The prisoner reaches up with his bound hands to rub his sore head, trying to stretch his cramped limbs as he does so. He yawns, but his eyes grow a little wider when he sees the sickle.
"Dyna Hedrok's! Ydy ef wedi marw? Dyn peryglus. Roedd wedi torri rhai bechgyn yn ddrwg iawn gyda'r pethau hynny. Yr eraill yw Casworon, Jowan a Massen. Casworon yw'r dyn mawr gyda'r gwallt du du. Massen yw'r pen coch."
"Aye ... Mae wedi marw yn iawn ... welp, yn ôl i gysgu gyda chi ... Diolch am y wybodaeth."
Felix picks up the sickle and heads back to his group to bring them the news. On the way Felix takes out the daggers he got from Hedrok and compares them with his own...
Are these fancier than mine? Maybe I should consider upgrading...
Hedrok's daggers have wooden hilts and pommels that look hand carved, the grips are bound in leather strips. The steel of the blades themselves is dull, but seems serviceable.
Magan pulls himself awake hearing the hushed voices outside, firstly he checks the girl is safe and asleep before poking his head out of the tent and trying to peer through the darkness,an axe clutched in his hand.He spots Felix emerging through the darkness and his posture relaxes. He steps fully out of the tent.
"Felix, was your mission a success?"
Upon hearing talking Gawen half wakes up, but voices don't sound particularly concerned and Gawen's eyelids are heavy, so he rolls over and drifts back into his slumber.
Pen also stirs from his position by Isolde, his ears pricking up at the sound of Felix's voice. He wanders over to Felix and sniffs at him eagerly, apparently keen to see whether he was able to liberate any more of the bandits' food.
Hearing Magan's voice, Felix turns and waves at him.
"Aye Magan, I have returned victorious. Their tent are burnt and one of Arthek's group decided to take a nap, forever."
Felix tosses the leather bag down on the ground along with the sickle and throws Magan the chain shirt.
"Here, try this on for size..."
After a brief pause, he continues
"There were five of them, I didn't know who Arthek was at the time so I took a guess and put one down then burned all five of their tents. I spoke with our prisoner once I got back, the man I killed is called Hedrok. He's one of Arthek's companions, a nasty fellow, so I guess there's no downside to it. However... for future references... let's maybe ask about our target's appearance first before hitting them."
Seeing Pen rushing up to him, Felix bends down and scratches the back of its ear.
"Sorry buddy, I got nothing for you right now, maybe tomorrow..."
Standing back up, Felix turns to face Magan once more
"I am gonna grab some rest, but you should keep an eye out. I don't think they saw me this entire time, but I also don't believe they will just let this one slide either. We will have a chat in the morning, night."
Magan nods, takes a look at the chain shirt, shrugs, and puts it in Erroll's bag.
maybe we are even now. Is the fight worth it?
He goes to sit with whoever is on watch, worried that the reaction from the camp may be swifter than expected. Certainly they should leave at sunrise when the tracks would become visible.
Looks at Magan as he approaches, and raises her eyebrows. It was odd to see him up at this hour, and she would comment on it " You should be asleep old man."
Magan's eyes widen and he looks at Kara in mock offense. Before breaking into laughter and elbowing her in the ribs.
"If I were so old you'd show me more respect."
Though me looking old can only be a good thing where we must pass.
"I hope our business in these parts is done for now Kara, and we can return to seek vengeance for the girl when she is older and able to exact it herself. We are heading towards more danger though and I hesitate over leaving more of it at our backs. Perhaps the battle fought now is the wiser course?"
He doesn't wait for an answer before continuing.
"Then there is our employer, his motives are less than honest, and I have little enough to care about it, yet I worry as his goals draw close what his plans for us will entail, and whether we have played our part for him when this is done. Does he have reason for placing an assassin in our midst?"
He laughs again, though the events he mentioned are of concern, it seems to weigh very little on him.
"I just prefer to have a battle to fight, and an enemy at my front, and friends at my side and back. You, Prasutagus and I must keep close now we are all that remain of the old band."
He sits a few minutes longer to talk, before beginning to dismantle the non-essential parts of the camp, ready to leave at first light.
Davidstow - 16th of September, 598 AD
The first cracks of light start to break over the horizon at around five am, and by seven the sun is well and truly up, the camp has been dismantled, and the carriage is ready to head east towards Caerwysg. Breakfast was a simple matter of cold stew, dried beef and basic trail rations, but it's enough to ride on. There's still two day's ride ahead to the south coast, one of them across the great open spaces of the Dartmoor, but before the carriage can leave there is still the matter of the prisoners to be dealt with...
The night's rest seems to have been exactly what Kara needed and when she comes to inspect her wound in the morning, but for a little stiffness, it seems almost entirely healed thanks to the help of Gawen's poultice. All that remains is a fat white scar.
Kara pokes the wound a bit, quiet happy it has healed nicely. As they started to break camp, and get going, she makes a mention to Magan, loud enough for the prisoners to hear, " Now that the business with that man is done, we are set off for some place north correct? What was the name of the place? Londoum? I think Felix mentioned something about a wall also." She would then after receiving the answer would take Isolde and make sure her hair and dress is proper for the supposed long ride.
Magan looks up from where he his strategically about to cut the prisoner's bonds to answer Kara.
"Londoum eventually, yes. But first we must rendevous with the rest at camelford, then stop off in Dorchester to deliver the message."
He turns to the prisoners. Speaking clearly and firmly so that his sincerity could not be doubted.
"mae hi'n siaced neis nad yw cot yn ei wneud. Nid oes gennym unrhyw werin gyda chi yn werin iawn, dim ond ei alw'n holl daclus eh. Fe wnes i hyn i Arthek esgyrn, dywedwch wrth y rheolwr y mae hyn yn ein troi ni'n ôl ar gyfer y bwthyn. Sgwâr popeth nawr fi fi"
"Now, listen carefully. I don't wish harm on any of you, but I need you to take a message back for me. We did this because of Arthek, and in revenge for what he did to the farmhouse. I recommend your boss deals with him before he brings any further retribution on you all, but that is his business. I would like you to tell him that I consider the score even, if he doesn't pursue us, this can be the end of our feud."
He cuts the bonds, helps the men to their feet and offers a handshake to the man he had questioned previously before mounting Ealing and leading the way off into the rising sun.
The men depart relatively amiably, given that they have been held prisoner. Especially the two more severely wounded men seem simply surprised and grateful to be escaping the situation alive. They limp off back west towards the quarry.
Branok sets the carriage rolling, leaving the farmer standing outside his house, watching the group carefully from under the brim of his hat. Once it becomes clear that they really are leaving he turns back towards his fields.
The morning passes without major incidence. The carriage rolls through a couple of minor villages and past the odd farm here and there. By midday they arrive in the slightly larger settlement of Lannstevan.
A hill fort can be seen a distance away rising over the village.
Gawen looks appreciatively at the settlement, and gives Pen's ear a scritch as the dog wanders up to him.
"I don't know about you lot," he says, "but I wouldn't mind finding somewhere that offers a drink and some food before we carry on our way."
Magan looks a little apprehensive, glancing over his shoulder back down the road.
"They are likely following us by now. We would be best not to wait so long. I would suggest we sell extra gear, see if we can get some horses in trade, perhaps some food, and head straight on through."
Stretching, preparing his gear and Aurelius, Prasutagus watches as Magan releases the prisoners. About time his bloodlust died down...
***
Seeing the look on Gawen's face as Lannstevan comes into view, Prasutagus says to him, "Mae bwyd, cywilydd a merched da ar gyfer pryd mae'r swydd yn gyflawn."
"Magan, fe ddylem ni fwrw ymlaen. Ni fyddwn yn mynd yn gyflymach â cheffylau i bawb ar hyn o bryd oherwydd fi a gallwn ni gludo'r holl offer ychwanegol yn rhwydd."
We have tarried long enough, let us hurry to our destination and put miles between us and the bandits in the quarry...
Gawen sighs.
"Ah, rydych chi'n iawn wrth gwrs. Fe wnaf i weld a allaf gyflenwi bwyd ar y ffordd yna, a gallwn fod ar ein ffordd."
As they carry on into the town, Gawen keeps an eye out for a general store that might sell trail rations or the like.
The convoy draws a lot of looks as it rolls onwards through the streets. A carriage accompanied by horseman is an unusual sight for most and usually accompanies the arrival of nobility. The main road through the heart of the village branches off from the dusty track that the carriage has been following cross-country and branches up north towards the hill fort. Along it many basic amenities can be seen, including market stalls selling food, a tavern and the loud clanging of a smith at work can be heard further up towards the fort.
If any of Kenver's men ask, they'll find no shortage of people to tell 'em we went through here, and in which direction we were heading... thinks Gawen uneasily to himself, and makes a mental note to ask Magan about it shortly.
Not much to be done about it for the moment though.
Temporarily shaking off his concerns, Gawen approaches a stall that appears to be selling basic foodstuffs and enquires about their prices.
Gawen is greeted by a tall, yet overweight man with short, dull-blonde hair that is greying around the edges. His big brown eyes light up as Gawen approaches and he cracks a broad grin full of crooked teeth.
"Croeso! Croeso!" he cries, throwing his arms wide as he speaks with a heavy Kentish accent.
"Teithwyr, ie? Dewch i brynu! Rydych chi'n hoffi caws? Mae gennym y caws gorau! Rydych chi'n hoffi gafr? Mae gennym lawer o geifr da!"
Shakes her head at the sight before her. All these people and none of them running or screaming, maybe they already knew of the glory of Freya. She does try to understand the locals, but after a few words, she is still lost on what was happening. Gawen seemed to be accosted by some overweight man, and the rest seemed to be talking about the fort on the hill. She mutters under her breath, " Freya, thank you for sending another female with me. I'd bet a shield the men are talking about women."
"Rwy'n hoffi brassica braf!" exclaims Gawen.
"Faint ar gyfer ychydig o lysiau a rhol o gaws?"
Magan nods at Prasutagus.
"Rydych chi'n iawn ar hyn o bryd, ond bydd Branok yn mynd gyda ni am gyfnod hir. Po hiraf y mae gennym geffylau, y mwyaf cyfarwydd y byddant, bydd angen inni eu cael yn fuan. Tyr cennym wyfedd, bryd hyn araff,cenwyn maer venyrr. "
You are right for now, but Branok will only accompany us for so long. The longer we have the horses, the more familiar they will be, we need to get them soon. I won't hold us up, but if the opportunity presents, I will try to pick one up. "
Magan has been furiously scrubbing at the chain shirt Felix gave him,trying his best to make it look presentable. While Gawen barters over food, he rides a little further down the street, looking for someone with some horses.
"Dewis da iawn! A yw caws da! Dim ond dau arian bunt, fy ffrind! Trowch a nionyn hefyd am ddarn arian!" Exclaims the man friendlily.
Magan on the other hand, doesn't see any kind of obvious trader in animals here in the heart of the village. He'll have to look further afield to find an opportunity here in Lannstevan.
Magan thinks for a moment, he had been here several times before after all.
I must know someone who sells horses here.
Magan recalls a farrier by the name of Jameson who works up at the fort. He may be able to arrange for the sale of a horse or two.
Gawen, aware of his limited remaining gold, but also partial to a bit of cheese, buys 1lb of it and a couple of turnips, before moving on to try and find someone selling bread.
A nearby baker is also selling his produce nearby, at one silver per pound of bread in this case. He is a skinny, swarthy looking man with a curled moustache and a tall white hat. His tunic is covered in flour and he fidgets habitually with his fingers.
Magan is divided, the need to rush on is at the front of his mind, however he was also keen to secure the horses. As Gawen starts browsing his second stall Magan makes up his mind.
"Don't wait for me, I'll catch up."
He makes sure the chain shirt and the weapons taken from the prisoners are in his saddle bag and rides off for the fort in search of James on.
Gawen buys a loaf and returns to the others, intending to make cheese sandwiches for everyone during the next period of sitting on the wagon.
Ealing dashes through the streets of Lannstevan, winding her way amongst the peasants as Magan urges her up towards the fort. The clanging of hammer on anvil grows ever louder as he climbs the hill, until he reaches the palisade of the fort's outer ring-wall. Two guards flank the entrance, each bearing shield and spear. Jameson's smithy should be just inside.
Magan dismounts Ealing and nods to the guards as he steps through in search of Jameson
The two spears swing outwards in a cross, barring the entrance in front of Magan.
"Nodwch eich busnes," one guard demands gruffly.
"Dywedodd na ddylid aros, gadewch inni fod i ffwrdd" Prasutagus says to the others and heads off down the road in the direction they were travelling on Aurelius.
After watching Magan go off in search of whatever, and watching Gawen look at food, and someone who seemed to friendly with goats, she would try to talk to Isolde, and take her to find a doll or other children toy. Her awkwardness would be apparent, having not grown up around other girls.
Magan smiles and holds his open hands out in a garage sure of peace.
dylidd arafu do plydd na hefyd chaudd. "
The guard eyes Magan carefully, but nods and the spears are withdrawn.
The stables are just inside the wall and stink of droppings and damp hay. From the entrance Magan can already see four horses standing in their rickety wooden stalls. From behind the building the familiar clanking of horseshoes being forged can be heard.
Magan walks around the corner, a broad smile on his face as though he had all the time in the world and no particular concerns today.
"Jameson! My old friend! How is business?"
Jameson looks up from the red-hot piece of iron he is wrangling upon his anvil, and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of a thick leather gauntlet. He has a round face, red from the heat and exertion of the forge, and topped by a short cut mess of tight ginger locks. His build is that of a man used to working metal and horses.
"Magan?" he asks with surprise, peering through the smokey air as he rids himself of the gloves and steps out of the smithy.
"What are you doing here you old dog?"
He claps his forearm against Magan's, grasping it tightly in greeting.
Magan returns the grip, slapping Jameson on the back.
"Business mostly I'm afraid, can't eat if I'm not working. I wouldn't feel right to pass on through without catching up with my favourite farrier though. How's business?"
Jameson grimaces and dusts off his thick smith's smock.
"Busy. The commander has me working overtime. Men are being sent east and we're to provide more arms and armour. Something's coming Magan and folks like you and I tend to get caught up in that kind of mess."
Magan shakes his head.
My father cannot be making a move already. This must be to do with whoever has landed.
We get caught up, but we always survive. That is who we are. Speaking of business though, my work led to some rather nice chain armour falling into my hands.
Magan produces the still slightly bloody chain shirt.
It needs a clean but the workmanship seems rather sound to me. As you can tell, it's previous owner isn't going to be needing it anymore. Perhaps it could save you some time?
He grins.
"Obviously you won't be able to spare any weapons in trade, but I'm short of horses, my friend are going to end up slowing me down if I can't get them mounted soon, so maybe we can help each other out? Just like old times."
Jameson hefts the chain shirt in his hand and looks it up and down critically.
"Well this has seen better days, but I'm sure I can find a use for it... it'll take more than just that to see you to a horse though."
He peers over at Magan's sack of looted weapons and armour.
"What else do you have? We have riders too. I'll need to have a decent amount to show for it if you're to make off with our good cornish stock."
He grins as he says this. Magan can tell he's starting to bargain.
Magan grins back.
"Don't treat me like a customer Jameson. You know that chain is worth a horse. I have 5 sets of leather armour, 3 bucklers, 3 shortbows and 58 arrows. 2 small maces and 2 handaxes. That should easily see me to 2 horses with simple saddles and I'd still be doing you a huge favour."
Magan laughs, but feels the truth of his statement, if it weren't for his anxiety to catch up to the group he would never offer such a good deal.
Jameson shrugs resignedly.
"You take the fun out of the deal when you put it like that Magan... but I can outfit an entire skirmishing party if you really have that much for me. Two horses you say? They won't be the big destriers, but I can have a couple of rounceys saddled and ready to go in a few minutes."
Magan shakes Jameson's hand and empties the bag on the table. He grasps his arm again.
"Take care of yourself Jameson. Bad things are happening, I can feel it. There are bandits in the old mine down the road, Lords are making plays that are going to cost hundreds of lives for a shaftment of land. Keep yourself in the background eh?"
Jameson nods sombrely and returns the firm farewell.
"You know me, happiest amongst the horses. Take care of yourself, friend."
He waves to a stable boy to get Magan started and five minutes later he is mounted and ready to go. The guards eye the Saxon suspiciously as he rides out through the gate with three saddled horses.
Magan moves as swiftly as is sensible in a village in order to catch up with his companions, thinking up names for the horses as he rides.