and Torr found himself telling Mae that it would be alright, before he returned to his room.
The news had not sunk in yet and he did not sleep well.
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He woke early the next day, not that he had really been asleep since just before sunrise anyway. It was the last day of Highsun. The winds had been warm this year and there was certainly no sign of change to wetter or windier weather. At least the cavalry would therefore have firm going under them, making them slightly more effective and easier to turn, if needs be. Not that he still knew anything about his role in all this. He had most of the morning to over analysis what might be required of him, eating little before his father told him it might be a good idea for him now to go see Caenet and the others to prepare for the trip to Valheimer’s garrison, just north of Paega itself.
Torr did as his father asked. Caenet still seemed stern. He was probably the only one with any true military experience amongst the group. He appointed a sergeant from all the other men, who would fight on foot and then asked Caenet to accompany him to the stables to pick the best supplies and horses as his father had suggested. Torr knew he really needed to start thinking for himself if he was going to carry off the facade of being the cavalry officer in charge.
Still Caenet got into the swing of things a little when they reached the stable and went about taking the best tack and discussing which horse to take. “Right, well Scout’s a no go I suspect” said Caenet, much to Torr’s relief. “Obviously we don’t know what’s required of us yet, whether we’ll be in the thick of it or not, but, it’s a safe bet if there is giantkin amongst our enemy, we’ll be better off with the biggest horses we’ve got”. Torr had obviously relayed everything he knew about the plan. Caenet had listened intently and did not seek to correct or interrupt Torr at any point, suggesting he had at least explained what he knew in a well ordered fashion.
“Well, we will know more when we get there lad, b
ut, I’ll tell you this, I had hoped never to see giantkin again. They can rip a warhorse in two whilst munching on its rider and their speed is deceptive, even the big ones. I’ll tell you boy”, Caenet was getting into his stride now, “I’ve seen ones as tall as our ships! If they are that big, we’re done for”. Torr tried to nod politely without letting on that Caenet’s last comments had almost made him soil himself!
Caenet seemed to be looking elsewhere, beyond the walls of the stables, clearly recalling some horror that Torr did not want to know about. The cavalryman shook his head a little and then looked at Torr, standing to attention and saluting as he did so, as he remembered his soldiering ways. “But don’t you worry sir, Sergeant Caenet of the fourth heavy company will see you right”. He winked at Torr as he saluted and gave him a pat on the back as they left.
Torr slept only slightly more than the night before. He was genuinely a little tired as he had taken it upon himself to practise some horsemanship as well. He had been tempted to take Scout out for another run but realised he would really need to take the heavy horse to acquaint himself. Scout gave Torr a withering look as he took Raelf, the heavy horse, out. Raelf was surprisingly quick though. Caenet had spent some time with Torr as well, getting their horses used to charging at each other, whilst they made as much noise as possible. “If we are going up to the garrison for a week, then they will drum it into the horses’ more then....but we would need more than a week to do it properly. Still, these buggers are used to all the crap that goes down at the docks without losing their caravans...and that can often resemble a battlefield”. Caenet laughed as he finished, taking the opportunity to give Torr’s shield a good bash with his mace, just to try and catch the young man off guard. Torr was quick though and raised his shield and braced himself before the impact.
Both were using their own gear. As a sergeant, Caenet had been allowed to keep his after he was retired from service. Both had maces, which was standard fare for weald cavalrymen, rather than swords. The maces had long shafts for extra reach and momentum, especially designed for cavalry. Torr could not answer Caenet when the older man asked if they would have lances as well.
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