‘We are in Lahbland now,’ Ulrich told Peta, ‘We had better be careful.’ The countryside did not look any different and Ulrich insisted on double-checking with Dafied before believing what Werner had told him.
‘How are your lessons?’ Peta asked.
‘Fine, Alwin is a patient teacher, and Werner knows some clever tricks.’
‘Thankfully this slower pace will give you more time to learn,’ Peta said.
‘Yes, but it will give the enemy more time to prepare too.’
Peta smiled at him and replied reassuringly, ‘I’m sure Sir Dafied knows what he is doing.’
‘How are you finding all this walking?’
‘I’m used to it,’ Peta replied, ‘I have spent a long time on the road.’
‘Why is that?’ Ulrich asked, disappointed at Peta’s response. His own legs ached terribly.
‘After leaving Twofords, I just could not find anywhere to settle. The plan was to return home, if I did not find somewhere, but after each town I would say one more.’ That was until I was caught disguised as a man.'
‘Did you know my mother, when you were a child,’ Ulrich asked.
‘I must have been ten when she arrived in the village, I can’t remember much about it. There was a lot of talk though. Why would a wealthy family make their daughter marry a blacksmith, and so far away from home? Four days to ride at least, over week to walk. Most avoided her at first, except Mistress Joanna.’
‘Why her,’ Ulrich asked, recalling Idela and her mother’s visit.
‘They say she’s a bit of a snob and she wanted to get to know your mother’s family. I heard rumours that Joanna was not being a good mother to Idela, and it was Bruna who went to help her. Your mother spent a lot of time with Idela, and she gradually brought Joanna and her together. They were close friends by the time you were born.’
‘Do you know much about my mother’s life before she came to Twofords,’ Ulrich asked.
‘No, by the time I got to know her she was very happy with life in the village. She was concerned about her family, her sister’s husband was being cruel, and costing the family a lot of money. She also thought her brother Dafied was failing as a farmer and wondered what would happen to him when he inherited their father’s estate. But these were events of the time, not from before her wedding.’
Ulrich and Peta walked on in silence, although they maintained a discreet distance from the others. Ulrich went back over the conversation in his mind. He had not learnt anything radically new. In fact, some things became more puzzling. Why had his mother refused to agree to his betrothal to Idela, when she obviously had cared for the vintner’s daughter? Did she still hope that he and Peta would marry? Ulrich thought that absurd, the woman was far too old for him. He would have to find a way to get to visit his grandparents.
Ulrich had less time to think about his home and family as his lessons grew harder and more intensive, but soon the young squire was able to beat Alwin and Werner on a regular basis. Three weeks after leaving Ricksham, Dafied changed the way they travelled; he made them rest during the day, hidden away, in a wood or copse, only allowing travel under cover of darkness. He also increased the pace so that they arrived in the area of Longhorn a good two days before the rebels would be expecting them.
***
Ulrich knew they must be close to the village because one night Dafied did not move them, insisting they sleep, only to awake them just after midnight. It surprised Ulrich how easily he slept, but maybe two weeks on the road may have helped. Dafied gathered his men under the full moon and briefed them.
‘Alwin just got back from his scouting trip and is able to say that they are not expecting us so soon, but they are in the middle of preparations. They have built a stockade around the village and even though it is incomplete, we would not be able to attack them easily in the village.
‘The villagers have hired some mercenaries, Alwin counted about four led by Reynard, I’ve met him before. We should be able to handle this without having to send for more troops. Reynard fights by the rules of the Mercenary Guild, which means that we should be able to get him to engage us outside the village and he will not waste lives, so if we can overcome his men, he will surrender.’
The briefing over the squad went about final preparations. Werner sat under a large tree tightening the bindings on the haft of his battleaxe, Alwin stood nearby looking up to the stars praying silently to himself, and the two bowmen sat quietly murmuring to each other as they oiled their crossbows.
Ulrich decided he would loosen up by practicing his sword strokes. He started by swinging his sword in one arm then the other. The moonlight glinting off the polished metal of his blade fascinated him, and he continued his exercises longer than he intended, as the silvery flashes trapped his attention.
Peta came up and sat down nearby to watch him.
‘You will remember to do as your uncle tells you,’ she said.
Ulrich stopped his movements and looked at her, he was about to reproach her for speaking to him like a child, then thought it wise not to.
‘I will,’ he said instead.
‘When we get back to Ricksham,’ Peta said, ‘don’t be hasty in accepting Eloise’s offer.’
‘But when you visited us at the end of the war, you said I should get away from home and get some experience.’
Ulrich saw Peta look away pensively; she was obviously having second thoughts about her advice.
‘I didn’t mean for you to jump into bed with the first whore that you crossed paths with.’
‘But what did you mean?’
‘I just thought,’ Peta started to say, but Ulrich could see she was having difficulty expressing herself. She stood up and walked to him, putting her arms gently around him, held him close. ‘You are so innocent and unspoiled. You should be with someone special.’
The image of Idela flashed through Ulrich’s mind. An invisible band tightened around his chest and water filled his eyes. He had failed, but he would not give up. He could still avenge her. Softly he pushed Peta away in order to see her face.
‘Maybe I was right the first time,’ Peta said her voice firm, her expression harder. ‘There are some things someone your age should know. Normally your parents would tell you or maybe you would pick up tips from friends, but for whatever reason Bruna has failed to prepare you for life as an adult.’
‘Why?’
Peta paused; Ulrich tensed unsure what the reply would be.
‘Because she loves you, like all who mothers want to keep their sons as boys.’
‘She knows that’s not possible,’ Ulrich said letting his arm fall back to his side.
‘But she thinks she can beat nature. She’s so frightened of losing you, that she will try anything, even feeding you powder of dragon scales.’
‘Is that why she didn’t want me to marry Idela?’
Again, Peta paused before replying. ‘Dafied told me she was too old for you.’
‘But you’re even older and Mother suggested we get married?’
‘I know.’ Peta looked flustered. She glanced back towards the other men, then back at Ulrich, ‘Idela would have taken you away from her, I would have joined the family, you would have provided for me.’
‘I don’t see the difference. I would want any wife of mine to be part of my family.’
‘Your mother knows things about me. About my past, she would reveal them if I threatened her relationship with you.’
‘Such as?’
Peta flinched, and Ulrich cursed himself for being so insensitive.
‘I’m not a virgin.’
Ulrich stepped back horrified at what he had just heard. Why would he want someone already soiled when he could have had an innocent like Idela. ‘You’ve been touched?’ he said, trying to sound as concerned as possible to hide his shock.
‘Oh, Ulrich you make it sound so sweet,’ Peta said, her voice turning warm and loving. ‘I haven’t heard that term since I was a child. Do you know how to touch a woman?’
Ulrich sheathed his sword, a manly thing to do, or so he hoped, but looking back at Peta he realised that he had not been able to hide anything from her. He looked passed her, and checked that the others were still too busy or far enough away. ‘No,’ he said as his cheeks burned.
‘I’ll teach you,’ she said, but before his hopes could rise she added, ‘but don’t get any ideas. I’ll tell you what it is about, as a midwife I think I can answer any questions you may have.’
Ulrich felt a weight lift off him. He felt an inch taller. He could return to Ricksham and become a man at last. ‘Then I could take Eloise up on her offer.’
‘If you still feel inclined,’ Peta replied with a sigh, ‘but speak with me first if that is what you decide.’
‘Why?’
‘Eloise may know which girl will give you a good time, she might even give you a choice, but she does not know which can be truly trusted.’
‘She must know her whores,’ Ulrich said.
‘She’s their boss; they are not open in front of her. I acted as their maid, and saw them relax, I know who talks about their men and who doesn’t.’
Ulrich looked at the woman and saw her face was full of concern. ‘What sort of things do they say?’ he asked.
‘Some talk more than others. It is not what they talk about, but who. I can let you know which girls can be trusted not to reveal that you were there. There will be less chance of your mother finding out.’
Dafied approached and they stopped talking.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Fine, just a bit nervous,’ Ulrich replied as he brought his sword up above his head then flashed it back down again. Suddenly he winced and felt under his sword arm. ‘My armour’s pinching me,’ he said, ‘it fitted me two months ago.’
‘You must be still growing,’ Dafied said and examined the fit of the breastplate, checking that the straps were correctly tightened. Across the back the armour fitted perfectly, the length was correct but Ulrich still felt that it was tight across the chest. Dafied slipped his fingers around the edges, checking the fit under the arms; he had definitely put on a bit more flesh.
‘Have you been adding the powder of dragon scales to your food?’ Dafied asked. There was a pause as Ulrich sheepishly avoided his gaze.
‘Well,’ Ulrich started, ’I thought after what you said back at home.’
‘I know what I said, but you shouldn’t just stop taking it. You have to be weaned off it. How long since you last had some?’
‘I haven’t had any since we left home,’ Ulrich said, 'and I managed to start skipping some not long after Peta told us the war was over.'
Ulrich looked at his uncle, his face stern as he tried to adjust the armour. The fit was not perfect, the slight loosening of two straps stopped the painful pinching, but the breastplate was still pressing against his chest.
***
Keeping as low as possible, Ulrich crept to the edge of the wood. He found that he was overlooking a shallow valley; the small village perched on the top of a hill on the other side. He could make out people moving on the slope just below the village. The mercenaries were easy to identify, they swaggered with the confidence of experienced fighters whilst the villagers tended the slopes trying to bring in supplies for what they expected to be a long siege.
A tall figure moving amongst them caught Ulrich’s eye. Watching the muscular frame, and fascinated by the long plaited blond hair, Ulrich felt very nervous. He blinked as the sun flashed off the mercenary's highly polished armour.
Dafied must have noticed his attention and whispered, ‘She’s a blancher, a female warrior, used to be one of the Lahbland queen's bodyguards. Remember, she is just another soldier to fight, forget that she is a woman, for she will show you no quarter. Blanchers never surrender to men.’ Then in an almost inaudible whisper he added, 'That sword she's carrying looks like the one we are after. You keep an eye on her, I don't want the others knowing why we are truly here.'
Without a word, Dafied stood up and the others did the same, then without rushing, they slowly walked down the slope. They were three quarters of the way down before they were noticed and still the alarm was not raised. Seeing that some of the villagers were looking at his men, Dafied quickened the pace and they jogged down the remainder of the slope. When they reached the stream gurgling down the bottom of the valley they charged up the slope at a run.
The villagers were now scrambling for their weapons and the mercenaries took up position in front of the village walls
Dafied halted fifty yards short of the enemy and his two bowmen on the flanks trained their crossbows on the opponent’s archers before they could draw their bows. The archers stood still knowing that if either of them moved they would be dead before they could aim.
There was panic amongst the women of the village, and then Ulrich noticed that when they had crossed the river they put themselves between the village and a small group of children. Ulrich knew that Dafied would not harm them, but the villagers did not.
***
Orinda looked down the slope at the approaching enemy. She counted ten of them, two were in a stand off with her archer comrades that left eight free to fight.
Reynard, Duncan and herself were the only professional fighters. Ten men from the village had remained to defend their village. Orinda was disappointed; she had signed up for this fight more on principle than for money, yet most of the men who had hired her had fled. Those that had remained had forbidden the women to take up arms, yet it was they who stood to gain the most.
Orinda saw the irony in the situation, her foe was from her ancestral home country, and her allies had commissioned her to rebel against the new ruler’s law that their daughters should face selection for sacrifice to a dragon. She, a woman, had agreed to the fight because she abhorred the evil practice. The village leaders had led the commission but then fled.
She should have walked away, but all her principles forbade it. She wanted to make a stand against the Runedorians, yet she wondered if the sword she carried had brought her enemies to this little village. The few troops suggested not and surely, the Runedorians would realise the sword had long ago lost any magical powers. Now faced by an all male enemy she could not yield.
She knew Reynard did not look upon this as a winnable battle, but would give a good show for the villagers, then surrender. The leader looked the best opponent. He had the bearing and confidence of a seasoned fighter. If she got into a fight with him, there could be the possibility that if she killed him the Runedorians would flee. However, she also suspected that Reynard might be thinking the same thing, in which case she had nothing to lose.
She and Reynard were good fighters, the Runedorian leader would not stand a chance, but if his men did not retreat at his death, she had a problem. She could not surrender again without shame; she would have to continue on her own until they killed her. Even worse, they could refuse to take her on and remain out of her reach until she collapsed through lack of sleep.
Checking for any possible problems Orinda noticed the leader’s young squire. He did not leave his master’s side, but did keep a respectful distance. She yelled to the villager in front of her to take the young lad, who would be easy meat.
The enemy started slowly walking up the slope, although the crossbowmen kept their station their bows trained on the archers. The villagers were getting agitated as the enemy approached. Reynard paid close attention to the locals, more so than the enemy, he knew there would come a point when they would break and flee.
The squire caught Orinda’s eye as he flexed his arms, the sun glinting off his blade. It shone brightly, giving away the high quality of its manufacture. His armour looked to be of high quality as well. It was unusual for a squire to be so well equipped. His knight’s equipment was not shoddy but looked more used.
‘Charge!’ yelled Reynard just before the nervous villagers were about to break.
Orinda ran beside him as they both made for the enemy leader. Their enemy stopped its advance awaiting the running villagers. None of the locals were making for the enemy leader, which meant that she and Reynard would have a clear run.
The gap between the opposing groups closed, and then Orinda's mind flashed back to the final battle of the war. She could see clearly in this bright sunshine, but that desperate day at the beginning of spring, her sight had been hampered by the rain dripping of her helmet into her eyes. The knight's movements were instantly recognisable, and the way he commanded his men was exactly the same as those of the knight who had slain Orinda's monarch. She remembered how the old woman's head had been severed despite being held captive and unarmed. She increased her pace, determined to beat Reynard and take vengeance against this coward.
The villagers approached the intruders, the mercenaries a short distance behind them. A flash of sunlight reflected off metal caught Orinda's eye. It was the squire’s sword as he brought it in a sweeping curve down under his opponent’s shield and through the flesh and bone of his leg. It flashed out the other side as if the limb was made of mist. The squire did not pause to confirm that his opponent was no longer a threat nor to celebrate the victory, but turned to protect his knight. Orinda realised that she would have to forgo the knight and kill the squire herself. He had a deadly sword but she had the advantage of height and reach.
Orinda screamed her worst battle cry, hefted the former dragonblade high above her head and charged down the slope, closing on her prey. She saw him turn and stop, raising his own sword above his head more as a shield than an attack. That would do him no good; Orinda’s strength combined with the momentum of her sword as she brought it down on his head would smash his blade before cleaving him from head to groin.
Judging the distance to be right Orinda brought her mighty sword down. Suddenly the boy shifted his weight to his right foot and adjusted grip on his sword. Her sword’s momentum was now Orinda’s downfall as it came down and the new angle of her opponent’s sword deflected it away from his body, and its point buried itself into the turf.
Orinda tried to check her own momentum by locking her left knee, and was relieved to see that some of the energy from her blow had knocked the squire to the ground. However, a sudden kick to her knee from the downed boy caused it to give underneath her. To her horror Orinda could do nothing as her own speed and weight carried her forward and down onto the pummel of her sword driving it three feet further into the ground. Luckily, this impact spun her as she fell and she landed on her back, but now she was disarmed and winded.
The squire was quickly back up on his feet and moved to stand over Orinda. Still winded but alert she did the only thing possible, brought her foot up and kicked him firmly in the groin. She felt satisfaction as the toe of her boot make solid contact with the bone in his pelvis. Strangely, this did not have quite the desired effect. The squire grunted in pain and dropped to his knees astride Orinda, but was far from incapacitated. He quickly lifted his blade above his head ready bring it down upon Orinda’s own. Fiercely she brought her knee up and again, both times lifting the boy off his knees. He pitched forward off balance and Orinda grabbed his wrists. She looked into his face. His tanned flawless skin and long curling eyelashes made him look so young and innocent but his deep brown eyes showed only determination.
Orinda’s greater strength kept the squire from cutting her, but eventually his weight would bring that sword down. She could see it up close now and saw just how sharp its edge was. Even at a slow pace, it would sever her neck. Three times, she had tried to use the advantage of her sex over the boy. Maybe he had arranged himself under his trousers to mitigate such an attack as hers. Swiftly she released his left wrist and reached down between them. She found the opening in his trousers; a skill practiced for somewhat different circumstances, and felt the soft, smooth flesh of his inner thigh. She planned to grab and twist his genitals as soon as she found them.
***
Dafied looked round the battlefield his sword resting on the throat of the mercenary leader. The message had got through as the enemy dropped their swords. Only the blancher and Ulrich seemed to be unaware that hostilities had ceased. He walked over to the grappling combatants, flinching as the woman warrior kneed his squire for the second time. ‘Ulrich, you don’t realise just how lucky you are!’ Dafied said to himself.
Standing over them, he saw the woman reach down. He was unsure that she did not have any weapon within reach, but he cleared his throat just to let her know that he was there. She looked up and he could see that she realised that the battle was over. She laid her head back.
‘You’ve beaten her,’ Dafied said, impressed by Ulrich’s first victory.
A hard glaring look crossed the blancher’s face as Ulrich stood up. Dafied looked at the grin of triumph that spread across his squire’s face.
There had only been two fatalities during the brief battle, but there were quite a few wounded. The villager who had lost a leg to Ulrich might live. The mercenary Duncan had died from a deep gash to his torso and a villager lay decapitated nearby, both the victims of Werner’s battleaxe.
Dafied ordered the mercenaries to see to the dead and help the villagers tend to the wounded. He put Ulrich in charge of the blancher, who was to prepare Duncan’s body for burial.
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