Disclaimer: Atlantis, not mine, if it was I'd be much happier
A/N This chapter takes a lot of liberties with believability (Emily's plan), but then it is fiction.
Chapter 6
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Emily was checking her weapons, making sure they were clean and well oiled. There was a battle on the horizon and fear sat heavy in her stomach. The siege had been going well for over a month, but under the cover of night reinforcements had slipped around King Richard's men, and Henry's keep was bristling with over two thousand soldiers. Supplies were low outside the walls and Henry could probably taste victory in his fine wines.
But Emily was not stationed outside the walls; she was in the woods with the majority of the infantry and cavalry. The King had deemed her ideas on drawing Henry out onto the battlefield, the more sensible option. Six months of war strategy games with Sheppard had its practical uses after all. She had approached her Lord the night before they reached Avery castle; after having being part of the troupe sent to scout the route ahead she'd seen the castle for herself; and suggested they send only the least able fighting men. She smiled as she remembered the conversation.
"The least able you say?" Lord Simon enquired, "for what purpose?"
"To draw them out my Lord, the keep is well fortified, with a good supply route over the river, here." She drew a rough map in the dust at their feet, "They will wear us down to our last supplies before we manage to even dent their armour."
"The boy knows nothing." Sneered El Sellit, "He's still green and has never seen fighting, he's afraid."
"Bite your tongue boy!" Lord Simon snarled, "or do you forget you are also an El, making you a squire too, you are not a knight yet boy, for all your Father's 'encouragement'." Turning back to Emily, he gestured for her to continue.
Emily continued her map for a few moments, adding woodland and roads. "we approach along here," she said motioning to one of the roads she had drawn, "they will see us before we come round the corner, assess our number and decide how long our supplies can last. Any chatelaine worth her salt will know how much food to order to keep the army fed until ours are weak and exhausted. They will see us tomorrow at midmorning, we will not reach them until the following dawn, to seal off the supply route to the river will take a lot of time and man power and we will still not catch them before their supplies come through, we will be lost Sir."
A small crowd had gathered whilst she had been speaking, her clear, high voice carrying over the gruff sounds of the men.
"So what do you propose?" a deep voice enquired, causing Emily to look up from her map in surprise.
"Sire, forgive me I did not see you." She stammered, recognising Richard.
The young King smiled and pushed his hand through his shoulder length red hair, "Would you have not voiced your concerns had you known I was present?"
"On the contrary Sire, I would have taken my concerns to you first." She smiled back.
"Good to hear, anyway, your propositions?"
"Yes Sire." She began again, "As they will see us so soon, and we shall be so powerless to stop their supplies, I believe, if what I have heard about Lord Henry is true," She paused and looked at the King, who inclined his head a fraction to agree with her, "Then he will desire to finish us, he will wait it out then charge full force when he believes us too weak to make much of a resistance. He will take the cowards path and slaughter exhausted men." She stopped when she heard a low growl from deep within Richard's throat and a collective intake of breath, believing she had perhaps indeed over-stepped the boundary concerning the King's brother she hung her head.
"Continue boy," Richard urged, "However I believe I know your destination, I can scarce believe I did not realise my Brother's shortcomings myself, I am not angry with you."
Sighing with relief Emily resumed speaking, "My suggestion Sire is that we send men not suited to the battle field, those who can operate siege machinery but are not good in close combat. If we send them with few pack-horses but full armour and weaponry, your Brother may yet believe you are the coward, who sends ill equipped men into battle with no hope of survival." She did not pause this time as the men around her cringed at her words concerning the King's honour, "The elite, infantry and cavalry we leave here," She pointed at a densely wooded area out of the vision of the keep, "with the remainder of the supplies we can have men strong and ready for Henry,"
"Who will ride out when the small contingent has weakened, determined to finish them," Richard continued as she paused to breathe, "they can retreat as the doors open, drawing Henry out further and we meet him here," He pointed to a large area of flat land between the castle and the woodland, "Henry is a bad leader, organising his troops on a battlefield will be a near impossible task for him. An all out battle, we will finish him."
The end of the King's speech was greeted with cheers and exclamations of "Remarkable plan Sire."
Emily smiled and discreetly slipped away.
That had been nearly a month ago and the plan was working perfectly. On the morrow they would charge onto a battlefield of their choosing, and hopefully defeat their enemy. Emily was not looking forward to having to kill, but it was a part of who she had become, and she would not shirk her duties. Placing her weapons on her pallet, she rose to tend to her horse.
As thanks the King had presented her with a new warhorse, he was a big animal at a little under eighteen hands, and his coat was so pale a grey that he looked almost silver, mane and tail were pure white, making the stallion worth a sum that exceeded what a hearth knight could earn in three years. "Don't you die on me tomorrow, do you understand?" she muttered to the horse, before burying her face in his long mane.
The morning of the battle was cold; it felt as though the flames of Hell itself had been extinguished. Emily cupped her hands around the mug of hot spiced cider and finished chewing the last of the warm cinnamon bread Damon had given her. The old man had left with the last of the baggage train only a half hour earlier, the safety of the women, children and elderly was secured, the were away from the battle and yet close enough still to tend to the wounded when the battle was through.
Draining the last of her drink, Emily stood and moved further into her tent. Dressed as she currently was she would last only seconds on the battlefield, a soft wool tunic would be cut through easily, allowing the enemy to carve meat from bone beneath. However being as she was only a squire, she was considered less valuable than the knights around her; protection consisted of merely a thickly padded gambeson and chausses.
"Liam, where are you boy?" Lord Simon called with a muffled shout, whilst struggling to heave his hauberk over his head. Emily hurried to his side and took the knee length mail shirt from his hands.
"My Lord, what are you doing?" she demanded with barely concealed amusement, "you'll do yourself a mischief trying to put this on on your own." She pulled a stool forward and ordered Simon to sit whilst she hefted the shirt over his head. Simon bristled and groused about disrespect as he stood and jigged the hauberk into place. Emily's deft hands made short work of buckling his chausses and sword belt into place, she was about to fling his surcoat over his mail when Simon stopped her and took it himself.
"This part I can do myself." He said as he pulled the silk tunic over his head. Emily watched the red and grey silk shift and settle, marvelling at the beauty of the essential item. When she first saw the surcoat, she had assumed it was Simon's dress robe, but when he explained to her it was for use in battle she didn't understand. He told her it had three main uses, the first to identify which side you were on, in battle the lines become blurred and it easy to lose sight of who is the enemy. The second use, he told her, is to identify your body should you lose your head, he explained that each coat was different, all carried your liege lord's crest and an identifying mark, Simon's was a black arrow on the left shoulder. The final use though, he said, was the most important. The silk covered the mail and stopped it heating up too much in the sun, too much heat on the metal rings could cause them to heat so much they could not be touched, being unable to remove one's hauberk in the intense heat after battle, combined with the fact that the quilted gambeson has caused the knight to sweat, altogether it could result in the knight's death. And to boil to death in your own armour is not an honourable or pleasant way to die.
"Liam!" Simon shocked Emily back to reality, "are you listening to me boy?"
"Sorry my Lord, I was just…thinking."
Simon's expression softened and he grasped his squire's shoulder in an awkward gesture of comfort. "It will not be easy lad, I cannot lie to you. But I can promise you that I will do all I can to keep you safe."
Emily's response was cut short by the call to arms. Earlier fear and excitement had fought for control, but now they both lay heavy in her belly as she quickly collected her weaponry and gathered her horse's reins. Squaring her shoulders and swallowing hard she followed Simon to the battle line.
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"The Trust?!" Cadman exclaimed. "Why…What...I don't understand Rodney!"
"The Trust." Rodney stated, slowing down his speech as though speaking to a child, "Nasty, horrible people, who want Atlantis for themselves. They put a Goa'uld in Colonel Caldwell….Remember?"
"I know who they are Rodney," Cadman replied scathingly, "And I'm not a child. I just don't understand how they got here, or what they're doing, or what we're going to do about it!"
"I'll tell you what we're going to do," John interjected before they started arguing, "We're not gonna let them have Atlantis. If Elizabeth were here, she would've fought, and when she couldn't fight anymore she'd have blown the city to pieces rather than let them have it. We fight and for that we need Teyla and Ronan."
"And Carson." Rodney added.
"Why?"
"Babies…mainland…excuses…oh whatever let's go!"
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