CHAPTER FIFTEEN: NEW FRIENDS.
'I don't give a rat's arse how the thing was built – I want to know how on Ella-Earth Chief Luthan raised a dam without anyone noticing!'
Lord Massant's voice boomed through the courtyard. Flanked by two horsemen, he had clattered into the village five minutes ago. After dismounting and stooping to greet his cousin, he had marched into the Main Hall, closely followed by Chief Wulfstan, Blain and Romulus. The doors had slammed shut behind them. Lady Lydia gave a noticeable shudder before disappearing into the village's bake hut with her women in attendance.
The two younger horsemen exchanged a grimace across the back of Lord Massant's mount. They dismounted and led all three horses over to a nearby barn, where a village lad was finishing up on a fairly decent job of preening and grooming a grey griffin.
The shorter of the two chucked the horses' reins towards the lad. 'See that they're fed and watered, and run a brush over them,' he said carelessly. He turned to his companion, 'better find out if there's anything to eat in this backwards village, I cannot believe your father's cousin chose to live here.'
'I'll wager a year's pay there'll be no pretty girls to flirt with,' his friend replied.
'Then a pound's gold to whoever can kiss the ugliest,' he stopped short suddenly and frowned. The boy barred their way. The grey griffin next to him bared his teeth.
'Where I come from, riders groom their own mounts,' he said pleasantly, though his eyes glinted like sapphires. He handed over a bucket to one and a brush to the other. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to the barn. He led the grey griffin inside the cavernous building, and bedded him down in a stall next to an older griffin whose feathers gleamed a dark gold against the straw.
They were waiting for him when he emerged. Their faces were serious, but their mouths twitched. They were only two years his senior, three at the most, but they were laughing at him and Neb bristled.
The taller brown haired one with freckles over his forehead and nose spoke first: 'We beg your pardon, there was no insult intended, my name is Harry Massant, this here is Alexis Romford.' He indicated towards his friend, a youth around Neb's height, with dark blond hair cut short to show off his chiselled jaw-line. The horses' heads embroidered in red and gold on the breast of their dark green cloaks marked them out as Lord Massant's cavalry.
Several responses sprung to Neb's mind, but he gave a casual nod, 'If no insult was meant, then no offence was taken.'
The two horsemen grinned at each other, then Neb.
'You're with Romulus aren't you? We're sorry we mistook you for one of these peasants.'
The insult went over Eric's head; the village lad continued to brush at a chestnut coat, while keeping a wary eye on the other two horses, especially the wicked horns protruding from their foreheads.
'You must admit though,' Alexis flicked a languid hand at Neb's borrowed clothes, 'an easy mistake to make.' His own trousers were of a light brown leather, fashionably baggy and tucked into knee high black leather boots.
Neb acknowledged this, wondering how they'd react when they discovered his true status. That was this morning, this is now. Romulus chose me as a sanctuary lad.
From inside the barn, one of the horses neighed loudly as though in agreement. All three of them looked in that direction, in time to see a wagon creak to a standstill. Immediately a group of slim men clad in a uniform of brown leather tunics and trews jumped from the wagon, quivers of arrows rattled at their backs.
'Oh no! Lord Massant's archers are here – quick – where can we get a drink, and something to eat?' Alexis clutched at Neb in mock horror.
'There's ale and fish and pottage over there – I think you can help yourself,' Neb pointed towards tables set up in the main square. The new arrivals were already arranging hay bales into makeshift benches and were passing platters and spoons to each other.
'Ugh. No proper food? No real drink?' Alexis grimaced. But he and Harry hurried over to the tables, dragging Neb with them. It seemed churlish to refuse. They were soon swapping happy insults with a dozen archers and foot soldiers and speculating on plans to smash the renegade Chief Luthan's dam.
More men arrived; more makeshift tables were set up with hay bales pressed into use as benches. Village women carrying platters streamed from the bake house. A cheer went up at the sight of whole roasted piglets and trays of baked turnips and apples and freshly made bread rolls. A louder cheer went up when they reappeared and began setting out flasks of cider on the table. The feasters cheered again when Lord Massant and his captains emerged from their counsel with Chief Wulfstan and Romulus in the Main Hall.
'We'll rise at first light and attack tomorrow. Chief Wulfstan and Captain Franks will explain further.' Lord Massant had the same engaging manner about him as his son and graciously gave the floor to Chief Wulfstan. While the Chief addressed his men at arms, Lord Massant approached Harry, Alexis, and Neb. All three stood.
'You must be Romulus' lad,' he held out his hand and clasped Neb's forearm in a strong grip. 'My cousin has told me all of your daring rescue of our beloved Luke. You have our thanks and gratitude.'
Neb nodded, aware of his new friends' curious eyes on him, too tongue tied to speak. In any case, Romulus loomed into view over Lord Massant' shoulder.
'Boy, prepare Fletcher and Balkind. I've left my new recruits on their own far too long.'
Neb hesitated, it was only a few hours to sun-down and he'd assumed that they'd begin their journey tomorrow. But then he nodded and gestured at Alexis to step aside so he could extract himself from the hay bale. Harry and Alexis have been decent, maybe now I'm a griffin's boy, Romulus' other recruits won't be quite so poisonous towards me, he told himself. But it felt harsh to leave his new friends, and he'd wanted to stay and listen to the banter between Lord Massant's and Chief Wulfstan's men. Alexis wasn't moving, so Neb elbowed Harry; it wouldn't do to keep Romulus waiting. He glanced in the Griffin Master's direction, surprised when Lord Massant winked at him.
'Stay put,' Harry whispered from the corner of his mouth.
Lord Massant turned to Romulus. 'We could do with your expertise, Griffin Master, and a show of griffins is always useful.'
'A couple of griffins flying overhead would strike fear into anyone's heart,' added Chief Wulfstan who had just joined them, with his wife and Blain in tow.
'Come on now Rommey, your deputy is perfectly capable of keeping a rabble of new recruits in hand – the boy won't see any real action – a few more hours won't hurt,' Blain argued.
For the second time that day hope fluttered in Neb's chest. Raising his chin, he looked Romulus in the eye and added his own silent plea. But it was Lady Lydia who clinched the deal.
'Griffin Master Romulus,' she began formally, 'if my brother were here, he would wish to speak with Chief Luthan. I'm certain he would want to know how a dam was constructed under the noses of the Griffin Riders' patrols.'
Neb thought only a woman could get away with such an observation, even so he inwardly applauded Lady Lydia's courage at voicing what none else dared. Lady Lydia gazed serenely at the group of men and appeared not to notice Romulus' scowl, which would have made any watching gargoyle envious. Blain broke the silence.
'Captain Thane's Eastern Patrol should have noticed and Captain Thane should have reported this outrage. There must be an explanation and you, Rommey, should be present to hear it,' he said softly.
To Neb's relief, Romulus nodded and grunted, 'You're right, I want words with both Chief Luthan and Captain Thane.'
Blain clapped the Griffin Master on the back and winked at the three youths. 'Didn't need too much persuading!' he chuckled.
A good natured groan came from the other end of the table and an archer jeered:
'Just what we need, a couple of fly boys!'
'Hey – don't knock it!' Harry said, sinking onto the hay bale again, as Lord Massant, Blain and Romulus moved away. Stifling a yawn, Alexis also sat down.
'All this excitement is wearying,' he tugged at Neb's tunic. 'Sit down and swipe the smile off your face, unless you're planning to apply for a job as the village idiot.'
Neb thought he would remember this day forever. Romulus had chosen him as a sanctuary lad and he was to see his first battle tomorrow! He glanced at Harry, even the freckles on his open honest face appeared to glow with happiness. Neb turned his gaze to Alexis, who gazed back at him, with the beginnings of a smug smile tugging at his lips. He seemed about to speak, but just then his head jerked around at a sudden commotion. Neb also looked in that direction and saw a troop of spearmen marching through the village's Eastern gate. Alexis casual attitude vanished; with a brief grimace he rose from his seat and marched over to greet the newcomers.
'You'll have to excuse Alexis, my father's agreed to let him command the spears for the first time,' Harry explained his friend's abrupt departure. As Lord Massant's son, Harry would be responsible for carrying his father's war banner, and would probably ride at his father's side.
It was apparent even to Neb that many of the spearmen were new recruits too. Obviously Lord Massant expected an easy victory tomorrow. In addition to giving his son's friend a first taste of command, he intended to allow his newest spearmen to benefit from any battle spoils. Most of the spearmen wore only basic leather breastplates, although scattered amongst the troop, a handful of older and doubtless more seasoned warriors wore chain mail armour.
Across the table from Neb, archers and villagers continued to banter, drowning out Alexis' speech. But judging by the cheer that followed, his words pleased his new command. Harry grinned at Neb, 'They've been promised equal shares in any booty – my father's orders – it's why they joined up of course –' Harry gulped down the last dregs of his tankard. 'I'd better go and help see that the troops are fed and watered,' he grumbled good naturedly. Neb wondered if he should tag along, but although the village now held the population of a town, it seemed everyone had a purpose and he would only get in the way. Instead he watched in a happy daze as women with children scampering at their feet bustled to and fro, all carrying platters or tankards. Wistful faced village elders gave last instructions to their sons, while over by the Main Hall, a lone piper began warming up his bagpipes. A knee nudged at Neb's ribs. He looked up to see Harry climbing back into his seat. On his other side, Alexis had also returned and now stretched across the table to refill his platter. 'Eat up now, but you'd better drink only water,' he advised Neb, as though he was some seasoned campaigner. 'Tomorrow will be even more chaotic.'
Neb flushed, still unable to believe he was on the eve of his first battle. 'I can't believe I'm here, and I can't thank you enough,' he blurted.
Alexis shrugged, and poured some water for himself. 'You could always get up extra early tomorrow and groom our horses,' he teased. Neb scowled, and then joined in the laughter of his new friends.
Happiness engulfed him from head to toe and he watched with only mild interest as a fair haired girl tumbled into the village's main square. The bustle of villagers and newcomers continued; the child had obviously sneaked some ale, she would have a sore head tomorrow and probably a scolding from one of her parents.
Where is her blasted mother, for heavens' sake? Neb thought. He glanced around, impatient for this blight on his evening to be removed, and saw Lady Lydia hurrying towards the child. Chief Wulfstan stood in slow motion and everything seemed to grind to a halt. Then time restarted, blood thundered in Neb's ears and he finally recognised the girl.
'Lillian!' he shouted and shoving Alexis aside, clambered over the hay bale and hurried to help. Chief Wulfstan got there first and scooped his daughter into his arms. Lillian's blonde curls were clumped with mud and vivid red marks glowed on her face and hands. Her blue cloak resembled a rag, and her eyes were already rolling up in her head, but she managed to say: 'Samara … they've got Samara …' Then her eyes closed and her body went limp in her father's arms.
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