‘Good idea,’ the Arch-Druid encouraged, happy that Hywel appeared to be committed.
‘And then where?’ Hywel turned to Wulf, ‘where do we go after that? Are we going down the valley, or across? The people in the village will need to know so we can plan ahead.
‘Yes,’ said Wulf with a false laugh and a sidewise glance at the Arch-Druid. He swallowed hard, ‘about the village…,’
He was stopped from going further by the reappearance of Lypolix. The old seer seemed to drift out of the drizzle and he approached the stone with quiet reverence. Which Wulf actually found a bit off putting.
‘Ah,’ Lypolix breathed, without even a hint of a cackle. ‘The great stone, the master. Yes, yes, I see it.’
‘Me too,’ Hywel muttered under his breath.
The old seer tapped and stroked the stone. Wulf wondered if he was going to wee on this as well, like some dog leaving a message. ‘It is the one. It has the power. I feel its emanations and the smiles of the God falling upon it from the spirit world.’
They all looked a bit askance at Lypolix.
‘Also,’ the seer went on, ‘it looks very heavy.’
‘You don’t need to tell me,’ Hywel commented.
Lypolix nodded in satisfaction at the stone. ‘It should kill the monk quite quickly.’
Wulf’s looked as put out at this as the Arch Druid had at mention of the gold. He was starting to get the idea of that some things should not be said to some people.
‘What monk?’ Hywel asked in all seriousness.
‘The monk we’ll sacrifice for the master stone,’ Lypolix explained brightly, ‘he should die quite quickly when we drop it on him.’
Caput IX
The Fellowship Expands; Unfortunately.
‘You worry too much, Hermitage,’ Cwen stated the blindingly obvious. She patted the monk heartily on the shoulder when he shared his concerns that travelling as a large group would attract the attention of even larger groups who would think they had something to steal.
They had left the river at the point they needed to turn more northwards and formed a ragged band, rather light on enthusiasm.
The option of travelling alone was worse of course, and Hermitage couldn’t immediately come up with the perfect number of travelling companions, when Cwen asked.
If there was a single reason why young Hermitage worried as much as he did, about everyone, everything and every situation which brought the two together, it was that he was usually right.
Through the short years of his life, it would have been easy to wean himself from worry if things had not turned out so bad after all. If his fervent anticipation of being chased, attacked, robbed or caught up in some hideous situation involving all three, had been wrong, and nothing of the sort had come to pass, he would have become a different person all together.
But they hadn’t. They always turned out just as bad as he’d expected. Except, of course, for those frequent occasions when they turned out worse.
He was an intelligent young man of course. He was able to think his way through this philosophy and consider that perhaps it was his worrying which brought things to pass. If he constantly thought about being chased, attacked or robbed, didn’t that make it more likely to happen? Wasn’t he going to present himself as a target, exuding humors which signalled to all about that here was a man ready for chasing, robbery or attack?
But that didn’t explain all the awful things that happened, which he hadn’t managed to worry about at all. He could still be completely surprised by some act of ill-will or wrong-doing, which proved he wasn’t the cause.
He was very satisfied with this reasoning, although not with the conclusion.
As he considered this latest topic for concern, he recalled that even his first meeting with Wat had come about as a result of his not anticipating being attacked at all.[ Which is told in The Heretics of De’Ath from the Funny Book Company – the set book if you are considering course H424; Brother Hermitage, a Contextual Analysis.]
Cwen scoffed at his predictions of woe, although they were delivered with such certainty that seeds of doubt were sown in her mind. Hermitage had plenty to go round.
And of course at the conclusion of it all was Wales. The place where he would meet his end. If there was anything that deserved a good worry, that was it.
…
Up ahead, a group who knew nothing of Hermitage’s reasoning, or of reasoning at all, but an awful lot about chasing, attacking and robbing, were preparing for another day’s work.
To say that not everyone in England was overjoyed at the Norman invasion was taking the obvious to the top of a very high tower and hoisting it up a flag pole.
In many instances, this lack of joy was outwardly expressed – usually when there weren’t any Normans about. In fact, the further away the Normans were, the more outward the expression. Thus, in the further reaches of the land, resistance to the new rulers took a very ordered form.
To the east, Hereward the Wake bravely fought the invaders from the flat lands of the fens – the bravery coming to the fore when Hereward the Wake was spotted hiding in a ditch.
To the west Edric the Wild was busy getting resistance organised against Norman nobles who’d been in the country for years. William’s attack at Hastings was a marvellous excuse to get the swords out.
Elsewhere, men who had spent the time prior to the invasion chasing, attacking or robbing anyone they came across, declared themselves freedom fighters, and continued to behave in exactly the same way.
When their victims suggested that surely they should limit their chasing, attacking or robbing to Normans now, the men would come up with sophisticated arguments that the Normans were miles away, and they had to make a living.
To the group ahead of Hermitage and his companions, sophistication meant putting your leggings on the right way round before you went chasing, attacking and robbing. Or putting them on at all.
There was only one man in this assembly who had ideals which transcended the revoltingly mundane, and he was their leader. It might be assumed that if the leader was motivated by more than plain greed, then the group would follow suit. This leader was also an intelligent man, and was well aware of what happened to the previous leader, when he had suggested that some of the booty be given to the poor.
The old leader had delivered a sincere and impassioned speech about all the good they could do, which had carried on all the way to the river, where his band held his head underwater until he stopped talking.
Thus, the new leader realised that transforming this band into anything other than a despicable rabble of reprehensible animals would be a slow process.
The sight of a ragged band travelling the road without an apparent care in the world, was the trigger for the group to start doling out the sort of cares-of-the-world they did best.
…
The party negotiated a rare bend in the road, caused by the fact that a tree had grown in the old roadway, and rather than chop it down, or even weed it out when it was small, people had simply walked round, creating a new path. Emerging from the shadow of the tree, they saw a gang of six men, three of them armed.
The leader of the gang looked them over disparagingly. A scrawny beard on legs, one monk, a rather small girl, a man dressed like a travelling cloth merchant, one skinny type who did look like he could handle himself and a druid. A druid? They would be more than a match for this lot.
‘Alright you lot, over here,’ the leader called and beckoned with his sword.
Wat led the way, ambling along as if they were going this way anyway, and were certainly not responding to any summonses.
As they got near, John pointedly drew his sword, which was much bigger and in much better condition than the leader of the group’s. He then took a sharp and shining dagger from his belt, which he gripped between his teeth. Finally he drew what was basically a long metal spike from the side of his leggings and spun it in his left hand. One more weapon and he’d out-match the entire band
of attackers.
Cwen managed to look daggers, so that probably counted.
The druid stood at the back, trying to look aloof, while Hermitage stayed at Wat’s side.
The gang of robbers appraised the situation and adopted the appropriate position. Behind their leader.
‘Now then,’ the leader called out for all to hear, ‘no need for any trouble here. Just hand over your valuables and you can be on your way.’
‘No,’ said Wat, ‘you hand over your valuables.’
‘What?’ the leader was clearly thrown by this response.
‘That’s right, Wat confirmed, winking at Hermitage. ‘Hand it all over and you can be on your way.’
‘We’re not on our way anywhere,’ the leader protested. ‘It’s you who’s on your way.’
‘How do you know?’ Wat demanded.
The leader looked to his band, as if one of them would explain what was going on. ‘Because we’re here and you just arrived.’
‘Only from where you’re standing.’
The leader’s face said he was trying to make sense of this, and was failing.
‘We’re freedom fighters,’ he tried another tack.
‘Well, that’s nice. We’re just robbers.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘Yes we are.’
‘You aren’t.’ The leader wasn’t taking that. ‘You’re a monk, a girl and a druid.’ He pointed out the offending characters.
‘That’s only because we just robbed a monk, a girl and a druid.’
The leader paused to think about this, staring hard at Cwen to see whether she was real or not.
‘Oh for goodness sake,’ Wat’s humour had run out, ‘John, make yourself useful. See them off.’
John smiled a smile as thin as his knife, and advanced on the leader, crouching in a very effective-looking fighting stance.
This man, who was taller and bulkier than John, and so ought to have the advantage, held his weapon out in front of him, although he looked like he wanted to hand the thing over.
‘What’s that?’ John asked through the dagger in his teeth, when he got within striking distance.
‘My sword,’ the leader replied with an attempt at a growl.
‘That’s not a sword,’ John stood up straight and neatly spat the knife from his mouth, catching it in a hand that already held a sword. The robbers breathed an impressed sigh.
‘Will you people stop it,’ the leader demanded, his patience having run off with Wat’s humour. ‘We are a band of freedom fighters, and this is my sword. Now can we get on with it, please?’
‘Still not a sword,’ John huffed. ‘Looks like a bit of shield edging. Hammered out straight and sharpened a bit.’ He actually leant forward and ran his hand down the weapon. ‘But only a bit. That thing’s useless. Do you want to go and get something better?’
‘I haven’t got anything better,’ the leader snapped, ‘where do you think you are? The King’s armoury?’
‘The King wouldn’t use that to prop the doors open on his armoury,’ John scoffed. ‘I can lend you one if you like. I’ll get it back later.’
The leader, who had been out of his depth since the encounter started, was wading ever deeper. He looked at John with his collection of well maintained, and probably professionally made weapons, and then he looked to his band. This group had taken several steps backwards as the engagement continued, and were now well placed to run away if any actual fighting started. Finally he looked at his sword, which he thought he had hammered pretty well – once he’d prised it off the old shield.
He drew himself up to his full height. ‘You may pass,’ he announced.
‘We know,’ said Wat as he strolled by, pushing More ahead of him.
Hermitage scampered after him, ‘Wat,’ he called, ‘we can’t leave these people here to rob unwary travellers. The next people who happen along may not be able to defend themselves.’
‘Good thought Hermitage,’ Wat nodded, ‘you think we should let John kill them then?’
‘What? Good heavens no.’ Hermitage hadn’t meant that at all. How could Wat even think he would contemplate such an evil deed? He looked to his friend and saw the grin.
‘Take their weapons?’ Wat suggested.
‘Ah, yes, that would be good.’
John had passed the leader of the band now, the band itself having lined up on the opposite side of the road, making sure they didn’t get in the way.
Cwen passed by, snarling at the leader and the band, while the druid maintained an admirable level of aloofness.
When the last of them had gone by, the leader hurried over to his band and drew them into a huddle of conversation. The other two who had weapons, were holding them out of sight, probably for fear of John criticising their equipment.
The leader gestured to where the travellers were moving down the road, and was making pleading gestures to his men. There was some shaking of heads and some shrugs, as if the band could not come to an agreed strategy.
Eventually the leader broke out of the pack and walked after the departing backs. He gestured again, this time for the band to follow him, which they did, reluctantly and at a distance.
‘Erm, excuse me?’ the leader called after Wat, ‘I say!’
Hermitage looked round and saw their followers. ‘Why are they following us?’ he asked Wat. Surely they weren’t thinking of attacking from behind. Their attack from the front had been so useless Hermitage didn’t think the element of surprise would help this lot at all. Anyway, it’s not much of a surprise attack if you shout out “excuse me” first.
‘Because you’re right. Everyone we come across has some overpowering urge to tag along. I reckon if we step on a dead badger it’ll come back to life with a burning desire to visit Wales. Yes. What is it?’ he called back to the leader of the pack.
‘Erm,’ the leader hesitated, ‘did I hear the monk call you Wat by any chance?’
‘Yes,’ Wat said with profound resignation.
‘With the look of a weaver about you sir, I don’t suppose by any chance you’d be the Wat the weaver?’
‘Only one I know.’
‘Oh sir,’ the leader of the band of dangerous freedom fighters dropped his weapon on the floor and rushed forward to grasp Wat’s hand and shake it vigorously. ‘It’s an honour sire, a real honour. We’re real enthusiasts for your work, me and the lads.’ He gestured back to the rest of the band of dangerous freedom fighters, who were waving at Wat.
‘I see,’ said Wat with some embarrassment, and a sideways glance at Hermitage. Hermitage was now applying his very best disappointed look.
‘The bath house series sir, an absolute marvel.’
Hermitage added a grumble to his scowl.
‘Aha, yes.’ Wat clearly wanted to move on.
‘Of course we wouldn’t have interrupted your journey if we’d known.’ The leader was fawningly obsequious. ‘We’d be only too glad to help you on your way. Wouldn’t we lads?’ He called to the gang who confirmed their agreement with a collection of positive, if rather suggestive noises.
‘Well, that’s very kind, but I think we’re alright now.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t hear of it sir. Not after our rudeness earlier on. Where is it you’d be going?’
‘This way,’ Wat gestured. He urged the rest of the party to move on.
‘Then we shall accompany you,’ the leader announced.
‘Oh God,’ Wat muttered, running and hand over his face.
‘We shall protect you from the vagabonds who live in these parts.’
‘Of course you will,’ John snorted.
Hermitage laid a hand on Wat’s elbow, ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ he asked. While these men may be rather inept vagabonds, Hermitage would rather they stayed where they were.
‘Sure about it?’ Wat asked with some disbelief, ‘of course I’m sure about it. And it’s not my idea. I don’t want them to come. That’ll be a dozen of us. So much for a quick wander
into Wales, look around and then straight out again. At this rate the druids will think we’re an invasion force.’
‘Can’t we tell them not to come then?’ Hermitage asked. Surely that was what you did. You asked someone to do, or not do something, and they did it. Or didn’t.
‘Of course we can,’ Wat said brightly, although Hermitage detected that underlying hint of “Hermitage doesn’t know what he’s talking about again.”
‘Gentlemen,’ Wat called to the ragged band who were now gathered close by.
They gave Wat their attention.
‘On further discussion we have decided that we do not want you to accompany us.’
Well, thought Hermitage, that was very clear indeed. A bit rude perhaps, but it got the point across.
‘But we shall do so in your service,’ the leader smiled, obviously turning down Wat’s polite suggestion that they might have better things to do with their time.
‘No. Really.’ Wat looked the leader in the eye. ‘Do not come with us.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ the leader was still smiling.
‘It is to us,’ Wat insisted.
‘It’s our pleasure,’ the leader said, clearly very full of pleasure.
‘I insist.’
‘No, I insist.’
‘What’s your name?’ Wat asked the leader.
‘Banley,’ the leader announced with some pride.
‘Look, Banley,’ Wat gently ushered the man to one side to have a quiet and confidential discussion. He beckoned Hermitage to join them and the young monk was fascinated to hear what the weaver was going to say.
‘I cannot tell you why we are travelling, or what it is we’re going to do. What I can say is that your presence will be an obstruction. It will get in our way. It will actually prevent us achieving our aim. Not only do we not want you to come with us, you actually need not to.’
‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Banley with a smile.
Hermitage couldn’t follow this. Surely it had been made comprehensively clear what Banley needed to do.
‘I really mean it,’ said Wat, in all seriousness. ‘Please. Do not come with us.’
Hermitage, Wat and Some Druids Page 8
