Traveller Inceptio

Godric gathered a war council that included Yffi from the hunters, Ceolwulf, Michael, Hurley, and his brother Desmond.

It was finally agreed to take three courses of action.

In the first team, Desmond and Aeoelhun the hunter were to take two ponies. The village now had six including the two brought in by the new arrivals. Half a dozen men, including Ceolwulf, Hengist and Alric would accompany them. They were to go to the hiding place by the river where the weapons and blacksmith tools were buried. Aeoelhun knew the woods intimately and would be most likely to detect if Vikings were about, especially as they were strangers to the forest. On the way back they would check on the cart.

Godric wanted to retrieve the weapons to arm more of the villagers. Though they all owned and could use spears, Ceolwulf was one of a number of the men who were keen to arm themselves with a Viking axe. As there was a risk they could meet a Viking patrol, they needed a few strong and experienced warriors in the party and Ceolwulf was one of their mightiest.

The second course of action was for Michael, Hurley, Yffi and Eadric to scout the Viking camp to determine how many Vikings remained in the forest. Michael and Hurley agreed that they needed additional intelligence on their enemy.

A third group, led by Godric and Hereric the hunter, was to organise the villagers to strengthen the village defences, train the sentries, and make sure there were enough men armed and ready at all times. All villagers were to practice with the spear, even the women. They were also to gather food and prepare for a siege.

Michael and Tatae shared a tender farewell. Her fear for his safety was tempered by her faith in the warding powers of his amulet, and she held hers as she kissed him. Her cat quietly snoozed by the entrance to their small cave and it gave him a golden-eyed stare before it rolled to its back and enjoyed the sunshine on its tummy.

Later, in the forest, Michael quietly muttered, “I’m hoping the Vikings are still under the weather from their boozing.”

Yffi chuckled. “I’m hoping they are gone,” he said as they watched his two dogs scout ahead.

Hurley was at first concerned at the potential for their patrol to be given away by the dogs, but Yffi assured him, “Ah, Lord Hurley, worry not. These dogs o’mine know their business. It’ll be like hunting boar; they’ll know when to be quiet. Nothing will make up for their keen noses and ears. Just be grateful they weren’t with me when we hunted you.”

Hurley looked to Yffi and frowned a moment before he gave a grudging smile as he watched the dogs surge ahead, “I am, my friend. Oh, I so am.”

Yffi nodded and smiled, though Michael could tell the hunter was still unsure of Hurley. “Their camp is not far away,” he added with a wave of his arm. They guessed the enemy was only an hour from their temporary village.

While they walked, Eadric struck up a quiet conversation with Hurley. “Lord Michael tells me he’s seen black people. Have you seen black people, Lord Hurley?” asked Eadric.

“He has a fascination with black skin.” Michael laughed.

Hurley chuckled. “Aye, lad, I know about black skins alright. I spent some time in their land fighting some of the bastards, while others were grand and you could trust your life with them. We were to rescue some of our comrades who had been tricked. Some of our comrades were like me, and some were black, and some brown. As it turned out, we were outnumbered, but we were better trained. To make a long story short, we killed many and captured their leader.” What Hurley didn’t say was how he had personally killed two of the enemy and had been decorated as a result. His lifetime in the SAS had begun in earnest.

Conversations soon quietened. Though Michael estimated they had been walking for about half an hour, they remained silent and moved like shadows through the forest, the two large dogs their nose and ears. Soon one of the dogs, Aart, ran to Yffi’s side and stood stock-still to stare ahead with his eyes fixed on something further off. Beomia joined him and hers was a more sinister look, her muzzle wrinkling as her teeth bared silently. She licked her muzzle and bared the teeth again.

The men immediately sought cover. They heard a muttered conversation and a grunt. Michael moved silently to hide behind a tree and looked over the bushes where he saw two bearded men. One squatted in the leaves while the other stood watch, leaning in a relaxed manner on his spear. Michael was in the unenviable position of watching the man voiding his bowels and could attest it was liquid. Even from fifteen metres away, he could hear noisy and prolonged farts. The squatting man groaned and the other laughed gently, shook his head and made a joke, to which the other swore as he leaned out to grasp a couple of leaves to wipe his arse. He stood momentarily, groaned, and squatted again. Michael suspected the consumption of raw, unfiltered beor.

The team had agreed to kill any Vikings as long as it presented no real risk. These were the men who had burned their homes and killed the monks and villagers. The deaths of a few would enhance any fear the marauders might have of the forest and might even encourage them to leave. Michael glanced at Hurley and Yffi, who nodded. The two men and the dogs crept into the forest and moved silently as they circled to the other side of the Vikings. Michael signalled to Eadric and pulled out his seax, so Eadric did the same. He signalled that Eadric was to make the kill. He had warned the lad this could happen and Eadric immediately looked nervous. The lad had been taught how to kill up close and had begged Michael to let him make the kill if the chance presented itself. Now it was time to do the job.

Michael moved silently at a crouch and rarely permitted the potential victims from his sight. Eadric crept with him and Michael had to check a couple of times to see if the lad was still there, so silently did he move. They were positioned over the right shoulder of the spearman, only six or so paces away, and he knew that Hurley was positioned behind the squatter. He couldn’t see any sign of them, even though he knew they were there. Eadric crouched, ready. Michael’s adrenalin surged and he hefted his knife. The squatter reached forward to grab more leaves when the two dogs silently emerged from the bushes. Without a sound Aart seized the man’s face in his massive jaws as Beomia grasped his arm. Taking the cue, Eadric ran forward while the horrified spearman looked on, unable to react to the attack. His throat was neatly slit. It took only a second. Michael watched as Eadric pulled the man’s head back and cut his throat as if he had been doing it all his life. The lads had practiced the manoeuvre on each other, using sticks or even their fingers until they had perfected their technique.

Yffi leaped forward and speared the squatting man who was unable even to scream. It took only moments and the two Vikings were dead. The dogs then moved silently back to their master’s side, alert and dangerous, their ears scanning the silent forest for more targets.

Hurley raised his eyebrows to Michael and nodded, impressed, as the kills were conducted coolly, calmly, and in almost total silence. Both clapped young Eadric on the back and congratulated Yffi. Eadric’s only reaction was to nod with a grim half-smile, even though he was deathly pale. Michael managed the situation carefully as their role was to create a professional killer of enemies, not a murderer, so their praise was vital.

They dragged the bodies far enough into the bushes so only the most casual observation would miss them. They didn’t have the luxury of burying these men, but also didn’t want them found: not yet.

They moved closer to the camp, but Yffi remained with the dead Vikings. The dogs would become too excited near the enemy camp, so Michael, Hurley and Eadric crept forward. Though the sky was grey, the sun threatened to make an appearance, and in such good light they had to be even more cautious in their use of cover. They smelt campfire smoke and heard laughter ahead. Hurley, at point, dropped to a crouch behind a small rocky outcrop and signalled that the camp was slightly ahead and to his right.

From their cover, they had the slight elevation that helped them to quickly scan the enemy encampment. A good-sized raiding party had built semi-permanent shelters, indicating they planned to stay for more than a few days. Some large lean-tos were positioned near a creek that coiled through this sparsely wooded part of the forest. A dozen hobbled horses grazed nearby as a few men lounged, a little worse for wear from the beor. Empty barrels were evident. They counted three full barrels still untouched.

A deer hung by its back-legs from a branch where it had been butchered and a goodly part consumed. Their loot, gathered in their rampage through the country, was sheltered in another lean-to. Bolts of cloth and cooking cauldrons were stacked alongside sacks. Weapons lay propped handy as needed, but were not carried. The Vikings appeared relaxed, not expecting danger or attack from anyone, especially the people they were bent on destroying.

Michael and Hurley calculated approximately twenty Vikings in the camp. “How many aren’t seen, do you think?” Hurley whispered quietly. “These lads will have scouting teams out searching for the village or for a more direct route to the south to join the rest of Sven Forkbeard’s army. They certainly don’t seem worried though.”

Cautiously they sat and watched the Vikings for about an hour.

“What do you think?” whispered Michael.

“We could take this lot on, but we’d suffer a lot of losses. My guess is that they’ll not bother with the village if there’s no reason to. They’ll probably become bored and head off to join the rest of the Viking army,” whispered Hurley.

“They’re still drinking the beor,” observed Eadric.

“True, they’re not concerned about the villagers at the moment,” pondered Michael.

Hurley grunted. “Unless something stirs these men up, I can see them wandering off.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “I’m guessing killing eight of their fellows would make a convincing argument.”

Hurley said nothing, but winced. He realised killing the men in the forest may have been a bad idea.

They watched as three Vikings ran into the camp. They were plainly agitated and furious, speaking loudly, and one of them kicked another that lay snoozing to rouse him to his feet.

“Oops, I think they might have found the two we just bumped off,” whispered Michael.

“Think Yffi will be alright?” asked Hurley. It was no good worrying about the Vikings now. They’d be out for blood, so the best they could do was make a run for it and hope they hadn’t been seen.

“Aye. He can be damn near invisible,” replied Michael quietly.

A shower of rain moved across the forest. The noise of the falling rain allowed them to creep carefully from their hiding place and hasten back to the village.