34 Siege 1
Ruccius had chosen a small hillock to the west of the storage depot as his command post. From here he had a good view of the depot and the surrounding fields and was in an optimal position to direct his troops in battle. Flanked by his personal guard, two trumpeters and a buccinator he gazed down at the occupied storage depot below. Behind him, sheltered by a cluster of pine trees, stood the remaining supply wagons. Between the wagons the surgeon and his aides raised a tent as a makeshift field hospital.
The knights galloped towards the hillock. Balan urged his stallion to the front, so that he was right behind Tristan when they halted.
"Refill your quivers, all of you!" Arthur ordered. He dismounted to speak with Ruccius.
Bundles of arrows were handed out among the knights. Balan smiled happily. He had been running out of arrows and it felt good to have his quivers full again. He tried to catch Tristan's eye, but the scout was too busy wiping blood off his sword. When the curved sword finally returned to its scabbard, Tristan proceeded to check his bow and his new arrows. Balan observed him quietly. It occurred to him that he should probably do the same.
But then Ruccius coughed impatiently.
"I want ten men heavy cavalry to ride with Bedivere and guard the east wall," he barked. "Bedivere, take a horn with you. Sound in case of a sortie on your side."
Bedivere took an old battered tuba from one of the trumpeters, then led ten knights back the way they had come.
"Geraint, climb a tree!" Ruccius pointed at the cluster of huge pine trees that stood behind him on the hillock. "Tell me what the Woads are up to behind that wall."
Geraint dismounted and walked towards the trees.
The remaining knights formed a line and turned their horses to face the west wall of the storage depot.
Balan moved his horse between Bors and Tristan and glanced at the scout. Tristan nodded reassuringly and put his hand on Balan's shoulder. Balan grinned. He put his fist on his heart and raised it high in the air, as a silent battle cry. Tristan chuckled and ruffled Balan's hair, then turned his eyes to the storage depot to scan their surroundings. Balan automatically followed his example.
The eastern sky turned pale. Pieces of bread were handed out to the knights by camp followers and Balan gladly stuffed his ration in his mouth. It had been a long night and he was hungry.
Bors sniffed his chunk of bread and closed his eyes in mock delight.
"Hmm… I always try to enjoy these," he jested. "I never know if it's my last."
"That's interesting," Lancelot commented dryly, "I do that with every woman who warms my bed."
The knights laughed.
"Hey Bors!" called Lamorak from the end of the line. "How long until Vanora has the new baby?"
"About… four months, give or take a few," Bors answered with his mouth full, spraying pieces of bread onto Balan's breeches.
"Two," said Dagonet's voice calmly.
Bors shifted in his saddle to stare at Dagonet.
"Only two, eh? I swear she's getting faster with every child she bears. She's a good woman."
Lancelot grinned mischievously and held up his piece of bread for all to see.
"Perhaps I had better enjoy this, too," he sniggered. "For as soon as that baby comes out, Bors will know it is mine."
The knights snorted and Balan giggled loudly.
"What are you laughing at?" Bors boomed, turning to Balan with mock indignation. He playfully boxed Balan's ears and bit another chunk off his bread.
Smiling into the grey light of dawn, Balan thoughtfully chewed his last piece of bread. He enjoyed the banter between the knights, but he began to feel cold.
"Strangers approach!" Tristan called.
As one, the knights drew their weapons.
In the shadows below fifteen men were ascending the hillock.
"Peasants," Tristan's deep voice commented.
The approaching men hesitated at the sight of so many arrows and swords aimed for them.
"Who are you?" Ruccius demanded loudly.
"Are you commander Ruccius?" the leader of the group asked nervously. "My name is Elisedd. We're from the village on the other side of the depot. My people fled to the forest when the Woads appeared. We would have tried to stop them, but there were many of them and too few of us. We are no fighters, sir. But if we can be of use to you, we'll serve you gladly. These men and I are at your command."
Ruccius frowned and thoughtfully scratched his chin. He had to make those bloody Woads leave the storage depot without damaging the food supplies within. He could neither burn down the depot, nor storm it and risk a lengthy battle within its walls. These men could help him with his plan.
"Very well!" he said to the villagers. "Bring me dry firewood and kindling. Enough for a large pyre. Deliver it to our infantry unit on the south side. I want the south gate to burn."
Balan had listened to the exchange with half and ear, but now he spun around to stare at Ruccius. Was Ruccius going to burn down the gate?!
"Keep your eyes in front, boy," Tristan admonished. Without taking his eyes off their surroundings, he extended his arm and flicked Balan's ear.
Balan reluctantly directed his gaze back to the storage depot.
The man who had introduced himself as Elisedd, bowed. "We will bring you all usable wood that we can find, sir."
Ruccius nodded curtly and turned to his knights.
"Light cavalry!" he barked.
Galahad, Balan and the other boys turned in their saddles to look at him.
Ruccius pointed at the villagers. "You will join these men and gather firewood. Agloval, lead them! Hurry!"
The boys steered their horses out of the formation and followed the villagers and a number of camp followers down the hill.
Behind them Ruccius let out a growl of displeasure.
"Not you, boy! What's his name again? Balan! Get your ass over here!"
Balan froze at the angry shout from Ruccius. He halted and turned around.
Ruccius sent the other boys away with an impatient wave of his hand. Then he glared at Balan, who approached him warily.
"Where do you think you are going?!" Ruccius growled. A muscle in his jaw quivered ominously.
Balan stared at his bristling commander. He was at a complete loss what he had done wrong.
"You are to become a scout, are you not?!" Ruccius bellowed, working himself into a rage. "Make yourself useful and learn something, now that you have a chance, boy! On with you, get up in that tree with him!"
Ruccius pointed sharply to Geraint on his high perch in the pines.
Bewildered, Balan rode back to the older knights and dismounted. He looked up at the pines and bit his lip. He had never climbed such enormous trees before. But he was unwilling to show the knights that he was afraid. Ignoring the panicky fluttering in his chest he trudged through the deep snow towards the cluster of pines, determined to do a good job.
A sharp whistle from Tristan made him look back.
Tristan dismounted and beckoned to him. The scout took Balan's bow and long knives from his saddle and held them out to him. Embarrassed, Balan quickly slung the bow over his shoulder and put the long knives in his belt. Then Tristan added several more arrows to the hunting quiver on Balan's back.
"Always take your weapons with you when you climb a tree," Tristan instructed. "The situation on the ground may change while you are up there. What will you do if there is an attack and your horse runs off with your weapons?"
Balan blushed. He had been in such a hurry to prove his worth, that he hadn't thought of his weapons.
Tristan took Balan's sword from his saddle and pushed it between the straps of Balan's quiver and the harness for his throwing knives, securing it to Balan's back. Then he pointed to the cluster of trees.
"Keep the trunk between yourself and the depot whenever possible. Do not present yourself to the Woads as an easy target."
Balan swallowed, but nodded.
Tristan grabbed his shoulders and looked at him seriously.
"Clear all snow off the soles of your boots before you climb up. And be careful, the branches may be slippery. Test every branch before you trust your weight to it. Stay close to the trunk at all times. Go!"
Tristan patted Balan on the shoulder and shoved him in the direction of the trees.
After a few steps, Balan glanced back at the scout. Tristan mounted up and returned his gaze to the storage depot. Balan shivered in the freezing wind. He turned, took a deep breath and marched towards the trees.
AN: The Roman tuba was a bronze military horn, very different from our modern day tuba. It was about four feet long and resembled a simplified version of our modern day trumpet.
Part 2 of this chapter will be up very shortly. ~Josje