Sat atop his horse, Lord Romley perused the surrounding area, pleased at his choice of location. With a river running behind him it effectively gave him the cover he needed to avoid being attacked in the rear of his lines. In addition, it also gave him a good source of water for the soldiers and their horses, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the glow of campfires started taking hold, and the majority of his men got some well-deserved rest. Although still being confirmed, and changing frequently, his losses had been far less than anticipated. The injured, he knew, would only slow him down further, and hence, as from tomorrow morning, Lord Romley had already ordered them to be escorted back away from the battle lines.
Lord Romley’s attention was drawn to a small group of riders holding lamps aloft, giving away their positions in the darkening surroundings. Evidently wanting to be seen, he duly ordered a small group of his own soldiers to ride out and meet them to see who they were and more importantly what they wanted? Manoeuvring his own horse between the rows of white canvas tents that were being erected, he positioned himself just short of his new front line awaiting the outcome of the meeting. He watched as the two small groups of riders closed to within about twenty paces of each other before stopping. Unable to see little more than the flickering lights and the faint darkened outlines of the riders, he fidgeted in his saddle, waiting impatiently. Thankfully, the two groups appeared to move again, and now amalgamated into one slightly larger party, they headed back towards his own position.
Still sat atop of his horse, Lord Romley waited and watched as the newcomers approached and once they were close by they slipped down from their horses. One man stepped forward, paused and bowed his head just a little.
“Lord Romley?” the man asked.
“Yes,” he said, thinking just that single word was sufficient enough.
“Lord Mangilly has sent us north to get an update, and of course to let you know of his and Lord Ashton’s own progress.”
“Very good…Well as you can see we have already broken through the main defensive line and are now heading towards Bargsea.”
“Yes, My Lord. Our own landings were a success, and we have already captured several towns. In addition, we have taken one of the southern lords into custody and persuaded him to change sides.”
“Really?” Lord Romley replied sounding somewhat surprised. “Please tell me more…Come, Let my men attend to your horses, and join me for some refreshments.”
Lord Romley listened on as one of the messengers explained exactly what had happened to date in the southern part of Endallen. It seemed that things had also gone better than expected down there too, and the fact that Lord Mangilly and Lord Ashton had won over the support of one the southern lords was to be commended; even if they had done so by capturing him. Like his counterparts, Lord Romley was fully aware that once the Endallen lords started losing faith in the man they served, others would follow. Perhaps, he thought, all this might yet be over sooner than anyone had anticipated. Unsure as to how Lord Dalby was doing, all he could do was press on as planned, something which he told the messenger. All being well he hoped to make Bargsea within the next twenty-four hours, and in due course would meet up with the other forces as pre-arranged.
In Bargsea, Lord Elthan was placed under arrest and heavily guarded. Although allowed to remain in one of the rooms as opposed to a prison cell, he had been afforded far more luxury than his son had been given in Miranor. However, Lord Dalby was not doing all this because it was the gentlemanly thing to do in respecting the status of the man he had captured. Quite the contrary, Lord Dalby would have loved nothing more than to see Lord Elthan suffering and wallowing in the filthiest dungeon he could find. Yet, by allowing his prisoner some comfort and to be at least appearing to show him some respect, Lord Dalby hoped to achieve something else. Rather than annoy and alienate the man, Lord Dalby hoped that his prisoner might be somewhat more amenable if he was treated well. As to whether this approach would work, he guessed only time would tell.
Finding themselves in a somewhat strange situation, whereby the forces of the king held the inner part of Bargsea, as well as having soldiers located throughout the outer parts ready to move at a moments notice, the capital was still technically under the control of Endallen forces. Lord Dalby had taken it upon himself to have a good rummage through all Lord Elthan’s papers, seeing if there was anything there that might suggest the man’s next move. However, aside from the map that showed where Lord Elthan hoped to hold the king’s forces and a few lists of troop numbers promised by his lesser nobles, there was little else of interest. While the capture of Lord Elthan and his home was a big coup for Lord Dalby, he was somewhat disappointed by the lack of discovery of the stolen crown. While a new, much simpler version had been made for the coronation of Luca, returning the original would surely have brought yet more kudos to his family name. While taking credit for such things was always beneficial in keeping favour with the king, Lord Dalby knew it was all secondary to winning the war; something that was at least a little nearer to being achieved.
After checking in on his prisoner, and unsurprisingly receiving a less than warm welcome, Lord Dalby headed down the steps to the main doors. With the papers that he had gathered from the office in his hand, he headed to down the lower levels, typically where the treasury was kept. With his own men now guarding the lower levels he asked one of them to bring one of the burning lamps hanging from the walls. Lord Dalby waited while the soldier did as was asked and duly opened the large oak door that led into the treasury room. In the flickering lamplight, Lord Dalby was somewhat disappointed by what he found within the room. Barely eight feet by six feet, the room was much smaller than he had thought, but more importantly, it contained very little of note. A small wooden chest that was unlocked contained a few dozen gold and silver coins, and while to many, this would have been an absolute fortune, for somebody like Lord Elthan it would normally be considered nothing more than loose change.
This find could only mean one of two things. Either Lord Elthan was holding his money in another treasury room or perhaps even in another town, or the man was all but broke. Lord Dalby actually believed the latter to be true. Financing soldiers, gaining favour with some of the Brenthellin minor nobles would not have come cheaply. Having failed in his attempt to steal all the gold from the crown’s own treasury, it seemed Lord Elthan was running low on funds. While there may have been another stash somewhere else, the fact there was so little in what was essentially the main vault did indeed suggest that Lord Elthan was not the wealthy man many perceived him to be. There could, of course, be other explanations for the lack of gold in the vault, perhaps it might have been moved to a safer place, maybe even given to one of the other Endallen nobles to keep until after the fighting was over. After all, Lord Elthan must have known his home would come under attack at some point, and while he may not have envisaged being defeated so quickly and easily, it would have been prudent to move his own fortune just in case.
“Have that taken to my room,” Lord Dalby asked the soldier beside him, indicating to the small chest.
“As you wish, My Lord,” The man replied.
With the day drawing to a close, and no desire to start questioning Lord Elthan about where the rest of his gold was hidden, Lord Dalby headed back up to the room he had selected as his own. Although not elaborate in any way, and best described as functional, he had stayed in far worse. Probably used as a guest room for non-important dignitaries, it was basic in both decoration and furnishing. A bed with a small table beside it, a chest of drawers, a table with two chairs and a washstand that was positioned in the alcove next to the fireplace.
After lighting an additional lamp and placing it on the table, Lord Dalby sat himself down on one of the chairs and started to peruse the pile of papers he had collected from Lord Elthan’s office. Although merely inventory’s and lists of various things, he hoped to build a picture of what was going on. Several entries of additional food being ordered would
suggest that Lord Elthan had intended to try and hold out in Bargsea for the winter. Perhaps that was why the vault was so low on funds?
Between two other pieces of paper, Lord Dalby then discovered something a little more interesting. Scribbled on a smaller piece of paper, was a list of the lesser nobles of Endallen. Next to each name were a few figures, and it didn’t take Lord Dalby long to realise what they meant.
“Soldiers!” he mumbled to himself.
What had probably started out as a neat and tidy document had evidently turned into a very messy one as he spotted several scribbled notes next to a couple of the names. Adding to that were several ink blots, and next to one name, evidence of anger. Holding the paper up to the light, Lord Dalby could see where the nib of the pen had been forced so hard it had gone right through, suggesting that Lord Elthan had not been happy about something. As to what that was soon came to light, as he read the scribbled note next to the man’s name.
“Barely a fraction of the men I demanded. Remove and replace when over!” Lord Dalby said, reading the words out loud.
Leaning back slightly in his seat, Lord Dalby smiled as he realised the significance of those words and the figures on the paper. Perhaps everything was not as rosy in Endallen as Lord Elthan would have liked. Here on this page was some evidence to support that his minor nobles were not backing him as much as they could. Perhaps they knew, as most did, that attempting to make a stand against the entire combined forces of Arandor was foolish; something Lord Elthan seemed unable to grasp. From the list of names, it would seem that at least some of the nobles had sent no more than token forces to assist in the fighting. This theory was given more substance when Lord Dalby spotted another scribbled note near the bottom of the page. Unable to tell exactly which name it was referring too, due to the paper being ripped and the ink blotting, it seemed one of the nobles had ‘Sent nothing more than farm boys and old men in uniforms!’
With the information collected by Dillon, Lord Dalby was better able to calculate the number of troops Lord Elthan might have held back to protect his capital. It seemed that most of his own guards and soldiers were out patrolling the walls and streets of Bargsea, while most of the men sent to assist from the lesser nobles were the ones expected to hold the line and bar Lord Romley’s forces. Unsure as to exactly how the other two forces were doing, Lord Dalby knew he had a decision to make, and one which would have to be done so sooner rather than later. While, at least for now, he held the inner keep, it surely would only be a matter of time before someone outside of the inner sanctum sussed that something was wrong. With the gates and portcullis closed, it might appear to some that Lord Elthan was just locking himself away for his own protection, but sooner or later the soldiers and officers outside in Bargsea would be expecting further orders and updates as to what they were expected to do.
As to whether Lord Dalby would stand and hold the inner part of Bargsea or merely slip quietly away back through the tunnel, would ultimately be decided by others. If by chance, Lord Romley had managed a breakthrough and could manoeuvre the main attacking force towards Bargsea within the next day or so, Lord Dalby would hold what he had taken. However, if there were no sign of his ally, then slipping away with his prisoner would have to be the way to go. For now, all he could do was gather information and wait. With that thought in mind, Lord Dalby finally called it a night and decided to retire to his bed. Pausing slightly, before extinguishing the lamp, he slipped beneath the sheets of his bed and rested his head on the feathered pillow.
Chapter 15.Beginning of the end.
Despite everything that had gone on the previous day, Lord Romley thought it somewhat surreal that everything around him seemed so peaceful. The waters of the river flowed silently along behind him, and the birds flitted down from the branches of the trees hoping to catch their early morning breakfast. Although a little chilly it was not yet cold enough for a frost, yet there was a morning dew that left a glistening blanket of water droplets across the fields on the far bank. As he exhaled, he noticed his breath misting slightly before his eyes as the warm air from within merged with the cold.
“We’re ready to go, My Lord.”
Lord Romley turned his gaze away from the river towards the man now standing before him.
“Then let’s get moving,” he said in reply, lifting his arm just slightly to suggest as much. Spread out over a wide area, Lord Romley could see much of his large force from his current position, all of whom would be edging towards Bargsea. One of his men handed him the reins to his horse, and with the skill of an expert rider, he placed his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself up onto the saddle. All in a swift moment that showed it was something he had done countless times before.
Moving slowly up the lines of troops towards the front, Lord Romely acknowledged the greetings from the other nobles riding with him as he passed them by. Using his cavalry to cover his flanks, he hoped by using the main track it might enable them to get to where he needed to be in a much shorter time. Having the men march a little quicker helped, but inevitably the entire force was only as quick as the slowest unit.
Having sent scouts out in all directions, even behind the main force, he slowly moved along near the front of the long lines awaiting the latest updates. The first rider returned barely an hour or so after leaving, and although it was something he needed to know, the news was nothing for him to worry about. Apparently, a small force of Endallen troops had taken up camp just a little to their south. Numbering about fifty, from their descriptions it would seem they were part of Lord Elthan’s now fragmented force that had fled from the battle the previous day. While it may have been prudent to dispatch a force to deal with them, Lord Romley was certain they were no great threat. They had already run from battle once, and would only likely do so again, and not wanting to play a game of cat and mouse he asked the scout to keep an eye on them, but leave them be. Bargsea had to be the priority, and dividing his own force up to chase down small pockets of resistance was not important so long as they posed no threat.
With the sun rising slowly into what was a clear blue sky the temperature rose only a little, still leaving the air feeling cold. Passing by smaller villages, their presence seemed to have the effect of causing alarm, which considering the size of their force was hardly surprising. However, Lord Romley sent riders to each settlement they passed to explain who they were and why they were there. While he suspected few had any real idea of what had transpired these past few months, he hoped it at least reassured the locals they were not in any imminent danger so long as they caused no trouble.
Stopping only once to allow the men and horses to rest, Lord Romley was pleased with the progress being made. As the sun rose to its peak, it was evidently still relatively low in the sky, indicating the changing of the season was upon them. Although it was a virtually cloudless and blue sky, it seemed the sun gave off little warmth, made worse by the chilly breeze that blew directly in their faces as they rode. However, not to be perturbed by such things, Lord Romley pushed his men onwards towards their target.
Just a little after mid-day the force was called to a halt as another of his scouting groups returned in somewhat of a hurry. After allowing the riders a moment to gather their thoughts, Lord Romley listened carefully about what they had discovered. Just a few miles further ahead, near a town called Ockleton a small force awaited them. At first, Lord Romley couldn’t comprehend why such a small number would attempt to stand against them. Although all on horseback, this small army consisted of barely fifty men, which he knew would barely make a dent in his own force should they attack.
“Sorry, My Lord. I didn’t make myself clear,” the scout said realising the message had not been understood correctly.
“They don’t wish to oppose you. They wish to join you!”
Lord Romley thought he had managed to keep the shock from showing on his face, although that was exactly what he was feeling.
“One of the minor nobles of eastern Endallen. Go
es by the name of Lord Topley.”
“Now this is interesting,” Lord Romley replied as a smile slowly formed upon his face. “Very well, we best not keep him waiting. Ride back and inform this Lord Topley that I am willing to talk.”
Lord Romley watched as his small group of scouts turned their horses about and rode off ahead of the main force. Not wanting to delay things any longer than was necessary he waved his arm up in the air and motioned for those behind to move out once more. With his mind trying to contemplate the significance of what was about to happen, Lord Romley allowed his horse to dictate the pace at which they travelled. Having already received news that one of the minor nobles from the south had been coerced into siding with the King’s forces, having another voluntarily change sides suggested this entire war may be very short lived. Surely as word spread that Lord Elthan was likely to be defeated, Lord Romley assumed it was only natural that those who ordinarily served him would seek their own self-preservation. Showing support to the king now would certainly do their claim no harm in keeping the lands they already owned. These nobles were only too aware that if Lord Elthan lost, which was all but a given thing, those supporting him would also likely lose everything.
Ockleton was quite a large town although evidently lacking any form of protection. Undoubtedly built in more recent years, the need for a protective outer wall had probably been deemed unnecessary. Hence, the homes, which were spread out over a wide area were left somewhat vulnerable. Positioned on the outskirts were a group of riders flying the banners of the nobleman in question. While Lord Romley was not familiar with the black and red diagonal striped flags, he assumed them to be the colours of Lord Topley, the man he had been told was waiting to join him.
The Battle for Endallen Page 14
