The ownership of Sim had not occurred to me as being an obstacle. I had spent almost every day with the animal since starting at the Garden. It was tempting to just carry on with my planned demonstration, but my young conscience disallowed that and I made a point of going to see Master Styg later in the day. He was amused at the idea of my asking to borrow the animal and explained that Sim didn’t actually belong to him, the onus had been quite the opposite in fact and the dog had chosen him. So if the big dog was happy with the arrangement, then so be it.
Sim’s contentedness was very apparent, we practised his searching abilities at every opportunity and most nights he arrived at our house and slept curled beside me on my couch. A welcome warmth during the chillier nights.
One afternoon, while I was hoeing, Edmund came into the garden with the news I was waiting for.
‘I’ve to leave later this afternoon for Osric’s camp.’ he swept the dust of travelling from his jerkin. ‘The men have passed their final proving tests and are ready to show their worth on our northern borders.’
I’ll need to see old Styg, and I suppose I should request permission from the Abbot.’ I said.
Now that the moment had arrived I was becoming nervous and doubtful of my skill.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of sending a message to the Abbot, informing him that you are required for military duties with the Fyrd and will not be available for the rest of today and tomorrow.’ said Edmund, with a grin. ‘So look sharp, I want to speak with you before we leave.’
It was the work of only moments to find my friend the gardener and tell him my news. He wished us well and gave me a small parcel of food for Sim. Back at the cottage I met Edmund, who had been impatiently waiting for my return.
‘We don’t have too much time to spare, but before we go I want you to take these.’
From a box he lifted out a set of new clothes, a studded leather jerkin, heavy linen shirt and a pair of fine woollen breeches.
‘Get yourself scrubbed and then get into these. The rags that you’re wearing hardly manage to fit around you anymore, but they’ll still do for your gardening work.’
I felt like a King’s ransom. The new clothes fitted just right and I felt very self-conscious. But the big surprise was when a broad belt was put diagonally across my shoulders with a bright, beautifully made sword snugly held in a polished leather scabbard.
‘The finishing touch. You have studied well and it is time to let the Single Stick and practice swords fall to retirement.’ said Edmund adjusting the buckle, his voice croaking slightly. ‘It’s called Wolfbane after your family crest, use it well. It was sent by your father, he’d hoped to be here to give it to you himself but the damned Raiders seem to be building their forces and he has to stay to try to observe their movements.’
I drew the polished length of razor sharp steel from its sheath. The balance was remarkable and the craftsmanship spectacular. The grip was fashioned from bone and the guard was made from twisted pieces of steel bar which fitted into a wide, sculpted hilt at one end and into a brilliant, jewel studded golden pommel at the other.
I was speechless for the instant. ‘I must send a note of my thanks to my lord Odda.’
‘Aye and your maman, for she provided the new clothing that will cover your back and at least give the appearance of your rank.’
I nodded. I had been very remiss lately in not sending word of my welfare or experiences, I made a resolution to make time very soon to sit down and write them a journal of my recent adventures.
‘What of Deaks this evening?’ I asked, suddenly remembering our normal routines.
‘The Abbot acknowledged my message about you and said that he would retain the ugly buffoon for the period of time that he had allotted to our training.’ Edmund smiled. ‘Well...he didn’t use quite those words.’
I tied the new long leash around Sim’s strong neck and we left our quarters. Quickly we made our way down to the new barrack buildings that had been built onto part of the settlement’s old walls and, as we arrived, the group of men hastily tidied themselves, scrambled into a line and stood at the plunging heads of their big horses. Edmund strode past them to where a stable lad held the heads of our two beasts, he nodded to his Company Leader and we all mounted our heavily built war-horses then, at a brisk trot, we set out into the surrounding country. Harnesses jingled and the huge, iron shod hooves kicked a fine dust into the dry air behind us.
It was wonderful to feel the freedom of the wide open spaces again and to soak in the smells of the beech-wood forest. Boys from the village herded their pigs out of our way as we swept along the track towards the forested slopes of the upper Polden hills and the shores of the Severn Sea. It would be grand to breathe the freshness of the sea air again I thought.
I rode beside Edmund, at the head of our little column of impressive looking soldiers with Sim loping easily along at my side. Surely, with our country defended by men such as these, we would soon be invincible.
A year ago, the King had studied the lack of organisation and poor morale among the country’s soldiers and armies. He had consulted with many experienced people and had devised a new, modified system of the ancient Fyrd method of enlistment. Each township or settlement would still be duty bound to provide a set number of healthy, fit men. But these men would be separated into two divisions, each would train and serve the country separately and for only one half of the year. Except of course when there were emergencies or campaigns under way, when they would all, and more besides, be brought together.
My guardian had done a remarkable job in transforming this first company group from reluctant farm boys into proud and capable mounted warriors. They were well armed with the long spear, heavy broadsword and thick, hide covered wooden shields. With their shining helmets and scarlet shirts they were a splendid, inspiring sight and were the forerunners of a new breed and system of national defence. Their war horses were protected by heavy leather skirts and breastplates which enhanced their bulky, powerful appearance making them look like giants.
Already the Court’s gleemen and minstrels were singing songs and telling wonderfully invented stories describing the sober and heroic deeds of our new army of valiant warriors. I’d heard it said that King Alfred himself had offered a reward to any minstrel who would cross the Severn Sea and sing them to Guthrum the leader of the heathen Viking hordes in the west. It was of course all excellent misinformation to sow the weeds of doubt into the minds of the normally drunken, but vicious raiders.
I gazed around at the dome of blue sky, the weather suited my purposes admirably, the sky was clear and, just rising above the far eastern horizon, was the feint disc of an almost full moon. Tonight, when the sun finally slid into the protection of mother Earth we would have a typically clear, early autumn night flooded by the moon’s cool silvery light.
The first hint of our approach upon Osric’s outpost camp was the subtle scent of wood smoke from the evening cooking fires. It had been a long day and my stomach rumbled with the thought of a hot supper of stew and new bread. But I thought that I would probably be too nervous to eat. I glanced down at Sim who was still loping along happily, his long tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. He was a good and willing dog, I hoped he’d not be too tired by the time we arrived at the outpost. After all, he’d had as long a day as all of us.
The handover of the horsemen to Osric’s command was a formal affair with an inspection and welcoming address by the Unit’s new Commander.
Everyone, in one way or another, was interested in the camp’s new additions. The old school of barbarian spearmen were sneeringly derogatory of the “Pretty clothes” and “Clumsy, heavy horses”.
‘What good would they be against a Viking shieldwall.’ they grumbled.
The shieldwall was the favoured way of arranging two opposing armies on the battlefield. Each of the conflicting front ranks held their heavy shields before them so that they interlocked forming as near an impenetrable wall as possible. Then the two sides would rush forward to close on each other until the shieldwalls met with a crash like thunder. Those immediately behind each wall would then use their spears and long-swords to attack the enemy beyond their own shield line.
I had studied these tactics, and various permutations, from my reading of journals written by our greatest generals. Being a young, perhaps naïve fresh mind, I could see the possible devastating effect that these mounted troops would have if they made a directed and disciplined attack upon a weak or weakened area. In a simple vee or wedge formation, they could drive holes through a wall, just as wedges are used to crack stone blocks. The regular foot soldiers could then pour through the gaps and divide the enemy into pockets of rabble which could quickly become a rout.
As well as the sneers of the old regime, our men attracted some blatant looks of admiration from the quarters of the camp followers. These hardy women were renowned in most camps as having more control over the men than the captains and generals ever could. If they were on the side of our new-style young men, then they’d not have too much trouble in the barracks. It had been decided to keep the new company separate from the older army sections, and to house them in a tented dormitory near to the thatched, timber houses of Osric and his growing retinue. Edmund saw to each detail of his men’s welfare and the stabling and feeding of their mounts, I’d often had a suspicion that there was a latent, paternal side to my guardian’s character, and here was confirmation.
When they were quite settled and sentries posted, we went through to the commander’s hall, where we were served with a fine supper. I have to confess that, although the cooking was first rate, my nervousness ensured that Sim, who refused to leave my side, was very well fed that evening. It was growing dark and was well after sundown when the Aelderman called for us. A young and rather foppishly dressed messenger came to collect us, I secured the dozing Sim to my heavy chair with his leash, and the spotty youth guided Edmund and me through the throng of the army’s entourage directly to Osric. I was uncomfortably aware of the stiff silence that surrounded our small group, those closest were openly staring at us. I was very glad to have had my new clothes and found it surprisingly easy to stand tall and without any apparent embarrassment. Osric was dressed in pretty much the way I remembered him, including the finely made, pale cloak. Around him, the folk looked as though they would be better suited to a dinner party at a Royal Court. Most of them seemed discomforted by the proximity of the honest soil and, as I learnt later, unsure whether to associate themselves with the radical developments of our new army, and by that token, with Edmund and to a lesser degree myself.
‘Welcome to you both, Edmund and Ranulf son of Odda. It’s a fine body of men that you have brought me. I look forward to learning from you the new tactics with which I must deploy them.’ The onlookers buzzed like excited honey bees. Osric had openly declared himself in favour of the modern, tradition-breaking, style of warfare.
‘Thank you sir.’ answered Edmund confidently. ‘I will be pleased to provide any assistance that I can.’
‘Good.’ smiled Osric. ‘We’ll start first thing in the morning.’
The great man turned to me next and my heart rose into my throat and fluttered like a trapped moth.
‘And how are you my young fellow.’ he patted my left arm. ‘Healed well by the look of things.’
I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks. My dry tongue stuck and clattered like a croaking frog,
‘Very much better, thank you sir.’ I managed, conscious of the new silence that surrounded us.
‘I understand that you requested to see me ?’ he looked around at the ear-strained intentness of the nearby vacant expressions. ‘Maybe you would prefer to talk as we walk down to my quarters.’
Osric turned away and many of the audience made to follow. ‘Edmund, my good fellow, come with us if you would.’ he said, then with a trace of annoyance, he waved his hand to the court acolytes. ‘Leave us.’
We moved to accompany the Aelderman when, without warning, the door before us was opened with a crash, accompanied by shouts of alarm and the drawing of swords.
Oh horrors. My embarrassment was complete. The root cause of the cacophony, with heavy dining chair in tow, erupted through the rough doorway to throw its hairy self upon me and attempt to smother me with a frantic licking. Sim, it would appear, had grown tired of waiting.
Behind me I could hear the nervous giggles from the assembly.
‘What’s the meaning of this.’ said Osric, the anger in his tone betrayed somewhat by his poorly suppressed smile.
‘This, wretched beast, is what prompted me to ask for a moment of your time sir.’ I spluttered trying to shove the animal down and get a grip on his leash.
Edmund untied Sim’s leash from the chair and took firm control of the dog, holding him on a tight lead to follow behind Osric and myself.
We continued on our way, out into the silvered chill of the night.
‘Well young man, I would suggest that you get on with it. Say what you have come to say and let me get to my bed.’
Unwittingly I had offended the dignity of this famous man and would now, I thought, be wasting my time, but I’d still got to try .
‘Well sir, he has really just demonstrated what I’d come to show you. His name is Sim and he has a very, very sensitive sense of smell. Through games, I have taught him to use his skill when I ask him.’ I turned to look at the dog. ‘I suppose he got impatient and just came to find me.’ I looked up at the tall figure in the pale cloak and added. ‘I’m very sorry sir. For both of us.’
‘Very well. But I can’t believe that that’s all. You surely don’t imagine that I may be interested, or have the time, to play with a performing dog.’
‘Indeed not sir.’ I answered quickly. ‘It occurred to me that his particularly strong capability to seek an object, human or otherwise, could be of some assistance to you in tracking down the gangs of thieving poachers in the King’s forest.’
We walked along quietly for several moments. I held my breath and hoped.
‘A patrol will be going out a little later tonight, they should be preparing right now, if I decided to send you along to try your theory, what would you need?’
I swallowed hard. ‘Just a fresh starting point sir, and if possible, an object belonging to one of the quarry.’
‘Mmm...’ Came the thoughtful answer. And we walked on some more, the paces had become slower and less determined. Eventually they stopped and Osric turned towards me.
‘You may show me. Make yourself ready, we leave soon.’ he said, turning. ‘Edmund, I would like you to come with us also, perhaps we can discuss your new warriors and how they may be best used.’
‘I should be honoured sir. I assume it is a foot patrol?’ asked Edmund.
‘Yes.’ Osric nodded, stepping away in the direction of his quarters.
‘In that case we are both ready now sir.’
I felt so relieved that I nearly cheered aloud, instead I stood staring after the Aelderman wearing a foolish grin.
Edmund and I made our way to the camp entrance stopping at the stables on our way to give orders for our horses to be bedded down for the night and to be given a supper of warm mash. Within moments the patrol arrived and, hard on their heels, Osric.
The Patrol leader told their commander where they had intended to go and in turn Osric briefed him on the changes to tonight’s normal procedures that would include my performance. While they talked, Edmund and I were given a pile of rags and, copying the patrol members, tied pads around our boots to muffle our steps and wrapped our swords to silence their rattle.
Unerringly the patrol made its quiet way to where a small clearing had been made amongst some dense bramble and gorse bushes at the foot of a rocky outcrop. Against the base of the cliff-like rocks were the remains of a still warm camp fire.
‘They’ve been here up until very recently. They normally post a lookout sentry on the rocks above, we’ve seen him but’ve never managed to get close quickly enough to catch them.’ whispered the leader looking up at the silvered rocks which towered above us.
I pulled the looped end of a cord free from a crevice in the rocky wall, its other end disappeared into the pale gloom of moonlit rock above.
‘Seems that this is how the sentry communicates with his charges.’ I said quietly, holding the cord for all to see.
‘Search the area carefully and see if they have left anything behind of a personal nature.’ said Osric.
It took some while before anything of use was discovered, and that only amounted to a scrap of coarse linen that had been torn free by the vicious bramble thorns. Evidently they had left in a rush. Carefully I made sure that Sim’s leash was firmly attached to the collar that Edmund had made for him then I stood him at the entrance to the hidden place. Motioning everyone to move to one side, I prayed to every god I’d ever heard of and loosely held the scrap of cloth to the big soft muzzle.
For a thudding heartbeat or two he did absolutely nothing, then with a little whimpering bark, he began to dash about, zigzagging across the ground until, finding what he was looking for, he trotted off with his nose fixed a hairsbreadth from the ground. I was firmly in tow.
We trotted along comfortably for a long way, over ridges and through dense woodland, everyone trying hard to be as quiet as they could. Several times along the way Sim stopped and snuffled in wide circles, then without hesitation, he would choose one route from several trails and we’d be off once again, sometimes quickly, then other times at a more relaxed rate. But always in a mainly northerly direction.
A sheepish looking Eric, the expert bowman, puffed a little as he caught me up,
‘Is the arm alright?’ He inquired in little more than a whisper.
‘Aye. Thanks, it’s fine now.’
‘I hope your dog knows what he’s at. We’ll be at the sea soon.’ he sniffed. ‘You can smell it.’
‘I hope so too. It’s a long walk home if we’re empty handed.’ I answered, adding. ‘He seems to be sure enough, and he’s never played me false before. I just hope that the scrap of clothing we used, actually belonged to one of the poaching ruffians.’
Eric pointed to a glimmer of silvery brightness through the thinning curtain of forest,
‘I guess we’ll see soon enough, that’s the shore just down there.’
Sim must have been fairly certain of being close to his quarry as his speed was beginning to increase. Edmund came swiftly beside me and used his weight to help slow the animal down.
‘I think we should stop a moment.’ panted Edmund. ‘The trail left by those up ahead is plain enough for even me to see.’ he pointed to the broken bracken and the quite distinct tracks through the long grass. ‘Besides, if we keep this pace up they’ll soon be able to hear us.’
With a careful hold on the eager dog’s leash we managed to bring him to a controlled walk and then, with the aid of old Styg’s parcel of dog food, we stopped him and kept him busily quiet.
‘What’s up.’ hissed Eric, looking furtively around.
‘We’re getting very close now. I think.’ I answered.
Quickly, Osric took in our situation and sent the patrol leader, with a pair of foot soldiers, to track along each side of the trail while the rest of us took advantage of a gasping rest and a gulp of watered wine from a leather bottle. I could feel a contagious tension mounting within the small group as they anticipated some kind of action.
Most of the men were still sneeringly sceptical of my Sim and his capable nose. Any doubts however were to be short-lived.
One of the scouting team was returning, he was running swiftly in a low crouch. As he got closer we recognised him as our patrol leader, his eyes were bright with excitement. Sim backed away from him, his ears laying back in his uncertainty.
‘They are there.’ the man gasped. ‘Just beyond these few trees and up the headland away’s.’ he almost choked for breath in his exhausted excitement. ‘And now we knows why they’re coming to the shore. Follow me, but keep low and very, very quiet.’ As an afterthought he glanced up at Osric and touched his knuckles to his forehead. ‘Beggin’ your pardon sir.’
Slowly and with as much stealth as possible we moved down the slope and out of the trees. To our left the ground steadily sloped away into the surge of the sea, while on the other side, it steepened quickly to form a short promontory of broken rocky jags that stabbed out from the land. The scramble of boulders had been left high and dry above the foaming waves now that the strong tide rested at its lowest.
‘They’re just around the corner there.’ whispered the patrol leader, pointing to the end of the promontory.
We moved on, down onto the shingle and across weed covered rocks to the seaward point of the short headland. The two other patrolmen were crouched behind some rocks, I saw the wildness in their faces as they crept back to their patrol to tell, in urgent whispers, what they had seen. Edmund still had a firm hold on Sim’s leash, luckily the talented animal seemed to have forgotten why he’d brought us here and was making no fuss. Osric climbed onto the shoulder of the rocky outcrop so that he could peer over the top, but hastily he soon returned to speak to his patrol leader.
‘Take a look young’un, and you Edmund. We’ve uncovered a nest of snakes and no doubt.’ said Osric as he passed us.
Cautiously Edmund and I peered around the rocks into a small, beautifully sheltered, sandy bay. Its rocks and shore were silvered by the lowering moon. The sea was sending ripples of surf in a sweeping curve onto the shallows. But in the centre of the bay was a ship. A small Viking longboat.