David H. Webb
kickbox
Beckwood Brae is now a newly published book but the author will be happy to get reader's impressions of the extracts below.
From Ch1 The Forest
Norri grabbed a branch and waited until his heart had stopped pounding. He had almost slipped! He never slipped. He looked back at the dewy branch and then down. He could only just see the giant ferns that covered the forest floor.
He was high in the canopy of the orkya tree. He made his living selling the large nuts to merchants and by roasting them at the village tavern on Friday nights. He had a bag of the big, grey-green nuts hanging from a branch nearby. He untied the sack and let it fall to the ground. It took a surprisingly long time before it crashed into the ferns below. He looped his rope over a branch close to the main trunk and began his descent.
The birds were silent. That was unusual. The whole forest felt odd this afternoon: quiet, pensive; as if its usual, earthy tranquility had been disturbed. Norri shrugged off the feeling and climbed down. As he descended from the smaller boughs of the tree’s canopy the branches were thicker and less regular and there were parts where he had to lower himself down with his rope.…
The descent was slow and he couldn’t shake off the sense that something didn’t feel quite right. He kept looking around. The ferns grew thick in this part of the forest. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Something was coming through the undergrowth. He couldn’t see what it was. All he could see was the movement in the tops of the ferns which grew well over head height.
He had climbed quite low now and felt a bit exposed on a branch of the tree so he released his lanyard and dropped the rest of the way to the ground. He thought he could hide better in the ferns. Whatever it was wasn’t at all concerned about making noise. It crashed through the undergrowth and was heading his way.
It sounded like something running on all fours, but no animal that size lived in the forest. Norri thought of climbing back into the tree but now there wasn’t time. He was somewhat hidden by the ferns and he stood as still as he could.
Into a space between the ferns shambled a shaggy, dog-like creature. It was huge! It stopped and sniffed the air, turning toward him; its eyes burning, yellow embers in the late afternoon light. Norri had never seen anything like it. He wasn’t sure whether it could see him in the bracken. It hesitated and there was a long moment when he didn’t even dare to breathe. He thought he heard sounds in the distance …voices. He saw nobody; only heard a voice muffled in the verdant tangle of the forest. ‘Arch Gluck where are ‘ee?’ There was a sharp whistle. The creature turned its head in the direction of the voice; seemed to ignore it and continued on its way. He breathed again, guessing it hadn’t seen him in the fading light.
An odd thought occurred to him. He had caught a gleam in the creature’s eye after it heard the voice. Did it understand the voice and choose to ignore it? Perhaps it was just his fright and his imagination playing tricks. …
From Ch3 The Tavern
Kirin turned away from Norri, back to her work with a flick of her brown hair and thought about the day by the forest pool as she took bread and cheese to the table of obnoxious apprentices. Norri followed her with his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to his brazier, thinking about the same day.
Calls for more nuts soon drove more pleasant thoughts from Norri’s mind.
‘Hey! Nutter! How’s them orkya’s going? A man could die of hunger and thirst in this place,’ yelled Sanders the baker; then, as Kirin tried to get through the narrow gap between the tables, ‘four more tankards of ale, there’s a good lass.’
Jostin the smith’s apprentice was drunk and made a suggestive comment as Kirin turned away with a tray full of empty tankards; Mullins, the cooper’s apprentice, guffawed stupidly with a mouth full of cheese. Sanders had noticed Norri’s fleeting glance at Kirin.
‘Don’t even bother lookin’, Norri, she’s just taking pity on you. Why would she be interested in a nutter: no land, no trade, no money and no future?’ The others at the table laughed.
Norri knew he should not let the insult go unanswered but he was still numb from the stinging blow to the faint hope that momentarily enlivened his heart. It wasn’t that he cared what Sanders and the others thought. They were drunken fools. It was the truth of the jibe that stung him into silence. It wasn’t much of a living. He looked down at his shirt with a newly darned tear in the front. He had repaired it with the wrong colored thread and the repair was obvious. Once it was a good linen shirt that his father had bought for him; now it looked very poor …
From Ch 7 Secret of the Fornvelt
Now Maari was taken aback and suddenly uncertain.
‘This is not for me to say. I … I should not say;’ turning quickly, ‘come look to the fiend-men’s boats.’
She spun around and took off around a bend in the tunnel. Norri realised there was a pale light coming from small openings between large tree roots on the left side of the passage.
Maari stopped and indicated one of the windows.
‘Look!’
Norri looked out the window and saw that it was only two cubits above water. There was a river flowing past almost outside and great tree roots, like pillars, plunging from the roof into the water.
The roof of the cavern glistened with a pale iridescent green glow from patches of some sort of lichen-like growth on the ceiling and the roots. Out of the window he saw a sandy beach on the far side of the water, a waterfall and a little natural daylight coming from above.
On the beach were two small rowing boats drawn up. They were empty and there was no sign of their owners. Then in a moment of sudden terror a boat passed the window and he looked into the face of a great dog. Maari reacted quicker than his instinct to gasp. Her hand was over his mouth and her body against him to stifle the gasp or any sudden movement. He stared wide-eyed at the face in the window. He could almost smell its foul breath. The big brown eyes had an unholy light, canny, fey; as if able to search past sight and reach for his terrified mind.
As the boat slid past the window, a Corrii warrior passed by and Norri could look into the face of their enemy. The face was hard and lined with eyes that stared ahead, empty of any present thought but guiding the boat past the great root columns.
The boat passed. The hand loosened on his mouth and went apologetically limp. ‘They cannot see us – the river windows are like the tree windows. You cannot see in. But they can hear us and maybe sense us. Come, we will go to the meeting tree.’
She led him down the tunnel at a brisk pace. Norri noticed as they walked along a well worn path, that the tunnel was of living wood. Maari saw his interest.
‘We walk down a path in the root of a great tree. We teach them to make homes for us. Often we sleep in the branches but we make roads under the ground as you see.’
From Ch11 The Thane of Cair Neren
Tom protested that his voice was not fit for such a place as this.
Susannah disagreed.
‘None of that Tom, your songs from the Southern End would be welcome here. Give us a song?’
Tom got reluctantly to his feet and was ushered to the front of the hall.
‘This is an old fisherman’s song, from Greyton. It reminds me of home and of my wife.’
Tom’s voice was soft at first. Every face in the hall was turned toward him. But he soon forgot about all the people and thought about the first time he had sung the song – to Lettie. His rich tenor voice grew stronger and filled the hall.
‘The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts turn to my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.
Carry me home you rolling waves,
I’ll be at home tonight,
And all the long labors of the day,
Are worth that happy sight.
The white walls shine in the setting sun,
As we sail into the bay,
Weary hands work rope and sail,
At the end of the working day.
The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts turn to my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.
Oh love of my heart and my desire,
You make the dark world bright,
I long for the warmth of our evening fire,
As home comes into sight.
I long to hold you in my arms,
In the sunset’s golden light,
The softness of your body charms
My heart to the coming night.
The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts are for my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.’
Tom finished his song and sat down feeling a little embarrassed. It was quiet. The truth was that the song made them all think about homes and loved ones.
Susannah poured a cup of freshly brewed coffi for Tom.
‘That was beautiful Tom. You Southerners have many surprising talents.’
‘Surprising even to us,’ said Gordy.
From Ch 17 Dog Soldiers
Denquinar stood at the window of his city house looking west toward Orsimater. Great storms battled and thundered over the alps but they seemed as nothing next to the storms that raged in his own heart. He didn’t move or speak to the servants who came to remove the food he had not touched. He had hoped to save his own son from the horrors of the boy’s camps. He had arranged for a young, up and rising officer, who was indebted to him, to take the boy into a war-galley. Denquinar had hoped he would see some of the world and learn the art of a naval officer.
The news had come this morning. The galley Maratius has caught fire attacking the harbour forts at Pinitera. It was not known if any had survived but she had run aground on the shoals and burned down to the water. There was no news of his son.
Grand Marshal Sharetath entered the room led by Denquinar’s steward. He was aware of the brooding silence in the room as he came and stood beside the admiral by the window looking toward the west. After a long silence Sharetath spoke.
‘We must go to the empress.’
Denquinar nodded. A servant was ready with his cloak and sword. Denquinar waved the sword away.
‘Do not let me near Entileides with a sword this day.’
‘Be careful Denquinar, even these walls have ears. I know you speak from your grief over the boy, but Entileides would not hesitate to dispose of a grand admiral if she saw you as any kind of a threat.’ Sharetath lowered his voice to just above a whisper, ‘It is said she did not hesitate to dispose of her husband when it suited her.’
‘Today Sharetath, I would almost count it a mercy if she did.’ Denquinar looked out the opposite windows toward the palace. The city was hazy in the morning light of late autumn. His window looked over marble houses with rich gardens. The hill at the centre of the city rose up in many levels to the great square, above the square, stood the imperial palace. It was spectacularly beautiful; dazzling in the morning light. But its beauty hid a menace. The palace had a hundred stairs that surrounded it on all sides. It was built all of marble in three tiers, each smaller than the one below with wide columned porticos all around. The lowest level contained the great hall and the rooms for the court and administration of the empire. The Dowager Empress held meetings with her officials in a small hall by the northern portico.
From Ch 23 The Kinbracher
Gillian stood by her father, her sword in her hand; her quiver was empty. Her arm was bandaged from a wound by an arrow the day before. Smoke drifted by from the burning remains of oil canisters thrown by the defenders as the legionaries attacked at dusk. Taulin saw that her face was smeared with grime and blood and the pretty blond curls were matted and tangled. Taulin hated having her in this fight, but how could he gainsay her. Her life was forfeit as well if the Corrii gained the wall.
‘Every day they come again, Father; always at a different time and fight until we drive them off and they retreat to their camps. Each day some of us die and there seems to be no end to their forces.’
The Thane put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.
‘They are wearing us down before the final assault. It will not be very long I fear. They seem to be holding many of their troops in reserve and waiting for something.’ Gillian’s face was streaked with tears.
‘What has happened to your other arm father, it is hurt?’
Taulin drew her closer.
‘Just a strain; from the last one who charged me with his shoulder; before I cut of his head. It will heal with time. I will get your sister to rub in some fragrant oil; she has the gift of a healer. At worst, I will smell better.’
Gillian leant up and kissed him but did not move from his side. She pressed in close to the only parent she had left, at this time which portended the end of everything.
Nearby stood Brian, who always seemed to find a place near Gillian when she was in danger. Taulin had noticed this also and was grateful. The southerner wiped the blood of a Corrii dog soldier from his axe. Brian had become something of a swordsman in the days since they first met when he came north from his home. He had also captured a Corrii cleaver. It was an evil-looking two handed weapon that looked like a larger version of an implement a butcher might use. Brian had taken to standing behind the parapet and hacking the Corrii as they came over the top of their ladders. Four lay there now from the last attack. He was exhausted. It played on the emotions, this mindless killing.
Taulin looked over the blond head nestled against his chest and smiled at Brian, who appreciated the respect from the father of the girl of his dreams, but shyly turned aside to look to his weapons. He gathered some spent arrows and descended to the courtyard to collect more. He would give some to Gillian. He noticed that all hers were gone. It didn’t seem right. He should have been giving her a bunch of flowers gathered on the edge of the forest, not a bunch of black and green, feathered arrows. He shrugged and pulled a file from his pocket to sharpen a Corrii arrow that had been burred against the stones of the Cair.
Taulin and his daughter were still on the parapet watching the dog soldiers reassemble to march back to their camp for the night. As they stood and surveyed the field before the castle, the mast of a ship appeared around the large rocks at the head of the river. The ship that came into view was a slow heavy vessel. It was followed by another and another.
‘They are transports,’ said the Thane. ‘They bring more men and equipment. Perhaps this is what they are waiting for. It grows dark. In the morning we will see what it all means.’
There was a clatter of arms as men came up onto the battlements. They were sent by the king to relieve those on the walls so they could rest and have their hurts tended. Gillian helped her father unstrap his shield and they went down the stairs and across the courtyard to the hall to find food and water.
Brian met them at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Gillian, I gathered these arrows for you.’ He looked apologetic.
Gillian noticed his embarrassment.
‘What is the matter Brian?’
Brian flushed.
‘They are not the flowers from the forest that I would have liked to pick for you.’
He got the brightest smile in response and was left standing bewildered, in the middle of the courtyard, wondering how the minds of girls worked as Gillian and her father walked away across the courtyard to find food and remedy for their hurts. Gordy had heard the interchange and came up to Brian, who was standing; looking stunned.
‘That was well done, Brian.’
‘Apparently so, but I don’t know what I did that was right.’
Gordy clapped him on the back.
‘Come and we will see if there is any coffi. We might have to make it ourselves. These northerners don’t brew it up right.’
Gordy was also covered with dirt and bruises and limped from a bandaged wound on his leg.
‘I can’t wait to tell Jenny about this. Our own Brian - melts the heart of the Thane’s daughter by giving her a bunch of arrows - she’ll never believe it.’
© 2008 by David H. Webb
From Ch1 The Forest
Norri grabbed a branch and waited until his heart had stopped pounding. He had almost slipped! He never slipped. He looked back at the dewy branch and then down. He could only just see the giant ferns that covered the forest floor.
He was high in the canopy of the orkya tree. He made his living selling the large nuts to merchants and by roasting them at the village tavern on Friday nights. He had a bag of the big, grey-green nuts hanging from a branch nearby. He untied the sack and let it fall to the ground. It took a surprisingly long time before it crashed into the ferns below. He looped his rope over a branch close to the main trunk and began his descent.
The birds were silent. That was unusual. The whole forest felt odd this afternoon: quiet, pensive; as if its usual, earthy tranquility had been disturbed. Norri shrugged off the feeling and climbed down. As he descended from the smaller boughs of the tree’s canopy the branches were thicker and less regular and there were parts where he had to lower himself down with his rope.…
The descent was slow and he couldn’t shake off the sense that something didn’t feel quite right. He kept looking around. The ferns grew thick in this part of the forest. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Something was coming through the undergrowth. He couldn’t see what it was. All he could see was the movement in the tops of the ferns which grew well over head height.
He had climbed quite low now and felt a bit exposed on a branch of the tree so he released his lanyard and dropped the rest of the way to the ground. He thought he could hide better in the ferns. Whatever it was wasn’t at all concerned about making noise. It crashed through the undergrowth and was heading his way.
It sounded like something running on all fours, but no animal that size lived in the forest. Norri thought of climbing back into the tree but now there wasn’t time. He was somewhat hidden by the ferns and he stood as still as he could.
Into a space between the ferns shambled a shaggy, dog-like creature. It was huge! It stopped and sniffed the air, turning toward him; its eyes burning, yellow embers in the late afternoon light. Norri had never seen anything like it. He wasn’t sure whether it could see him in the bracken. It hesitated and there was a long moment when he didn’t even dare to breathe. He thought he heard sounds in the distance …voices. He saw nobody; only heard a voice muffled in the verdant tangle of the forest. ‘Arch Gluck where are ‘ee?’ There was a sharp whistle. The creature turned its head in the direction of the voice; seemed to ignore it and continued on its way. He breathed again, guessing it hadn’t seen him in the fading light.
An odd thought occurred to him. He had caught a gleam in the creature’s eye after it heard the voice. Did it understand the voice and choose to ignore it? Perhaps it was just his fright and his imagination playing tricks. …
From Ch3 The Tavern
Kirin turned away from Norri, back to her work with a flick of her brown hair and thought about the day by the forest pool as she took bread and cheese to the table of obnoxious apprentices. Norri followed her with his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to his brazier, thinking about the same day.
Calls for more nuts soon drove more pleasant thoughts from Norri’s mind.
‘Hey! Nutter! How’s them orkya’s going? A man could die of hunger and thirst in this place,’ yelled Sanders the baker; then, as Kirin tried to get through the narrow gap between the tables, ‘four more tankards of ale, there’s a good lass.’
Jostin the smith’s apprentice was drunk and made a suggestive comment as Kirin turned away with a tray full of empty tankards; Mullins, the cooper’s apprentice, guffawed stupidly with a mouth full of cheese. Sanders had noticed Norri’s fleeting glance at Kirin.
‘Don’t even bother lookin’, Norri, she’s just taking pity on you. Why would she be interested in a nutter: no land, no trade, no money and no future?’ The others at the table laughed.
Norri knew he should not let the insult go unanswered but he was still numb from the stinging blow to the faint hope that momentarily enlivened his heart. It wasn’t that he cared what Sanders and the others thought. They were drunken fools. It was the truth of the jibe that stung him into silence. It wasn’t much of a living. He looked down at his shirt with a newly darned tear in the front. He had repaired it with the wrong colored thread and the repair was obvious. Once it was a good linen shirt that his father had bought for him; now it looked very poor …
From Ch 7 Secret of the Fornvelt
Now Maari was taken aback and suddenly uncertain.
‘This is not for me to say. I … I should not say;’ turning quickly, ‘come look to the fiend-men’s boats.’
She spun around and took off around a bend in the tunnel. Norri realised there was a pale light coming from small openings between large tree roots on the left side of the passage.
Maari stopped and indicated one of the windows.
‘Look!’
Norri looked out the window and saw that it was only two cubits above water. There was a river flowing past almost outside and great tree roots, like pillars, plunging from the roof into the water.
The roof of the cavern glistened with a pale iridescent green glow from patches of some sort of lichen-like growth on the ceiling and the roots. Out of the window he saw a sandy beach on the far side of the water, a waterfall and a little natural daylight coming from above.
On the beach were two small rowing boats drawn up. They were empty and there was no sign of their owners. Then in a moment of sudden terror a boat passed the window and he looked into the face of a great dog. Maari reacted quicker than his instinct to gasp. Her hand was over his mouth and her body against him to stifle the gasp or any sudden movement. He stared wide-eyed at the face in the window. He could almost smell its foul breath. The big brown eyes had an unholy light, canny, fey; as if able to search past sight and reach for his terrified mind.
As the boat slid past the window, a Corrii warrior passed by and Norri could look into the face of their enemy. The face was hard and lined with eyes that stared ahead, empty of any present thought but guiding the boat past the great root columns.
The boat passed. The hand loosened on his mouth and went apologetically limp. ‘They cannot see us – the river windows are like the tree windows. You cannot see in. But they can hear us and maybe sense us. Come, we will go to the meeting tree.’
She led him down the tunnel at a brisk pace. Norri noticed as they walked along a well worn path, that the tunnel was of living wood. Maari saw his interest.
‘We walk down a path in the root of a great tree. We teach them to make homes for us. Often we sleep in the branches but we make roads under the ground as you see.’
From Ch11 The Thane of Cair Neren
Tom protested that his voice was not fit for such a place as this.
Susannah disagreed.
‘None of that Tom, your songs from the Southern End would be welcome here. Give us a song?’
Tom got reluctantly to his feet and was ushered to the front of the hall.
‘This is an old fisherman’s song, from Greyton. It reminds me of home and of my wife.’
Tom’s voice was soft at first. Every face in the hall was turned toward him. But he soon forgot about all the people and thought about the first time he had sung the song – to Lettie. His rich tenor voice grew stronger and filled the hall.
‘The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts turn to my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.
Carry me home you rolling waves,
I’ll be at home tonight,
And all the long labors of the day,
Are worth that happy sight.
The white walls shine in the setting sun,
As we sail into the bay,
Weary hands work rope and sail,
At the end of the working day.
The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts turn to my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.
Oh love of my heart and my desire,
You make the dark world bright,
I long for the warmth of our evening fire,
As home comes into sight.
I long to hold you in my arms,
In the sunset’s golden light,
The softness of your body charms
My heart to the coming night.
The wind blows blue from the western sea,
And my thoughts are for my home,
The wind blows green from the forest lee,
And it’s you that calls me home.’
Tom finished his song and sat down feeling a little embarrassed. It was quiet. The truth was that the song made them all think about homes and loved ones.
Susannah poured a cup of freshly brewed coffi for Tom.
‘That was beautiful Tom. You Southerners have many surprising talents.’
‘Surprising even to us,’ said Gordy.
From Ch 17 Dog Soldiers
Denquinar stood at the window of his city house looking west toward Orsimater. Great storms battled and thundered over the alps but they seemed as nothing next to the storms that raged in his own heart. He didn’t move or speak to the servants who came to remove the food he had not touched. He had hoped to save his own son from the horrors of the boy’s camps. He had arranged for a young, up and rising officer, who was indebted to him, to take the boy into a war-galley. Denquinar had hoped he would see some of the world and learn the art of a naval officer.
The news had come this morning. The galley Maratius has caught fire attacking the harbour forts at Pinitera. It was not known if any had survived but she had run aground on the shoals and burned down to the water. There was no news of his son.
Grand Marshal Sharetath entered the room led by Denquinar’s steward. He was aware of the brooding silence in the room as he came and stood beside the admiral by the window looking toward the west. After a long silence Sharetath spoke.
‘We must go to the empress.’
Denquinar nodded. A servant was ready with his cloak and sword. Denquinar waved the sword away.
‘Do not let me near Entileides with a sword this day.’
‘Be careful Denquinar, even these walls have ears. I know you speak from your grief over the boy, but Entileides would not hesitate to dispose of a grand admiral if she saw you as any kind of a threat.’ Sharetath lowered his voice to just above a whisper, ‘It is said she did not hesitate to dispose of her husband when it suited her.’
‘Today Sharetath, I would almost count it a mercy if she did.’ Denquinar looked out the opposite windows toward the palace. The city was hazy in the morning light of late autumn. His window looked over marble houses with rich gardens. The hill at the centre of the city rose up in many levels to the great square, above the square, stood the imperial palace. It was spectacularly beautiful; dazzling in the morning light. But its beauty hid a menace. The palace had a hundred stairs that surrounded it on all sides. It was built all of marble in three tiers, each smaller than the one below with wide columned porticos all around. The lowest level contained the great hall and the rooms for the court and administration of the empire. The Dowager Empress held meetings with her officials in a small hall by the northern portico.
From Ch 23 The Kinbracher
Gillian stood by her father, her sword in her hand; her quiver was empty. Her arm was bandaged from a wound by an arrow the day before. Smoke drifted by from the burning remains of oil canisters thrown by the defenders as the legionaries attacked at dusk. Taulin saw that her face was smeared with grime and blood and the pretty blond curls were matted and tangled. Taulin hated having her in this fight, but how could he gainsay her. Her life was forfeit as well if the Corrii gained the wall.
‘Every day they come again, Father; always at a different time and fight until we drive them off and they retreat to their camps. Each day some of us die and there seems to be no end to their forces.’
The Thane put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.
‘They are wearing us down before the final assault. It will not be very long I fear. They seem to be holding many of their troops in reserve and waiting for something.’ Gillian’s face was streaked with tears.
‘What has happened to your other arm father, it is hurt?’
Taulin drew her closer.
‘Just a strain; from the last one who charged me with his shoulder; before I cut of his head. It will heal with time. I will get your sister to rub in some fragrant oil; she has the gift of a healer. At worst, I will smell better.’
Gillian leant up and kissed him but did not move from his side. She pressed in close to the only parent she had left, at this time which portended the end of everything.
Nearby stood Brian, who always seemed to find a place near Gillian when she was in danger. Taulin had noticed this also and was grateful. The southerner wiped the blood of a Corrii dog soldier from his axe. Brian had become something of a swordsman in the days since they first met when he came north from his home. He had also captured a Corrii cleaver. It was an evil-looking two handed weapon that looked like a larger version of an implement a butcher might use. Brian had taken to standing behind the parapet and hacking the Corrii as they came over the top of their ladders. Four lay there now from the last attack. He was exhausted. It played on the emotions, this mindless killing.
Taulin looked over the blond head nestled against his chest and smiled at Brian, who appreciated the respect from the father of the girl of his dreams, but shyly turned aside to look to his weapons. He gathered some spent arrows and descended to the courtyard to collect more. He would give some to Gillian. He noticed that all hers were gone. It didn’t seem right. He should have been giving her a bunch of flowers gathered on the edge of the forest, not a bunch of black and green, feathered arrows. He shrugged and pulled a file from his pocket to sharpen a Corrii arrow that had been burred against the stones of the Cair.
Taulin and his daughter were still on the parapet watching the dog soldiers reassemble to march back to their camp for the night. As they stood and surveyed the field before the castle, the mast of a ship appeared around the large rocks at the head of the river. The ship that came into view was a slow heavy vessel. It was followed by another and another.
‘They are transports,’ said the Thane. ‘They bring more men and equipment. Perhaps this is what they are waiting for. It grows dark. In the morning we will see what it all means.’
There was a clatter of arms as men came up onto the battlements. They were sent by the king to relieve those on the walls so they could rest and have their hurts tended. Gillian helped her father unstrap his shield and they went down the stairs and across the courtyard to the hall to find food and water.
Brian met them at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Gillian, I gathered these arrows for you.’ He looked apologetic.
Gillian noticed his embarrassment.
‘What is the matter Brian?’
Brian flushed.
‘They are not the flowers from the forest that I would have liked to pick for you.’
He got the brightest smile in response and was left standing bewildered, in the middle of the courtyard, wondering how the minds of girls worked as Gillian and her father walked away across the courtyard to find food and remedy for their hurts. Gordy had heard the interchange and came up to Brian, who was standing; looking stunned.
‘That was well done, Brian.’
‘Apparently so, but I don’t know what I did that was right.’
Gordy clapped him on the back.
‘Come and we will see if there is any coffi. We might have to make it ourselves. These northerners don’t brew it up right.’
Gordy was also covered with dirt and bruises and limped from a bandaged wound on his leg.
‘I can’t wait to tell Jenny about this. Our own Brian - melts the heart of the Thane’s daughter by giving her a bunch of arrows - she’ll never believe it.’
© 2008 by David H. Webb
Chapters 17 and 23 have situations and characters that I wanted to know about.