So, I'm here again! Sorry, I'm trying to find a decent spell checker, and haven't found a good one yet; can't afford Microsoft Word :.

To Arms Part II

"Damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead."-Admiral David Farragutt, US Navy

Sir Godric wasn't having a good time at all. Departing after Rowena insisted he leave for his own safety, he'd returned, partially at William's encouragement to the West Country. To his delight, most of the men who'd been under his command immediately rallied to his summons. Many had been under oppression by the magical legions and were more than ready to fight back. Inspired by Sir Fear Not's presence, his force had swelled, but Sir Godric had dispersed them among the villages to keep Morgana from finding out. Establishing his headquarters at Shrewsbury, Salazar came to join him not long afterward.

"So, your house and my house went to war at some point," Salazar asked. Sir Godric was one-no-his best friend. Recently however, he'd discovered in the two weeks since leaving Rowena Ravenclaw's people, their families were a lot more complicated.

"Of course they did," Sir Godric said dismissively. "Must I remind you England was divided into kingdoms like Mercia, East Anglia, and Camelot at the time. The Slytherins controlled East Anglia and my family was in Camelot. They went to war near Stonehenge, as you might know. The war ended inconclusively and we signed a peace treaty. Not long afterward the Vikings invaded and all hell broke loose."

"Oh," Salazar said. "So, it doesn't affect you at all."

"Salazar," Sir Godric said, rolling his eyes. "It was over 500 years ago. I don't hold grudges for that long."

"Fair point," Salazar said.

"What about that basilisk of yours?"

"What?"

"The one you and the girls found near the ruins of Camelot."

"I sent it on its way," Salazar said. "It would've been a good ally though. Imagine, it killing an entire army just by looking at them."

"If only it was that simple, we'd need to kill all the roosters within a ten-mile radius first."

"Fair point," Salazar conceded.

"Still, good idea," Godric said. "You know Salazar, you'd be a great commander if you'd stop hating the nobility so much."

"I have my reasons," Salazar spat. "Don't try to understand."

"Maybe you should talk to Rowena about that."

"I will, she's the closest person I know. We both hate our families, and we both were isolated from those who we loved. I need not remind you of what happened to my uncle Cyne the Terrible."

Yes, I know," Godric added. "My father told me of what happened."

"Your family..."

"Wasn't involved no," Godric said. "Wizards and a Muggle force sent by then King Edward the Confessor were the ones responsible for capturing and executing him."

"Okay," Salazar said.

"Sirs," one of the local knights came running into the house that the two had rented from it's wealthy owner. "An army is on the way."

"Morgana no doubt," Godric said calmly, not an ounce of fear in his voice. "It was to come sooner or later. We'll crush her force like a sponge."

"Hold on Sir Brave lot," Salazar intervened. "We have to win the battle first. I need not remind you to how overconfidence has resulted in the downfall of many a commander. The Moors at the Battle of Tours are one example."

"Well, that's why you get to come up with the battle plan," Godric said. "Account for wizards in the main force as well. I won't be surprised if some of the men who abandoned your family in East Anglia might be there as well."

"It'll be my pleasure," Salazar said with a grim expression on his face.

For the next six hours Salazar shut himself up with a local map of the area, scouting reports of the enemy force, and a rough estimate from Godric of what he had to work with. Eventually he emerged with a full fledged battle plan.

"Wow Salazar, this is amazing," Godric said, looking it over. Salazar had every angle covered, from how far the archers would fire to were what men would stand where.

"It's a little complicated though for fyrdman. Can you simplify it, no fancy maneuvers?"

"Fair point," Salazar observed. "But the..."

"Salazar, the Romans could pull if off, however, if you where to line up the men without classification as to weapon type, they could pull it off. Remember, make the plan modifiable in case something goes wrong."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize, simplify it, and we'll use it."

"One more thing Salazar," Godric said, closing his eyes. "Before you leave, I want to discuss Muggles. You attacked innocent Muggles and brutalized a fallen soldier...let me finish, no interruptions. I have elected to overlook them do to your tragic history, but I feel I must warn you now. By working with me, you agree to uphold the Gryffindor family honor; freedom and justice. Any stain on that honor I will deal with personally. Agreed?"

Salazar couldn't quite see what he meant. He'd been working to get his temper under control, with some success, but he still hated Muggles with a passion. "Okay Godric, it won't happen again," Salazar promised, leaving Sir Godric's presence

Sir Godric was a whirlwind of activity. Visiting every hamlet, every village, every major city in his former lands, men turned out in droves to his command. Soon over 5,000 Saxon and Norman local garrisons were under his command.

"First order of business," Sir Godric said. "We find a battlefield and I already know where."

"Where?" asked Salazar.

"I was thinking," Godric said. "Sit down, this is only for your and my ears only. We need to check out Camelot again."

"What do you mean, Morgana destroyed the place when we fled."

"Maybe, maybe not, when we triumph...don't think otherwise Salazar...when we triumph, we'll slip away for just a few hours in the aftermath with a small retinue of wizards and men we trust and seize Merlin's library Rowena discovered; if it's still there."

Salazar saw only one flaw in the plan. "How will we slip away, and when?"

"During the mop-up when our men are gathering the wounded and the dead," Sir Godric pointed out. "Most commanders retreat to their tents to plan the next day's operations. Nobody will miss us. I estimate two hours tops."

Salazar pondered. "I can fit your idea in, it's bold, I hope it's not too bold."

"I see your point," Sir Godric said. He conceded that sometimes he was a little too bold for his own good sometimes. "Make it quick. We mobilize when the Sun comes up, no matter rain or shine."


To their utter astonishment, the opposing army did something no sensible, experienced commander would ever try. Whoever was commanding said army lined the men up in a single file column, complete with wagon trains that stretched for nearly a mile on muddy, thin, forested, poor roads rather than taking the well-established Roman roads that connected the major cities like Manchester and was quick to seize the golden opportunity before him.

"Okay," Sir Godric briefed his commanders. "Here's the plan. There will be twenty groups line up here." Before them a rough map in the dirt showing the road.

Godric's army had assembled on a large plateau overlooking the entire valley that the road ran through before them. "In the woods fifty paces from each other, doesn't really matter, line up the 2,000 men in small groups. Salazar and I will be at the front of the column."

Sir Godric drew a small arrow to indicate where the enemy column was marching. "So, upon my signal, the riders will run along the line in these woods holding torches. When the torch passes your position, have the archer unleashed a barrage of arrows, then have your infantry plow into the enemy. Fight then retreat, attack, and retreat. Got it?"

All of Sir Godric's subordinates nodded. "Okay, the enemy arm will break up, the vast bulk of the forward section will run down this road into where the valley opens up. Here, the 3,000 men vanguard commanded by Sir Harold will charge on all sides and finish the rout. Any questions?"

No one asked; everyone was eager to get started. The approaching forces could be heard even though they were at least two miles away.

"I never seen such stupidity in my life," Sir Godric commented to Salazar, and they left to take up command of their battalions. "Why not march down the Roman road. It's safer and faster."

"Let's not curse ourselves," Salazar said. "We haven't even started the hard part yet."

The battle went pretty much as Salazar predicted. The marching army was just coming out of the valley when the rear formations were beset by the first assaults from Sir Godric's and Salazar's battle lions. Riders raced along the lines with torches, setting off more men crashing into the disorganized army. Like the chase in the market and the thieves Helga and Rowena, Godric's men showed the same sense of no mercy. They cut down enemy soldiers, then retreated back into the dark. Within minutes, the enemy army became little more than a armed mob. Men, panicked, lumped together in one large mass heading down the muddy road, harried by Saxon warriors from all sides. Their mysterious commanders again lost all control of their men. When the panicked mass emerged at the end of the valley, spilling onto the large meadow, Sir Godric unleashed his reserves into the armed mob.

When that happened, Godric and Salazar turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. Both appeared on top of the ruins Salazar and the girls had explored just a few months prior. Vast monoliths, the remains of a once-thriving town and a citadel stretched for hundreds of yards in each direction, hidden within a scraggly wood. Salazar looked about, searching for landmarks from their previous visit.

"This way," Salazar said, pointing with his wand. "Lu..."

"No," Godric replied, grabbing his wrist. "We can't risk detection."

A full moon illuminated the wood, but the scraggly trees obscured everything and the dancing light made it very creepy. Salazar lead the way until he came to a large depression in the ground.

"Strange, this entire area was consumed by magical flame," he whispered, examining decade old tree roots and finding them to be scorched.

"Rowena made it clear what she saw."

"Maybe Morgana made us think we saw flame. It's not beyond her capabilities."

Salazar knew that Godric was probably correct. "Okay, no light...how do we..."

Crash!

Salazar went down into the same hole that Rowena had fallen into.

"Okay, I found it," Salazar said, not believing how hard his bottom felt.

"Wow, those weren't flames," Godric noted. "But where do we even stop looking? It takes scholars years to got through all this stuff."

"Wait, there might be a way."

He lead the way out of Merlin's vast library into the chamber where Rowena had translated the word Morgana from. The coffin was still there, the lid ajar just as they had seen it after fleeing just three months prior.

"Hurry, take some of the markings off of this thing," Salazar said, pulling out a piece of parchment and tapping his wand against it.

Markings and ink appeared on it, sketching the symbols that either one of the two men had any idea what they meant.

"We show this to Rowena, maybe it'll have the answers we need."

"Or maybe not," said a girlish voice.

Morgana, her red hair askew, dirt streaks on her face, and mud caked on her Romanesque attire (Godric tried to stifle his laughter). Flanked by two masked men, she looked even more terrifying than the last time Salazar had seen her in person. Eight more circled the two Saxon men from behind.

"Avada Kadavra!" Morgana shouted.

Both Salazar and Sir Godric ducked and the green curse missed; one of Morgana's followers wasn't as fortunate. He took it straight to the face and collapsed, opening a hole in the circle Slytherin and Gryffindor were quick to exploit. Both shot through both the cavern exploded in a litany of curses, counter-curses and jinx. Both didn't look back as Morgana began screaming in rage as they vanished with a small 'pop'.

The Battle of Tours was pivotal in history. The Moors were Muslim invaders from Spain who tried to conquer all of Europe. They underestimated Charles Martel (The Hammer), who was at a great disadvantage. The Moors had superior cavalry; Martel had none. But Charles had a veteran force, superior knowledge of the terrain, and he knew his enemy's weakness. Long story short, Martel's men withstood the Moorish cavalry charge, killed the Muslim commander, and sent the Moors packing back to Spain. Seven years later when the Moors retuned, Martel had a cavalry force that went toe to toe with the Muslim horseman and ended any more Muslim invasion of France.