In which Drustan gets sucked into Politics and war.

The Angry Mermaid 10.

Or.
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 9

Mabina. The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin the twins grandfather.
Giana The twins grandmother
Caderyn The twins father.
Herenoie The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun. Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin. Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab The moor who taught numbers.
Eric Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton. Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia Arton’s wife.
Isobel. Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus King of the Capetani.
Shaleen Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar Lord Pedoro’s wife.

King Appotel’s party set out on the first day of the newly formed Christian week that the king, a convert to the new single God from Jerusalem had ordained be the new calendar. The party were all mounted and progress was swift. They stopped at Appotel’s palace to collect his own daughters who would have been furious to be denied the right to visit their aunt Shaleen and their cousins. Four messengers had been sent ahead and Drustan had decided to join them. King Appotel indulged him for it was no use trying to prevent the head-strong boy. Technically there were no known parents to whom Appotel could be held responsible and if the boy had survived two battles already then he was obviously capable of defending himself. Mabina also wanted to go with her twin but Queen Bramana put a stop to that with the full support of Aiofe, Mabina’s older sister.

“You may mix with the men of the shipyard’s young lady but you’ll not embarrass King Appotel when he is a royal guest to another king. You’ll behave like all the rest of the noblewomen in this party, - with decorum and grace!”
Mabina sulked and fretted but eventually found some solace in the company of Appotel’s daughters, the four princesses. Aiofe scolded her.

“You’ll only be but four days behind the heralds, what is there to fret about?”

“It’s not fair! Drustan get’s all the adventure!”

“Yes and all the wounds. What if Blueface’s sword had cut you?”

Mabina shrugged and Maria the oldest princess came to comfort her.

“Why do you wish to travel rough with your brother? His bed is poor and the nights will be tough for him. Do you not like to travel in style; to dress in fine silks and beautiful gowns?”

“Well, - yes, - of course, but I also like to travel and play. To see new places and taste new foods. Think now, my twin is already half a day ahead and sharing a night under the stars with four warriors and tasting who knows what sorts of strange foods.”

“And who knows what dangers. You are precious young lady.”

“What d’you mean precious? Precious to who? Only to my sisters and my brother. There are no others to mourn us if we pass.”

“All people are precious. The lord God tells us we are precious.”

Mabina gave a shrug. ‘This new single God thing seemed very strange to her. How could one god, and a male god at that, be everywhere at once and looking after everybody at once? Men were hopeless at looking after more than one thing at a time. Every woman knew that!’

The Princess Maria eyed Mabina suspiciously.

“Do you not believe that the one God holds us precious, do you even believe in the one God?”

Mabina shrugged again.

“My Gods and Goddesses have looked after me so far. We have crossed oceans and fought battles and we are still here.”

“So you are an unbeliever! A heathen!”

Mabina shrugged again. Careful not to cause anymore upset. She had heard bad things about this new single God. His followers tended to kill people who chose not to follow him. She shrugged one more time and excused herself saying she had to attend to something in her pack. Maria squinted suspiciously and rode down the procession to the priest. There she spoke with him.

“Holy man. My father’s guests, the three Celtic girls. They are unbelievers.”

The priest made a note to check this out and speak to the king about it. For the present though, the procession was too busy to slowdown and stop. The King had a town to make that evening and that town marked the border between the Turdetani and the Capetani. His kingdom and King Pilus’s. When they finally reached the border town of Rodondo, the heralds had done their job. The town spanned a river marking the border and a single high bridge with fortified gateways marked the lowest safe crossing point. Below this town, crossings had to be made by ferry. Appotel cast a professional eye over the
fortifications. There were a few improvements that could be made but any sort of such repairs might invoke suspicion in King Pilus despite the fact they were married to sisters and currently enjoying an excellent peace. Appotel decided to pass over the bridge and overnight in King Pilus’s half of the town. This was to be a gesture of trust and good will and the town’s burgomasters welcomed him across the bridge. They made their lodgings in the towns meeting hall for the building had the best accommodations and it demonstrated that King Appotel trusted King Pilus’s peace.

The local chief came from his modest castle and met the king to extend the normal courtesies.

“Our Lord Pilus welcomes you your majesty and particularly his sister-in-law Queen Bramana.”

“Thank you Pedoro. Will you eat with us tonight?”

“Why yes sir. It will be an honour. I will bring extra victuals from my castle.”

The king nodded approvingly and Pedoro left to return quickly with several pack-loads of food plus his wife and his family; some four sons and a single daughter. The royal princesses quickly perked up at the news of young noble-men attending that evening’s meal. Mabina was too concerned with the whereabouts of Drustan to care and Aiofe was already betrothed and therefore out of the running. Pedoro hoped that the king might notice his sons and perhaps a fortuitous union might come of the meeting in the great hall.

On that same evening, Drustan and the four heralds arrived at King Pilus’s palace. They were shown to suitable quarters but the King’s newly appointed chancellor simply took the one letter of introduction and left the five of them to kick their heels overnight. It was to be the following morning before the heralds were to be presented to the king. Even at the brief preliminary interview Drustan could tell that King Pilus seemed preoccupied with something. The senior herald was invited to an inner sanctum whilst once again; the others had to wait outside in an antechamber fretting at the unexpected lack of a welcome.

“He’s not normally this uncharitable.” The second herald declared. “He and our king Appotel are bloody brothers in law for God’s sake! Their wives are sisters. Their marriages were supposed to seal the alliance.”

“I don’t like it here. The courtiers seem to be avoiding us. They were always friendly before.”

The remaining three heralds were now suspicious and they subconsciously gathered together to sit at a table with their backs to the wall and facing outwards. It was several minutes before they missed Drustan.

“Damn it! Where’s that bloody boy got to now.”

“He was here a minute ago. Which way did he go?”

“Blast! There must be half a dozen doors he could have gone through. Why doesn’t the bloody boy behave himself? I sense danger here!”

It was at this moment that a score of soldiers suddenly emerged from behind several curtains and wall drapes then fell upon the heralds. The nervous heralds made a ferocious fight of it but they were eventually overwhelmed. All three men were put to the sword. Eventually the chief herald was returned to the ante-chamber in chains where he was made to sit beside his murdered comrades. He cursed furiously.

“There was no need to murder them! What manner of treachery is this? What sort of a welcome is this?”

An unidentified voice with a North African accent replied.

“A suitable one for an enemy.”

“And who is this enemy. Kings Appotel and Pilus have been friends and allies since their alliance was forged with the marriage of the sisters.”

“King Pilus does not reign here anymore!”

The herald fell silent. There had obviously been some sort of Palace coup.

“So who does?” The herald demanded but his demand went unanswered.

Instead he was manhandled roughly away and lowered down a well into a black windowless subterranean cell that was carved out of the solid rock the castle stood on. As he cautiously felt into the dark his hands landed on another soul. A boy responded.

“Who are you?”

“I am Maguel, the chief herald of Appotel, King of the Turdetani.”

“Oh thank God! Does he come with an army?”

The herald knew enough not reveal any more information. He had no idea who was also listening in the pitch blackness.

“Who am I talking to?”

“Prince Pinipe, my father is Pilus the king.”

“Who else is in this cell?”

My mother, Queen Shaleen and my four sisters, the princesses.”

“Oh. Wherever you are your majesty, for I cannot see you, I pay my respects to you. What has happened?”

“There was a coup yesterday before dawn. We were taken in our beds.”

“Who organised it?”

“We don’t know.”

The chief herald sighed disgustedly. For a whole palace to have been taken without signs of a struggle there must have been considerable internal intrigue.

He remembered the Berber soldiers who had slain his comrades and the North African accent of the Berber man who had answered his question but that told him little except to confirm that outside agencies must have been at large and also infiltrated the palace. Not everybody on the Palace staff would have been disloyal. Maguel remembered the last visits of Appotel and his queen as happy occasions where the palace staff had been utterly loyal and devoted to King Pilus while the sister queens had savoured excellent companionship. Some other ploy had been used to take the palace but the bigger question exercised Maguel’s nimble mind.

That was; ‘how had the Berbers infiltrated right into central Iberia’?

He cast about for ideas and asked the family many questions but found little if any useful information from his royal cellmates.
So far he had realised that the palace had been taken by subterfuge and that the royal family were being held hostage, probably by only a few Berber soldiers but that would be all that it took. Maguel realised that there could not be many men at arms involved for no reports of any large force had been received by his own tribesmen or Turdetani and the Capetani townships he had galloped through. The Palace must have been taken by a supreme subterfuge. The way to take it back was by a more skilful and cunning subterfuge. The problem was how? He could not even escape from the pitch black hole he was stuck in!

Appotel’s herald and King Pilus’s family remained incarcerated in the pitch black cell.

At the same time Drustan, ever the distrustful one, had slinked away from the three other heralds and left the ante-chamber on the pretext of lavatorial needs. His confounded stomach gripes had returned and the cramp was almost incapacitating. Also the dammed wound made by Blue Face’s sword had begun to weep again. I was becoming a damned nuisance. He found a piece of reasonably clean cloth and stuffed it into the accursed wound to stem the flow.

When he had separated from the other heralds he had not been much missed. As an apparently harmless fourteen-year-old boy little attention was paid to him. He was alone in an external corridor returning to the antechamber when he heard the soldiers attack the three seated heralds.

Drustan was not stupid. He had realised all was not right when they had first been presented to the uneasy King Pilus.
From that first moment he had been on guard and the lavatory ploy had been a useful subterfuge to split away from the main threesome to force any searchers to divide their forces. It had worked for he had heard the fight in the antechamber and Maguel’s angry curse about the un-necessary murders. He had just managed to grab a lamp bracket, dowse the flame then haul himself up into the ceiling shadows as he watched Maguel being dragged blindfolded below him. He quickly realised that something was seriously wrong for when the Turdetani party had set out; King Appotel had not shown the slightest sign of any enmity between the kingdoms. Drustan immediately realised that if they were not welcome at the castle then he must warn King Appotel at all costs.

His first objective was to avoid capture and to do this he had to reconnoitre the castle, then find a way out. He had immediately decided that trying to rescue anybody would be folly. The castle was totally in the hands of whoever controlled the king and Drustan had no idea of the full situation. His job first was to get out of the castle and get word to Appotel.
If there was one thing Drustan had learned when deciding upon action it was that you had to have a plan, and for that you needed to know the lay of the land. He knew nothing of the castle layout so that was his first step. It would also perhaps help him locate any potential allies; castle staff like cooks or servants who might have been overlooked or forced to serve the new occupiers of the castle. Drustan was starting from the very bottom without a shred of information.

As a veteran of two battles though not yet fifteen, Drustan knew the odds of success were almost zero. He decided that as soon as he had enough information, he would escape the castle if he could. His most urgent task was warning King Appotel and his family.

For two days Drustan literally crawled from shadow to shadow in the gloomy bowels of the castle as he determined his options for escape. He went almost naked with only a longish dagger tucked tightly into his loincloth that carried the stains of the weeping wound in his crotch. To move around with swords, boots and all the accoutrements of combat would only make more noise and invite investigation. He saw servants being mistreated and beaten but had no chance of speaking to them.

He concluded though, that they would be potential helpers if push came to shove. He noted though that all the servants were women. The occupiers were taking no risks of any countermove so all men must have been removed. To this end, Drustan fashioned a false top in the style of a young girl to effect a possible disguise if he was seen. To his chagrin he noticed that his chest, which had started to itch again as it seemed to do every time Blueface’s wound bled, now showed two soft swellings. He angrily bound the top-cloth tight to hide the damned flesh.

Drustan could only wonder at what brutal end the men servants might have met.

On the fourth morning Drustan concluded he knew enough. The bleeding from the ‘wound’ had more or less stopped and his chest no longer itched. However, he was desperately hungry and there was no food to be found anywhere.
He now knew that the occupiers were of Berber Corsair origin though Drustan could only conjecture at how they had got so far into Iberia without detection. The Capetani royal family were alive in a subterranean dungeon and King Pilus was a puppet with his hands tied because his family was hostage. What worried Drustan was the situation outside the castle. Why had the Capetani townsfolk not come searching to discover why the castle and surrounding palace was closed to visitors? He had no answers to this but he resolved that night to escape. His escape opportunity came earlier than expected.

Deep in the bowels of the bedrock Drustan had located a narrow fissure in the laminated geology of the rock. He had been sneaking down to investigate the well as a way of escape when some soldiers had approached from behind. His natural response was to climb up to the ceiling and high up in the shadows he had found a shelf that was impossible to see from the floor of the passage. The passage had been hewn out of the bare rock and led down to a cave where the dungeons and well were located. As he scrambled bare-foot up onto a high ledge to avoid the soldiers he landed up on the tiny ledge and slipped down the back of it into a deep cleft. In the cleft he noticed a black void where the rock should have formed a sold barrier. He also noticed a warm draught of air wafting up.

A draught of air meant movement and that meant it must be coming from somewhere. The fact that it was warm meant it was coming from outside. The sun was still high for it was afternoon outside and the day still hot. This told Drustan that the air was from the outside. Where air came in, it might yet be possible for a youth to get out. Drustan immediately slithered forward on his bare belly. He was grateful that his belly had stopped cramping and his Blue-Face crotch wound had stopped weeping. It seemed to be coming a regular nuisance.

The fissure in the rock became narrower and after two bends, it swiftly became pitch black. The only indicators that Drustan had were the soft earth under his chest and belly and the warm draught of air. This became his only guide and he continued slithering forward until the fissure became too low.

“Damn!” He cursed to himself as he groped blindly but found the hole just too small.

Then he discovered that the floor was still earth and he squirmed backwards to make enough room to reach into his filthy loin cloth for his last remaining weapon, the dagger.

Wriggling forward again he started to stab at the compacted earth and quickly realised that the floor was just earth. Obviously when it rained, the soil had been washed down into this sump in the fissure and gathered there. This had perhaps been going on since before the castle was built. Whatever the cause, Drustan was ecstatic to learn that he could dig the compacted earth away. It took a lot of wriggling and squirming to drag the loose earth backwards to a wider part of the fissure but eventually he deepened the sump so that he could go forward again. He encountered no more sumps and he continued wriggling forward occasionally having to stop and rest after having squeezed through some particularly tight gaps. At once stage he became frightened as the fissure narrowed to frightening proportions but at the next bend he was relieved to encounter a small chamber where he could turn and even stand in a bent posture. ‘At least he had one escape point where he could turn around and go back!’ he concluded as he sat up and leaned against the cold rock whilst he recovered his breath and his composure. He sat for a while in total silent darkness as he rubbed his sore chest. The scratches from the rock seemed particularly painful on his sensitive chest and nipples. He rubbed them and cursed then he stopped as he thought he heard voices. He froze in fear for he had no idea where he was in relation to the castle’s structure as it sat on the solid rock massif. He knew he had originally gone downwards along the fissure and after the sump he had been forced to excavate, he had gone upwards progressively. However, he had no idea what overall direction he had gone for the fissure wasn’t a regular cleft in the rock strata and it had twisted and turned. If he emerged into daylight he would have not the slightest idea where he would be.

He stayed absolutely silent hardly daring to breath and then he heard the voices again but he had no idea from where they were coming. In the total darkness the chamber seemed to echo very slightly and this confused him. The voices seemed to whisper eerily around the space. Drustan could only creep around in total silence as he tried to locate the exact source.
The total darkness did not help at all and he bumped his head on several sharp protrusions as he lost patience and moved too quickly. Eventually he found the source to be a small hole in the floor of the chamber that seemed unusually smooth.

Cautiously he slipped his arm into the crevice and realised that the hole was smooth because any water gathering in the chamber had drained away to wherever the hole led. Satisfied with his find he lay still again waiting for the words to come filtering up the hole again. Eventually he heard some whispering but could not make out the words. This frustrated him because he was frightened to reveal himself to anybody for he could not tell if the voices belonged to friend or foe.

Defeated by the uncertainty he cursed his stupidity for not having somehow identified his entrance hole and he groped uncertainly as he tried to remember it’s shape from memory. The air turbulence in the chamber did not help until he finally located the fissure where the air entered though it now seemed slightly cooler. This had to be the route to the outside. He secured his precious dagger back in his dirt encrusted loin cloth and resumed squirming forward flat on his belly. Eventually he saw a tiny pinprick of light and his stomach gave a huge flip as relief surged through his whole being. Then the fissure widened and Drustan saw more pinpricks of light. He was shocked to realise they were the stars. He had been in the fissure for hours! He advanced cautiously until he realised he was in a cave high up the rocky massif. There was no way he could clamber down to the ground for the rock was smooth and the moonless night was little better than the pitch blackness of the tunnel. He would have to wait until daylight.

He sat for a while and started to shiver so he retreated back into the fissure that emerged at the back of the cave. Then hunger pangs and thirst overtook him again for he hadn’t eaten all the time he had been exploring the castle. The only source of food was back at the other end of the fissure inside the bowels of the castle so he decided to return and try to steal some food from the kitchens. He knew the risks but he hadn’t eaten properly for four days. A few meagre scraps recovered early on from a rubbish pile and what water he had found had been foul. His stomach was beginning to rebel and the hunger was gnawing at his entrails.

He had no idea of the time and he wished he had copied his sister Mabina’s interest in navigation. He might have garnished the time from the positions of the stars like she often did as she carried a constant mental map of the changing heavens in her head. Shrugging off his ignorance, he concluded if it was dark, he should be able to steal some food from somewhere. The cooks were asleep at night and the kitchens unmanned.

Girding his loins and securing his precious dagger, he returned to the fissure and squirmed back to the ‘half-way’ chamber. This time he gathered three stones and arranged them at the fissure’s location to identify the place more easily. Now that the night had cooled the air there was no draught to identify it. Having ensured his orientation he sat back to take a breather.

To his surprise and delight, the owners of the voices were now talking instead of whispering so Drustan listened at the hole. He immediately recognised Maguel the senior herald’s voice so he listened intently. He may not yet be able to help the people at the other end of the hole but at least he could garnish some information from their conversation. He knew that other people were being held prisoner for Maguel was discussing the situation with the other prisoners whom Drustan could not recognise until Maguel referred to a woman as ‘Your majesty’.

‘Shit!’ thought Drustan, ‘that must be the queen, - Queen Shaleen, Bramana’s sister! What the hell has happened?’ he wondered. ‘There must have been a coup!’

Having garnished enough information he stayed silent for he had no idea who else was in the dungeon, he resumed squirming back along the fissure until he finally emerged in the cleft above the passage leading down to the dungeons.
The castle was asleep and he soon found his way to the kitchens where a tiny night-light cast it’s feeble glow. Sadly there was no food left out and the larders were locked. The small nightlight enabled him to locate several more spare lamps in a store room and these were the first prizes that he squirreled back to the high, hidden cleft. Then he found a spare length of spit turning chain from the dog wheel that rotated the cooking spit and he took that. He also searched for paper to write a message to Maguel but he only found a piece of white cotton flour sack. Then he was overjoyed to locate a box of flint and tinder. He would be able to supply the prisoners with light by lowering a lamp down through the drain hole into the cell, provided the hole was wide enough for its whole length. Drustan was already alert to holes getting narrower. He was now getting severe hunger cramps but he was still stymied for food. The larders were locked and heavily bolted.

A noise outside the kitchens alerted him to danger. One of the servants was coming to light the kitchen fires before dawn had even shown a whisper of light. The light footfall suggested the visitor was female. Drustan melted back into the shadows alert to danger for if he could, he would talk to a kitchen maid. The girl entered and started lighting the lamps then she started laying the kindling. Drustan waited silently before making a move. The girl was sniffling and as he looked closer he noticed she had a huge bruise under her eye. Obviously the girl had been forced to do something she had not wanted to do and that meant he might just have found an ally. As she lit the kindling the flames illuminated her face and Drustan realised the extent of her injuries. The girl, for only a girl she was, had been brutally beaten.

Drustan restrained his anger. Though still very young, Drustan had seen plenty of violence in these last few summers what with battles and massacres. He was inured to women carrying injuries. Instead he stepped out from the shadows and wrapped his arm around her as he covered her mouth with his other filthy mud-stained hand. The girl was already too traumatised to react and she just fell slack in his arms. Drustan realised she was at the end of her tether what with beatings and only the god’s knew what else. He spoke softly.

“Don’t scream. I’m not here to harm you. When does the castle rise?”

The girl whimpered so Drustan slackened his grip on her mouth ready to slam it back if the girl drew breath to scream. Instead she gasped fearfully.”

“At the next hour, I’m down here to raise the fires. Who are you?”

“I know what you’re here for girl. I’ll ask the questions. Be brief with your answers. I need all the information I can get. I’m your friend but I can’t do much for you yet!”

“Who are you?” The girl asked again.

“Never mind my name what is yours?” Drustan menaced her with his dagger.

“I am Taan mistress; Taan the scullery maid.

Drustan cursed her.

“Damn you girl. I’m a boy! Can’t you see that?”

The girl gasped with fear that her mistake would cause more blows to rain down on her head.

“I, - I’m sorry, - I’m sorry sire, but in this light and with that top I, - I took you for a woman. I’m sorry! I’m sorry Sire.

In truth there was more reason for the scullery maid to have made such a mistake for as Drustan had dragged her hard against his chest she had felt the soft swellings against her neck. She had genuinely thought a maid had captured her. She whimpered nervously as she waited for another brutal blow to fall. Drustan saw her terror and sighed as he released her.

“I’m not going to harm you girl but your mistake annoyed me. I am your friend.”

“Then who are you sire?”

“It matters not but I need information.”

“Then I shall try to tell you sire.”

“Good the less you know of me the safer you are. I’ve left a bit of a mess here when I searched for food. I was starving. Clean it up to hide any evidence of my having been here. I will be back. How many soldiers hold the castle?

“We have to cook for thirty, the servants and the prisoners feed off the left-over’s.”

“Excellent information. How much food is left?”

“About a month of none perishable supplies. We have not had fresh meat for nearly six days the meat is going rancid in this summer heat. Sadly the larder is locked and the cook holds the keys.”

“Yes, I’ve already worked that out. That is excellent information. You’re brilliant girl! What of the water?”

“Don’t you know anything of this castle? It is impregnable; there is an endless supply of clean water from the well deep down in the rock It’s in the dungeon chambers.”

Drustan simply nodded. ‘If the servants didn’t know of the fissure then perhaps only the royal family did.’ He even doubted that they knew because the passage was too small for a full grown man. King Pilus was a large man and he would never have made it.
Another noise in the passage alerted the girl and she squeaked.

“That’s the bastard who did this to me. If you can, kill him.”

“Not yet girl. I have not enough resources or the strength for I am but a boy. This is going to take subterfuge and cunning. Now say nothing if he comes in here.”

He gave the girl a gentle kiss on the forehead, released her and slipped back into the shadows. The girl smiled gratefully then her smile slipped as the soldier entered the kitchen. Drustan watched as he swaggered up to her and grabbed her forcefully as he groped under her meagre gown. The girl didn’t even have a breech cloth to hide her modesty. This was too much for Drustan to countenance. He slipped his dagger out of his filthy loin cloth and crept up behind the pre-occupied brute. It was but one stab in exactly the right place to send the beast to oblivion. The girl started to scream but Drustan had already anticipated that reaction. Once again, her cry was stifled before her breath had left her lungs.

“Quiet! You stupid cow. He’s dead! Where can I hide his body?”

The girl simply wagged her head for she had no idea where to hide such a large corpse. Drustan’s eyes fell upon the fire which was now building into a large blaze before settling down into the hot embers that cooks so loved for their steady heat.

“I’ll burn him.”

The girl simply stared in horror as Drustan stripped the body, took a cleaver from the kitchen table and promptly butchered the corpse. He had seen his own companions butcher many a sheep and once a cow so he had some idea of how to quarter the carcass. In twenty minutes the man’s butchered body was being despatched to the flames as the girl simply watched, mesmerized with horror. As he looked up from his grizzly task the blood covered Drustan asked the girl.

“D’you want to put any of him in the pot so that his friends can eat him as a stew? It’s good meat and it would be a fitting end.”

The horrified girl simply worked her shocked jaws silently as she tried to mouth an answer. Drustan shrugged as he wiped his blood stained naked body and resumed reducing the body to the smallest pieces he could. As he chewed hungrily on some cooked meat from the corpse, he looked up at the paralysed girl.

“What are you looking at girl? I’m starving! I haven’t eaten properly for nearly five days! If you don’t want to eat any then let those who are hungry do so. Make yourself useful girl, add more fuel to the fire, and cook these bits of meat so that I can eat them later. Now, the bigger the flames, the faster we’ll get this burning over with. Make sure you burn the skull. That’s the biggest give-away!” He finished as he lined up many small pieces of human meat by the fire to cook them then he stuffed them into a bag to tide him over in case he saw no food for another five days. Tan was both disgusted and horrified but she studied the creature’s gaunt frame and realised she could count all his ribs and backbone.

The shocked girl finally bestirred herself and collected several large faggots as Drustan stoked the fire to raise the heat. Fortunately the smell of burning flesh went mainly up the great chimney and by the dawning hour, the body was consumed by the fire. They cleaned up the mess and Taan pulled out a side of almost rancid beef from the larder and threw it onto the flames to help hide whatever evidence there was of the ghastly incident. The smell of the rancid beef starting to burn helped to cover the lingering smell of burnt soldier. Drustan, still blood smeared and clad only in his blood stained loin-cloth, looked like some demon from hell! Then he carried away the burnt soldier’s uniform and sword to hide in the high cleft that had now become his hide-away cum store. He also carried the large gruesome bag of very fresh cooked meat that Taan the scullery maid chose not to ask about.

‘Was this awful gruesome bloodied creature some sort of cannibalistic demon from hell?’ She wondered. ‘Yet it had protected her from the beastly soldier and even shown her compassion! But the demon had shown the soldier no mercy!’
Taking care to wipe his hands and feet to leave no trail Drustan returned to his hide-away and commenced pushing things along the tunnel to the ‘half-way chamber’.

With every journey his scrabbling removed more soil and slowly the fissure got deeper. Each journey got easier. Eventually the cleft above the dungeon passage was clear of all material and Drustan carefully cleaned away all evidence of his having been there. He even used the rabbit’s trick of heaping up earth in the fissure to make it appear as a blocked cul-de-sac.
As the rest of the kitchen staff came down to the kitchen, Taan the scullery maid was cleaning up the last evidence. She had also thrown several more large pieces of rancid beef onto the flames to hide the smell of the burnt corpse. She explained to Esther the cook by lying that one of the soldiers had come down and made her do it because he told her that the sergeant believed the rancid meat was poisoning them. The stink of burning, rancid beef was overwhelming.

Drustan was now back in his ‘half-way’ chamber and chewing contentedly on a nice piece of the soldier’s cooked rump. In the dark he did not care that he was also licking the soldier’s blood off his own arms. Starvation had so reduced him to a cannibalistic animal state that it would not have worried him anyway. Had anybody suddenly illuminated him they would possibly died of fright to see a blood red demon seemingly sprung from the very bowels of hell. In the pitch darkness Drustan contemplated his next move. Then he listened carefully at the drain hole. Maguel was talking again to Queen Shaleen and this time Drustan could distinctly hear their words for the air was circulating again and the sounds carried better. The foul warm air from the prisoner’s bodies was rising up the drain hole. Drustan listened as the up-draught carried the prisoner’s words.

“If we don’t get some fresh food soon I’m worried for the children.”

“I have asked the jailers several times but they ignore my pleas,” Cried Queen Shaleen. “What sort of monsters would starve children to death?”

Drustan smiled. Here he could help. He concluded only the herald and the royal family were in that particular dungeon so he took a risk. As the prisoners talked he lit one of the lamps. The tiny flame seemed like a blazing torch and dazzled him for several seconds before he could recover his composure. The talking from the hole stopped immediately as Maguel and Queen Shaleen noticed the feeble glimmer emanating from the hole in the dungeon ceiling.

“What’s that!?” She gasped as she and Maguel stood to peer up the hole.

“It’s a light of some sort.” Maguel replied. “There seems to be some sort of hole up there.”

“But where’s it coming from? Apart from the entrance slab, this dungeon is carved out of solid rock!”

“Well it’s not as solid as you would think my lady. Hisst now, something’s coming down the hole!”

“What! What is it?”

“I’m not sure my lady, it seems to be a light, but how can that be? Are you sure it’s solid rock?”

“Yes!” I know the layout of my own castle for God’s sake!”

Even as she uttered these words, events contradicted her. A tiny feeble ‘night-light’ emerged from the ceiling hole dangling on the end of a kitchen, cooking wheel chain. To the prisoners accustomed to pitch blackness, it seemed that suddenly the dungeon was bathed in brilliant light!

Being young, Prince Pinipe was the first to recover and as his eyes rapidly became accustomed to the ‘glare’. He climbed on Maguel’s shoulders then reached up to the light and tried to pull it lower. Drustan felt the tug and nearly lost his grip on the chain. He cursed whoever had tugged the line and his angry, distorted voice carried readily down the hole.

“Dammit you stupid bastard don’t pull the bloody chain out of my hands. Untie the fucking lamp!”

“Sorry!” Pinipe called back before Maguel silenced him with a desperate whisper.

“Silence you fool! Others may be listening! You’ve no idea who it is up there!”

Suitably chastened, Pinipe carefully detached the tiny lamp and set it on a cleft cut into the bare rock. He looked around grateful at last to able to see his mother and his siblings plus Maguel. Everybody except Maguel stepped forward to savour the light’s feeble but comforting glow. Maguel had heard the chain rattling back up the hole so he stood expectantly below it and he was not disappointed. A small linen bag came down and it contained some bread and cooked meat. The smell sent the children wild and they lurched forward to grab a share. Maguel indulged them and he helped Queen Shaleen divide the meagre food amongst her precious children as the chain disappeared back up the hole.

“There isn’t much is there?” She lamented.

“It’s only a small hole, wait he’s sending something else.”

“It’s more food!” Pinipe cried.

And it was. A long narrow sausage of linen appeared and the prisoners realised the first little bag had been a test. Gratefully they seized the bag and this time ate with a little more decorum. The chain disappeared again and the last article was a blood stained linen bag. The only writing materials Drustan had was his own blood and another linen sack. He had fingered some blood off his sticky ‘Blueface’ wound then written on the sack in blood with his finger.
Eagerly the prisoners read his message.

I am Drustan. Is that Maguel?

Maguel immediately had Queen Shaleen and her only son Pinipe lift him up to the hole and he whispered as loudly as he dared.

“Yes!” It’s Maguel and King Pilus’s queen and children. They are prisoners being held hostage.”

Maguel sagged with relief as Drustan’s familiar boyish voice came whispering back.

“I’m sending down more food and some flints and tapers to relight the lamp. I’m also sending down two more lamps. I only need one to find my way out of here.”

“Where are you?” Maguel begged.

“I daren’t say. The less you know the better for now. I’ll be back later.”

“With these words the promised items came rattling down the hole and Drustan left the little chamber as he crawled towards the exit cave. Finally in the dawn’s light he could assess his situation. It wasn’t perfect.

The cave was set high up in the castle’s rocky buttress and it was an impossible descent to safe ground. Drustan needed a rope but all he had was the short length of chain.

From the ground, it was impossible to discern the cave for its entrance lay offset under a massive overhang that blocked off all sight of any openings in the rock. Drustan was safe for now but to get down he would need a longish rope. That meant another return into the bowels of the castle and another day’s delay for it was too dangerous to move around by daylight. King Appotel and his party would be arriving soon and he couldn’t warn them in time.

With his heart heavy with frustration, he started back into the fissure. As he arrived at the ‘half-way’ chamber, he decided not to speak to the prisoners down the hole. He had nothing useful to impart and it would just be time wasted. As he got the measure of the fissure, each passage along it became easier; he soon arrived at the deep cleft above the dungeon passage. There he decided to forego the ‘Rabbit door’ of earth and he left the passage unblocked. The warm airflow from the hot exterior was comforting.

Cautiously he waited. The passage down to the dungeons was not a busy one but there was no need to take stupid risks. Drustan had long since located all the useful little hidey-holes where a fourteen-year-old youth could secret himself during the dark of the night but by day it was impossible to hide. He just lay recovering his breath as he decided what to do. Until the evening meal was complete there was a serious chance of meeting some unexpected challenge if he simply sauntered up the passage to the kitchens on the next level up. He desperately needed to find a rope but he had no idea where to get one. He would have to speak to the Taan, the scullery maid again; something he was loath to do for it might raise her hopes too high.

For want of anything better to do until it was dark he dragged the dead soldier’s tunic back into the fissure, found some soft earth and went to sleep. The warm draught of air was beginning to move as the day warmed up outside. The exhausted boy soon fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke in mid afternoon. A quiet period when meals were not being prepared and most of the occupying soldiers were taking their ease. The castle was deemed virtually impregnable so few guards had been posted except at the most necessary locations. Drustan decided it was safe to go looking for the scullery maid. He was not surprised to find her sleeping on a crude straw mat under the main kitchen table. It was her job to make sure the fires did not go out during the quiet of the afternoon. The girl was virtually in bondage to the kitchen and it’s fires, especially now that most of the men had been executed.
Cautiously Drustan shook her shoulder and she stirred fearfully muttering ‘Don’t hit me’ even as she came to her senses. For a moment her eyes widened with terror as she beheld the bloodied, mud-stained apparition looming over her. Drustan was about to cover her scream when recognition lit her eyes and she gasped with relief.

“It’s you again. Who are you? Where do you come from? Are you the demon from hell?”

“I’ve told you before! Don’t ask me anything. It will only endanger your life and the lives of others. Remember I’m human just like you and I can make mistakes. Just pretend I don’t exist.”

“But you do! You do exist. You killed the soldier who, - Can you take me with you? “

Her voice faltered as she recalled the brute’s crimes against her. Drustan had no time for gratitude or beseechments to take her with him.

“I need a rope. Where can I find a rope?”

The girl’s eyes widened with hope.

“If I get you a rope, take me with you.”

“Listen you stupid bitch. I have no time for games. I am one against many. I desperately need a rope. When I return; if I return; you will get your freedom, but not now. I am too weak to take the castle alone. I need a rope, for the God’s sakes girl a bloody rope. You tried to bargain your escape for a rope, so you must know of one. Tell me or I’ll kill you!”

“Will you promise to free me?” She asked ignoring his threat.

“Of course I will, I will free the whole bloody castle if I can just have a bloody rope. Where the hell is there a rope! Damn and blast you!!”

He drew his dagger and seized the girl roughly to reinforce his threat; Taan burst into hysterics as he laid the blade against her throat then she choked out the words and pointed to a closed door as he choked her windpipe and sensibility started to leave her. He released her throat and she found her voice as it came in raucous croaks.

“It’s down those steps. That’s the stairs from the Kitchen to the well. It leads to the dungeon chamber like a back stairs.
There is a spare rope for the bucket behind that door as you enter the dungeon area.” Then she passed out.

Drustan gave a grateful curse and flung the girl to the floor. He found what he was looking for, coiled the rope around his shoulders, grabbed one of the iron spit poles used to pierce the sides of beef for turning over the flames and finally snatched some more food off the table. Taan recovered her composure and rubbed her bruised throat. Drustan had not been gentle in his desperation. He turned to her as she looked at him angrily.

“Sorry if I hurt you. Need’s must sometimes. I’ll be back, don’t run away!”

Before Taan could respond, he was gone again. She staggered to the door, for in his desperation Drustan had hurt the girl’s neck. By the time she reached the corridor, the dreadful apparition was gone, vanished like the spirit he seemed to be. She felt her sore neck and frowned ruefully.

‘At least the apparition had not attacked her or beaten her; he seemed more desperate than dangerous.’

Taan decided that the apparition might yet still be on her side but it obviously had other fish to fry. For want of anything else to do, she placed some more faggots on the fire and returned to her straw palliace under the table. Drustan had returned to the safety of his secret fissure in the rock and immediately set about dragging the rope, the iron spit pole and the burnt soldier’s sword all the way to the outer cave. In the ‘half-way' chamber, he lowered some of the food down to the prisoners but did not waste time exchanging words. There was much to do and little time to do it. He found a secure anchor point for the iron bar then secured the rope and flung it over the cliff. He looked down and tensed. The thick pale flaxen rope was as visible as a flash of lightening against the dark rock. He could not let it stand out like that. Quickly he cast around and found the perfect alternative.

There was a bush half way down the cliff and the spit chain could just reach it. The dark iron chain would be almost invisible against the dark rock. Below the bush there were grassy tufts and assorted features that would serve to hide the rope. As an extra precaution he smeared the rope with more mud from the cave floor. Next, he re-secured the chain to the iron anchor bar, fixed it to the rope and carefully dangled the arrangement behind the bush.

His relief was manifested by a long sigh as he completed his plan. It now remained to clamber down the rope and find King Appotel. In the evening ‘half-light’ he descended unseen, hid the tail of the rope then scuttled away towards the town as darkness fell. The night proved to be a double edged weapon. Nobody noticed his almost naked, bloody, mud-stained satanic appearance but conversely he had trouble finding his way in the strange place and no hope of locating King Appotel. Eventually he managed to find a stream and wash himself. The freezing water both chilled him but revived him and he was finally able to approach a passing citizen.

“Where is the road to Toledo?” He begged.

The woman tensed but showed the beggar boy the direction and she sagged with relief as the boy dashed away with no more ado.
At the town gate he spoke to the city guard who was just about to close the gates for the night.

“Has King Appotel passed this way?” Drustan asked.

“What business is it of yours beggar boy?” Demanded the guard.

“Listen you fool. Your own king is in grave danger. Has King Appotel been through these gates yet?”

“Tell me who was with him and that will confirm your interest.”

Drustan cursed and reeled off the names in the king’s visiting party until the guard finally nodded.

“So you seem to know their names. Yes, they passed this way up to the palace this past noon. They’ll be guests of King Pilus by now.”

“Damnation, it’s too bloody late. They’ll be prisoners by now, just as your own king is and his family. Send one of your own guards to check if you don’t believe me.”

The guard frowned again. There had been some concern in the town that the palace had been closed to visitors for several days but the whisper of a royal visitor had explained the secrecy.

“What do you know of this boy?” The guard demanded. “Speak or I’ll cut your guts out!”

Before the guard had realised it, Drustan’s sword flashed from its hiding place behind his back and it was resting point first against the guard’s throat.

“You’ll not cut this boy’s guts out old man. Now let me pass out of this town for I have work to do. If you want to do something useful go and check properly on the palace. It’s been taken I tell you. The inner castle is invested with Berber infiltrators. King Pilus is taken hostage and I’ll wager King Appotel has joined him. I’ll be back on the morrow!”
The guard was too shocked to stop Drustan and he slipped out of the town gates even as the rumours about the palace were being investigated. Drustan needed help but it had to be the right sort of help.

His first task was to find a horse. His own had been locked in the castle and was probably being prepared for butchery as food in the castle became yet scarcer. He was forced to steal one for nobody would consider ‘lending’ a precious mount to a seemingly scruffy beggar boy. He located a horse on a farm by the roadside and after carefully leading it some distance in silence he finally mounted it bareback, just like his earliest childhood days with the wild Welsh mountain ponies. The ride was uncomfortable for the horse was not well fed and had been worked to the plough as well as being used by the farmer for the occasional visit to the market. The animal was hard and bony but wiry and tough. Drustan mused ruefully as his own fleshless, bony arse grated against the nag’s bony spine. His ‘Blueface’ wound was being rubbed raw.

‘It was going to be a sore ride but a durable one. The animal would reach the border and Lord Pedoro’s chiefdom.’

He had chosen to make for Pedoro’s border township because Pedoro would remember him as the King’s herald’s companion and besides Lord Pedoro had four sons with some knowledge of arms having been raised as noblemen.
Pedoro’s youngest son was still small enough to wriggle through the fissure and Drustan hoped he would have courage enough to assist him inside the castle. For Drustan the vital factor was subterfuge and secrecy. The rocky buttress were the cave was hidden high up the cliff was deemed the most inaccessible part of the castle’s defences and few if any of the towns guards would be watching that area. They would be holding the normal approaches in their siege of the castle. For by now, the Capetani people would be alert to their king and royal family having been somehow captured and held to ransom.

As to the fate of his sisters and King Appotel’s family, Drustan could only wonder and worry. Time was vital!
After a day and a half’s hard riding, he reached the Border town of Rodondo in the dead of night and hammered loudly on the Lord Pedoro’s castle gates. A sleepy guard answered angrily.

“Who the hell comes calling at such a late hour?”

“I am Drustan, son of Caderyn, son of Erin of the Gangani. I am Appotel’s herald and I will speak with your lord Pedoro.” Drustan answered boldly with all the strength he could muster for he was in truth exhausted after a day and a half’s hard riding.

“Wait there beggar boy. Lord Pedoro is sleeping.”

“Of course he is!” Drustan snapped back. “Only fools like you and I are awake at this unearthly hour. Now rouse your master! I have urgent and vital news. And ignore these rags. I have been hard done by but I still have my sword!”
Drustan made a few skilful passes with his sword and the guard recognised that the boy at least had some military training. He called down to a companion to go and get Lord Pedoro. Drustan waited fretfully outside the gate until a familiar face appeared on the battlement.

“You say you are Drustan.”

“Yes my lord. I met you when King Appotel’s heralds passed this way.”

“Oh yes, I remember now; the boy with the rough manners and rude nature.”

“Yes all of that sir but the news I have is vital and you must know of it!”

Lord Pedoro signalled to the guards as he instructed Drustan to disarm. Drustan reluctantly slipped the sword out of the ragged shoulder scabbard he had fashioned out of rough homespun cloth then he stabbed it into the earth as he dismounted. He also removed his beloved hidden dagger from its concealment in his loincloth to demonstrate his integrity and legitimacy. Pedoro noted the boy’s act and nodded approvingly.

The gates opened and several swordsmen advanced to meet him as Pedoro called down.

“We never take chances boy; this is a border guard town after all.”

“Very wise,” Drustan called back as he dismounted and then staggered with exhaustion against his equally exhausted horse.
By the time the guards had advanced, Drustan had collapsed. They circled him cautiously as Pedoro called down to them.

“Check the cheek of his right arse. If he’s got a scar that almost gives him three butt cheeks then it is the boy. King Appotel regaled me with some wonderful tales about the kid. The son he wishes he had apparently.”

The guard captain rolled Drustan over onto his belly, easily peeled back the skimpy rag that gave the unconscious Drustan what little modesty he had and laughingly confirmed Lord Pedoro’s observations.

“Yes sir. By God it’s a fine scar and on one so young.”

“Then that’s the boy. Check for any more hidden weapons then bring him and his weapons to my chamber.

In Pedoro’s private chamber, Drustan was laid out on a low couch as Pedoro instructed his guard captain to remain with two men at arms as guards and witnesses. Drustan was out for the count, but his very being there alerted Lord Pedoro to some unknown danger. Pedoro was no fool and totally loyal to King Pilus. He immediately started preparations to strengthen the town and put the whole citizenry on alert. At the earliest break of dawn he summoned the town’s burgomasters. It was then that Drustan finally came to and the guard captain alerted his chief.

As Pedoro and his council sat around the couch, Drustan haltingly related events at the castle as Pedoro’s wife, The Lady Shulaar fed the boy intermittently with broth between statements. Drustan ate it greedily and begged for more. She produced another large bowl-full in short order.

“Thank you my lady. This is the first food I have eaten since escaping the castle.”

Pedoro’s eyes widened at this news of the boy’s escape. He spoke immediately.

“And that my boy is the first serious question I have to ask you. How did you escape such an impregnable fortress?”

Drustan faltered; to reveal the existence of the fissure would reveal the castle’s weaknesses. He hesitated uncertainly then motioned to whisper in Pedoro’s ear.

“I would speak with you sir, alone. I have discovered secrets about that castle that must not be broadcast abroad.”
Pedoro nodded wisely and had the boy stripped naked to check for hidden weapons again before instructing him to join him in his wife’s bed-chamber, for this was the nearest private room. As Drustan self-consciously covered his genitals, all eyes were more fascinated by the huge angry crimson scar on his right arse. Even the Lady Shulaar’s eyes fell to studying it for she had four fine sons and had seen plenty of bare-arsed boys. She smiled and turned to the Captain of the guard as her husband Pedoro accompanied the naked youth into her private chamber.

“Well Captain, no better badge of Identity will you or I ever see than that boy’s arse.”

The captain nodded and replied ‘yes’ with no small embarrassment at the Chieftain’s wife having been present when the boy was made naked. She smiled and nodded.

“Don’t worry captain. I’ve got four sons of my own, I’ve seen plenty enough not to be embarrassed. Though I must confess, for a boy who has seen so much of war and fighting, he has an unseemly girlish chest. Did you see those, - well, I would have to call them breasts?””

Lady Shulaar and the captain chuckled as the door to her chamber closed and Pedoro followed Drustan into the chamber. There he fell to questioning the boy in private.

“So lad, what is this secret that no other must know?” The King asked as his eyes fell to the naked boy’s chest and seemingly incongruent cock.

“It’s the castle sir. It’s not impregnable.” Drustan replied trying to ignore the king’s fascinated gaze.
Pedoro’s jaw dropped.

“What! How so? Is that how it was taken?”

“No sir. That was done by subterfuge. A slave dealer brought a large coffle of captured slaves to the castle but they were not what they seemed. They were men at arms and King Pilus put them in a cell for the night to prepare a market the following day. In the night, the guard was overwhelmed by the ‘slave-master’ and the castle’s defences were breached. They have only thirty or forty men holding the castle but that is enough for the king’s family is held hostage and the king is their prisoner, all inside the castle."

“So what is their objective, the invaders that is?”

“I don’t know sir. It was all I could do to stay hidden and garnish these logistical facts. As to conjecture about anybody’s plans I know nothing. Who could I speak with that might know?”

Pedoro nodded wisely then returned to the other issue, Drustan’s escape.

“So, this other secret, your escape, the castle is not impregnable you say.”

“No sir, it can be entered but only by boys, - or girls,-. There is a tiny fissure in the rock but only a boy my size can pass through it, or a very small man. It is very long and very narrow, see my belly and back. The scratches and cuts are from the floor and roof. The rock is sharp.

“Yes. I wondered where you got those, and those, - those things on your chest. My God! You’re a strange-un and no mistake.”
Drustan glared at the king and fingered his sensitive swellings self-consciously. Then he shrugged and went on to describe the passage at length until Pedoro had all the information he needed. Pedoro stood and looked down at the careworn emaciated body lying on his wife’s own private bed and decided to leave him there in the care of his good lady. As he rose to leave, he spoke to the boy.

“You realise Drustan, I have to confirm this. But I am not wasting time. As you sleep I will be mustering my forces to deal as best we see fit. I am the king’s second-in-command.”

The boy nodded gratefully as a tear leaked into his eye.

“There’s one last thing sir. It’s my sisters. You know they were with King Appotel’s party.

The Town guards told me they all entered the castle. If you get any news please waken me.”

“I will boy. Go to sleep for now. That’s what you’ll need for the tasks ahead.”

Pedoro left the chamber and motioned to his wife and daughter Shenoa.

“Clean him up then let him sleep, I’ve much to do and I’ll be needing him. And for God’s sake get something to cover up that chest, it’s weird. He resembles a young maid!”

Lady Shulaar frowned and tutted as she debated what to do as her husband left to attend to preparations.
He then addressed the town council as they commenced a plan of action.

Confirmation of Drustans story was not long coming. Four galloping messengers arrived with urgent news just after high noon and Lord Pedoro frowned. Everything the boy had told them was true but Pedoro would let the boy sleep until the dinner hour.
His wife Lady Shulaar joined him at lunch with the council and expressed her concerns for the boy.

“He’s half starved my dear Peddy. He’ll need fattening up.”

“We’ll not have much time for that my dear lady. We leave on the morrow at dawn.”

“Then if you must, give him a good mount and some decent clothes.” Shulaar demanded. “His arse bones are red raw after riding that bony nag all the way here, night and day, non-stop and bare-backed.”

“And weapons my dear wife, we must return his weapons for the boy is a hardened soldier. You heard Appotel’s telling of the death of Blueface. That man was the scourge of the north.”

His wife smiled as she took the boy’s precious dagger and fingered it in front of her husband.

“Is this the same dagger he killed that pirate Blueface with?”

“Yes my lady, truly a weapon with provenance.”

“Yes, but such a plain thing. No jewel encrusted handle, no fancy hilt or decorated scrollwork, just a plain steel blade and handle all fashioned from one piece of metal, and with hardly a hilt to keep one’s grip of it. It’s more like a common kitchen knife than a soldier’s weapon.”

“Aye, but grip enough to emasculate then disembowel one of the most evil men on this world. The boy did well.”

“And that scar on his arm; that was the Berber attack?”

“Yes my dear lady. As I said, the boy’s battle hardened.”

“And yet he has skin as soft as a maid’s not to mention that chest. He could be mistaken for a maid!”

“Well, he’s a proven fighter and he has information that I cannot do without. He has to come with us!”

“Will our sons ever face such hardships I wonder?” She shuddered.

“The two middle ones might. Ferdie and Sular will be accompanying me to help the king. Our eldest son Isaar will remain here with you and the captain of the guard to organise defence if there is an attack from the south or maybe even the west. The heralds from the capitol main thinking is that Pilus’s cousin in the west has got something planned ever since the treaty of the Olive groves. He believes he was cheated of the fertile lands between the Odil and Tinto rivers.”

“So only my youngest, Gontala will remain with me.” Shulaar lamented.

“Hopefully my lady. He is but eleven summers and hardly ready to fight.”

“Queen Bramana told me that’s what they said about Drustan.” Shulaar replied.
Pedoro nodded agreement.

“Drustan will be the first to tell you, he was very frightened, and very lucky. King Appotel told me that. The boy’s already got an old man’s head on a youth’s shoulders. Too old by Appotel’s reckoning. The boy’s a distrustful cynic. I’m looking forward to talking with him as we march north.” Pedoro said this for the benefit of any unfriendly ears at the council table.

At dinner, Drustan was made to sit by Pedoro’s pretty daughter Shenoa whilst the three older sons were arranged opposite him and the youngest boy Gontala sat below his older sister. Pedoro and his wife Lady Shulaar sat together at the top of the table. Drustan cast a cautious eye about the table and surmised it was the most tactful arrangement. He had no objections to sitting on the distaff side particularly as he would have female company either side. Other council members and the captains of the guards took the other seats.

Drustan talked little as the food was served for he was still hungry. The boys were disappointed for they had hoped of tales of derring-do but the women were relieved. Here for once was a man; nay a boy, - a youth who did not boast or monopolise the conversation.

Most of the time, Drustan asked Pedoro of his plans but the wily lord kept his counsel. The less that others knew, the safer the enterprise.

“We can discuss that when we are on the march, young man. We have much to exchange.”

“I wish I was going,” Gontala the youngest boy bleated.

Drustan glanced around Shenoa’s pretty countenance and spoke to her youngest brother Gontala.

“How old are you?”

“Eleven. Just as you where when you killed Blueface.”

“No. I was older than that, I was nearly thirteen. That’s how stories get blown up. I was twelve when my village was burned and my family mostly murdered. At eleven, all I did was sail boats around my people’s sea. I sailed boats and watched Blueface spreading murder and terror the length and breadth of North and West Britain.”

“But you did kill him.”

“Now you’re embarrassing me Gontala. Let’s not frighten your sister. Just remember this; I was a very lucky, lucky boy!”

At this Gontala’s mother came to Drustan’s rescue.

“Tell us of this magical ship you built. Appotel was all about it when he passed through.”

Drustan smiled his relief and thanks. Talking of his beloved Angry Mermaid was a much pleasanter task.

“Oh she’s a fine craft my lady. Swift and agile and the measure of any Corsair, Berber pirate. She was a child of necessity. The Vikings, the Norsemen that is, were already spreading their murder and mayhem. Viking ships are every bit as fast and deadly as anything the Corsairs can build. I built my ship as my test piece for my father’s approval and acceptance into the guild. Everybody laughed when I presented her for trials but I was the chief’s youngest son so the whole clan indulged me. The laughter soon changed when The Mermaid showed her paces. My ideas were proved right but I never had a chance to gain by it. I was returning home in her with my twin sister Mabina and we found the Norse pirates sacking my village. My older sister Aiofe had already been taken captive as a slave but the ship that had her as a prize thought they had an even finer prize if they captured my speedy little boat. When they spotted us coming home, they chased Mabina and me through waters we knew better than they.

The greedy fools followed were big Viking longships could not go. They struck a rock and sank quickly in the ferocious tides. All the heavily armed soldiers went down with their ship because they had been celebrating with stolen beer and they were still wearing their armour. Only my sister Aiofe escaped in her flimsy nightgown. It didn’t drag her down with her captors. All our family are good swimmers, we were raised beside the sea and lived amongst the boats we built. Mabina and I rescued our older sister from the swirling currents and then we just steered south to escape.

As I said earlier, we were lucky. My beloved Mermaid has saved our bacon on a few occasions and nearly always more by luck than judgement.”

Shenoa smiled at her mother Lady Shulaar. At last, she had drawn the taciturn visitor out of his shell and got him to talk about something interesting. Shenoa admired her mother’s skills whilst Pedoro gave his wife’s hand an affectionate squeeze. Drustan was no longer digging for information about battle plans in front of other diners that Pedoro wasn’t certain he could trust. With the king held hostage in his own castle by traitors from within, Pedoro did not know who to trust.

His wonderful wife had finally found Drustan’s weak point, - his love for his magical boat. By asking a few cleverly worded questions, the good lady kept Drustan talking at length while the four sons listened enraptured. The meal was finally deemed a great success. Diners had been entertained whilst nothing of Pedoro’s plans had been revealed at the table. After the meal, Drustan, Pedoro and the senior captain of the guard discussed and laid plans of attack. The very idea that they could effect secret entry into the castle, if only with children, - gave Pedoro and the Captain serious hope. The problem was which children. Pedoro’s older sons were already nearly grown men and the only small boy with any sword skills was his youngest son Gontala. His youngest son Gontala would have to be used for the secret incursion. Reluctantly Pedoro broke the news to his wife. She was not best pleased.

In the morning, a refreshed Drustan met Lord Pedoro in his castle courtyard as the first contingent prepared to dash straight for the king’s castle. The older son Isaar was despondent that he was not accompanying them but had to recognise his father’s concerns for the town’s main responsibility to protect the border bridge and crossing. Isaar now had a town to guard and with meagre forces at his disposal his was a difficult task. It was an onerous duty for a lad of only twenty years.

The middle sons Ferdie and Sular were already mounted and the vanguard detachment was ready to leave with Lord Pedoro at its head. There was no tactical military reason to this save one. As Lord Marshal of the Southern borders, Pedoro was the senior chief and his counsel would have weight at any conferences concerning the rescue of the king.
The middle boys turned curiously to Drustan and asked.

“Do you not accompany us Drustan?”

“Not yet sirs, your father and I have separate strategies and I must tarry awhile. There are tactics to be addressed. I will meet you in a couple of days when the main troop meets again at the king’s castle.”

With this said for all ears to hear, Drustan saluted Lord Pedoro with an assurance to help the Senior Captain of the guard carry out the other parts of their plan. As Pedoro made his goodbyes Drustan joined the lady Shulaar and her daughter Shenoa and her youngest son Gontala on the steps as the vanguard troop stepped out. Once clear of the town walls, Drustan watched the dust cloud rising as the troop broke into a brisk trot. He then turned to lady Shulaar.

“Well my dear lady, now for part two.”

Lady Shulaar frowned for this was a part she was seriously concerned about. Drustan and Pedoro’s plan put all her beloved children at risk, even her beautiful daughter Shenoa.

“This had better work Drustan. It’s bad enough that my youngest son, only just eleven summers, is to be drawn into the fight but if harm befalls my only daughter I will come hunting you to your grave.”

“I’m afraid my lady that they are the only ones small enough to follow me through the fissure. Your older sons have grown too large to squeeze through. Your daughter will readily pass for a serving girl and I intend to exploit her beauty. Hopefully there will be no sword play, at least not around your little heroine. Her part in the plan is pure subterfuge.”

“And your part in the plan?” Shulaar demanded knowingly.

“There will be risk. I won’t deny it. I will have to kill and your youngest son Gontala may well see the act. I’m hoping not but it depends on where and when and how far we get into the castle’s defences before we are challenged and I have to act.
“We hope to effect an entry into the castle by one of the lesser gates. Only Pedoro and I know which one. Even the Captain of the guard refused to learn of it. He says if he doesn’t know he cannot reveal it if he’s captured. His part is the most dangerous, but he’s a man at arms and accepts his duty.”

This last statement was a lie; the captain of the guard would have very little to do except serve as a decoy but once again, the lie was broadcast for any disloyal ears.

Lady Shulaar drew a deep breath. The idea of even her youngest children being drawn into combat did not endear her to this wild youth. Then she reflected ruefully however that combat came with the territory if your husband enjoyed the title of Lord Marshal of the southern borders. When darkness fell, Lady Shulaar’s heart missed several beats as she watched her last remaining children slip silently out of the town and set off noiselessly along the road with muffled hooves until they were well out of earshot. Once clear of the town, the new waxing moon now gave them a glimmer of light and they set off at an easy trot.

Drustan was truly glad to be sitting in a saddle for the return journey. His arse was still sore from the bony nag he had ridden bareback and his scar was beginning to ache.

Their mounts were good animals and well fed so they made excellent speed. Dawn found them half way and by the evening they had slipped past their own father. Shenoa and Gontala both wondered why they had not revealed themselves to their own father but Drustan explained the need for subterfuge and secrecy. Lord Pedoro had no idea who might be in league with the enemies presumed to lie to the west. The less others knew of the disposition of Pedoro’s forces the better their chances of success. Only Drustan knew Lord Pedoro’s plan for it was his contribution that had made it viable. It all hinged on Drustan managing to open the Eastern Postern gate by guile and deception. This was the most lightly guarded gate for its approach was a steep rocky path impassable to horses. Any attackers had to approach on foot and run a gauntlet of the battlements high up on the Curtain Wall.
Because this gate was so difficult to attack it was the most lightly defended. Just five men of the forty occupiers of the castle. In ordinary circumstances, five men would have fended off a modest attack. Twenty men would have defended from an army.

In the dead of night after the moon had set, Drustan and his two comrades cast off their finery and changed into the servant’s rags that would be their disguise inside the castle. To please the pair, Drustan let them carry daggers and he was later to be thankful for that indulgence. He also gave them each a long rope if needed at the cliff.

They blackened their bodies with mud and slipped towards the castle at the foot of the high cliff that doubled as the castle’s defences and the town’s. At this point, both town and palace were impregnable to the uninitiated. Fifty feet of sheer, smooth, weather worn granite gave neither foothold nor handhold after the first hundred feet of occasional shrubs and bushes. Any attacker ignorant of the little cave secreted invisibly at the impossible overhang would have seen no reason to take the risk and never have scaled the overhanging outcrop that comprised the last pitch of rock to the cave. Drustan and his companions finally arrived at the foot of the towering cliff and he was relieved to find the rope still there. He had dirtied it and covered it with sods of grass and shrubbery to hide it and his efforts had proved successful. From below, the chain at the entrance to the cave resembled nothing more than a watery dribble whilst below, the tail of the rope had been cunningly coiled up behind a large dense bush. Shenoa and Gontala grinned as Drustan revealed his secret then Shenoa stammered nervously as she stared up at the towering cliff.

“A,- am I g, - going to have to climb that?”

Drustan nodded then added.

“I can climb first then you can tie the rope around you and we’ll just pull you up. It won’t be hard you’re quite light.” Once you’re up, Gontala must tie everything else to the rope and send them up before we finally pull him up. We leave the rope at the cave mouth up in the cliff. To make things easy, Drustan collected all their weapons and assorted equipment he had brought and stuffed them into one bag. Gontala would not forget anything in their haste, for Drustan was in a hurry. The sooner they were all up the buttress and safely hidden in the cave, he would feel a lot happier.

Shenoa swallowed then shrugged her shoulders and nodded. She hadn’t expected such a climb but ‘when needs must,’ She thought. ‘At least she was dressed for it with her short tunic and bare feet.’

Drustan wasted no time and swarmed up the rope in short order. The smaller kitchen cooking chain proved a bit harder to grip but he still arrived at the cave mouth in short order. Shenoa followed with no less agility and Impressed Drustan with her nimble footwork as he hauled her hand over fist up the cliff. She arrived at the top feeling very pleased with herself and fell into Drustan’s arms. She would have liked to linger there but Drustan had no time to waste on amour. The bag followed in short order followed by Gontala and they settled back into the cave to share some bread , meat and water.

“It’s best to fight on a full stomach. Eat it all,” advised Drustan, “we don’t know when we’ll next eat.”

Having eaten little during the journey the pair needed no persuading. All the food was eaten.

Next, Drustan lit the three little lamps and disappeared into the fissure dragging the equipment bag behind him. Shenoa, glanced at her younger brother, shrugged and promptly followed. They found themselves in the ‘half-way’ chamber and Drustan signalled to them to be quiet. He pointed out the drain hole and whispered.

“King Pilus’s family are down there. They’re probably sleeping and it’s best they don’t know we’re here. Secrecy and surprise; those are our weapons!”

Both children had gathered the jist of the plan now and Drustan took the opportunity to explain it in depth. They nodded nervously as Drustan made them repeat their parts. Shenoa was to pretend to be an amorous kitchen maid and she would accompany Drustan who would be dressed as a soldier in the clothes he had stolen and secreted in the cleft after killing the previous owner and burning his body. Gontala was also to pretend to be another kitchen maid and he would be bringing the rest of the rations for the soldiers standing guard. Pedoro had already made his soldiers clearly visible to the occupiers of the castle and they had posted double watches until their own forces arrived to take issue with whosoever still supported King Pilus. This meant that the defenders were more-or-less on permanent guard duty and not free to eat in the great hall. Food had to be taken to them from the kitchens. Pedoro had worked this out from his knowledge of the castle and the occupier’s numbers supplied by Drustan. He had deliberately arranged his men so that the castle occupiers could easily see them but they remained out of bow-shot. Just the presence of troops loyal to the captured king would cause stress in the castle. It was this stress that Drustan intended to exploit.

After eating and resting up, Drustan led his companions down the inner section of the fissure and they arrived in the upper cleft in the rock that lay hidden in the ceiling shadows above the dungeon passage. He instructed the pair to wait unseen until he had reconnoitred the kitchens. The evening meal was being prepared and Drustan was pleased to see the Taan, the scullery maid that he had met the last time. She was busy rushing about preparing bowls of food to deliver to the guardsmen who held them captive. Drustan used a dark alcove below the spiralling steps that connected the kitchens up to the castle courtyard and waited. Soon the girl appeared struggling with the huge copper pot and Drustan stepped out to confront her. He had to save the pot as she nearly dropped it in shock.

“Which gate is that for?”

After recovering from her shock Taan gasped.

“The main gate; you’re back then!”

“Yes. Do they check the food for poisons?”

“Not anymore. They confiscated anything suspicious and they’ve stopped checking.”

Without replying because speed was essential, Drustan tipped a pouch full of powdered herbs into the stew and warned the girl.

“They won’t taste it but there’s not enough to kill them. It will just make them feel drowsy but not suspicious, they’ll just think it’s because they’ve been standing guard all day.”

“Your soldiers are outside! Are they going to attack the castle?”

Drustan just nodded and told the girl to carry on as normal then meet him at the bottom of the spiral stairs as she delivered the other pots.

“You’ll also have a little helper. Just pretend she’s an even lowlier scullery maid than you. The faster this stuff is delivered, the faster the guards will be affected. Do you decide who gets fed first?”

“More or less. That’s why I fed the main gate first. Their sergeant is posted there.”

“Good girl.” Feed the East postern gate next, okay!”

“If you say so. When will your army attack?”

“Hist girl! The less you know, the better for all of us. After you’ve delivered that, go and get the postern gate’s food and meet us here.”

Taan nodded, smiled nervously and returned to her duties. Drustan was pleased to realise that no guards patrolled inside the castle. Their forces were spread too thin. He collected Shenoa and Gontala and explained the plan. They were waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Taan returned. Shenoa and the girl made their acquaintances as Drustan explained.

“Once you have given them their food, tell them you’ll be bringing extra rations for the night. Then they’ll be expecting us later when it’s darker.”

Shenoa already understood the plan and the two girls set forth carrying the pot between them after Drustan had dosed it with the herbal drugs. From the safety of the stairs, Drustan watched as the girls approached the sentry to the postern gate.

“Ah! About bloody time too. We’re bloody starving. Who’s she?”

“The under scullery maid sir,” Taan replied. “She rarely gets to leave the larders and store rooms. That’s why you won’t have seen her.”

The sentry studied Shenoa and smiled with a predatorial glint.

“Mmmm! Pretty little thing aren’t you?”

“Please sir, we have to feed the other guards.”

The sentry nodded with no little disappointment for the new girl’s story was true. Other guards had realised that the evening meal was being served up and they were hungry. The maids returned to the lower alleyway several times and finally completed their task. They left a small pot of stew for Drustan’s ruse. It remained now for the drugs to take effect and Drustan watched as the guards gradually started to lean sleepily at their various posts. Eventually as darkness fell, they seemed to be sleepy enough. Drustan had Gontala carry the pot as he masqueraded as a soldier. His ruse worked and they approached right up to the drowsy guards before they were challenged.

“Who goes there.”

“It’s the rations for the night,” Drustan replied in as deep a voice as he could muster. Don’t eat it all at once, food’s scarce.”

The sentry struggled to his feet and peered into the pot then looked again at Drustan. It was his last ever view of another man. Drustan’s dagger found it’s mark with deadly precision and Gontala gasped with fear. As Drustan gently lowered the man to a sitting position he turned to locate the other guard at the gate. He found him pissing in a glory hole and despatched him with equal alacrity. With both the gate sentries disposed of Drustan had two options. To kill the remaining three guards on the battlements or tackle the heavy bars that secured the gate. He decided the latter was the best option. From the battlements, the gate was invisible. He despatched Gontala back to the stairs and commenced carefully sliding back the heavy crossbars.
With infinite care he slid back the bars and cracked the gate open. It creaked alarmingly but the battlement guards were so drowsy that none were alerted by it. Once the gate was open wide enough to allow a man to pass, Drustan took the lamp from the guard room, lowered the flame to a minimum and placed the lamp in the gap to signal to Pedoro and his troops waiting outside the castle some way down the rocky pathway.

Amongst the rocks below the gate, Pedoro was relieved and overjoyed to see the signal. He advanced with his troops in the darkness.

Unfortunately one of the soldiers slipped and fell as his shield crashed deafeningly onto the rocks. The noise was enough to alert the battlement guards and they screamed the alarm as they commenced shooting arrows down into Pedoro’s troops. Several men were hit including Sular, Pedoro’s third son.

Then one of the battlement guards realised there was a light flickering below the keep and he looked down to see the gate ajar. Even though drowsy from the drugs he was sharp witted enough to realise all was not right. He hurtled down the steps to the gate house and cursed as he saw the lamp.

“What the hell’s going on?” He bellowed as he spotted his comrade still apparently seated in the shadows while his other companion was just stepping back from the lamp. The dopy guard eventually realised that the man was either a traitor to their cause or some sort of enemy who had somehow entered the castle. With a scream of rage he flung himself at Drustan.

Drustan had no time to draw his sword as the guard flung aside his empty bow and drew his sword. Drustan realised his time could be up if he didn’t act quickly. As the man lunged forward, Drustan flung himself into the gatehouse door way and slammed the door behind him. For a few moments, the guard cursed as he pushed against the door then he remembered that the gate was still unbolted. With a curse he turned from the door and lurched over to the gates. Drustan heard the wooden keeper bars being slid back into place and he cursed furiously. Now he would have to fight and that was the last thing he wanted. It would be a man against boy sword play with no chance of subterfuge or some clever trick. There was neither time nor room but Drustan had some advantages. The man was still dopy from the drugs. The guard-house was cramped and the passageway was the only way in or out.
Silently Drustan pulled back the gatehouse door and sighed with relief as he saw the befuddled guard preoccupied with the locking bars. He had laid his sword aside to manhandle the heavy timbers back into place. It was Drustan’s turn to attack and he selected the man’s left arm for he had seen the man holding his sword in his left arm as he had attacked earlier. With a furious slash he sliced open the man’s unprotected wrist and the man gave a howl of rage. He was not killed however but simply disabled. He bellowed the alarm again.

“Comrades to me! The gate is forced!”

The remaining pair of guardsmen heard his shout and lurched down the steps to give battle.

Drustan cursed as he stabbed the wounded man again then he struggled with the heavy bar for the second time. It moved but not enough before the two remaining guardsmen rushed to secure the gate. Like fools they shouted and this alerted Drustan to their attack. It gave him time to present his sword but he still had two grown men to face even though they were affected by the drugged stew. The clash of sword play rang across the courtyard and Drustan was forced to retreat back into the guard house. The deep narrow doorway prevented two men from attacking simultaneously but Drustan garnished no advantage. His overwhelming task was to open the gate and in this he had singularly failed. He cursed as he strived desperately to hold the first swordsman at bay.

As the clash of the fight persisted Drustan feared that other guardsmen might come to address the fight. He began to lose hope for his plan was falling apart. He was stuck, trapped in the guard-house.

He had not accounted for others even more desperate than he. Taan had returned to the kitchen but Gontala’s appearance had alerted her that something was wrong. She had expected him to be at least watching the fight if not participating.

“What’s wrong kid?”

“He’s trapped. Drustan’s trapped and the gate is still barred.”

Without more ado, Taan seized a long sharp kitchen knife and ignored the chief cook’s challenge as she dashed to the gate. Gontala naturally followed her, if only out of fearful curiosity. ‘Here at least was somebody who seemed bent on doing something.’ He thought.

The boy raced after her waving his sword and in passing Shenoa at the bottom of the spiral stairs he whispered a further summons for help.

“Drustan’s trapped. We’ll have to open the gate.”

Shenoa swallowed fearfully and set off after her youngest brother. She had visions of her mother’s torment if he or she were killed. The sound of the fight was confined to the guard-house and in the courtyard they only heard the faint clash of swords ringing out as the first swordsman hammered at the faltering boy while his comrade stood looking into the narrow doorway waiting for his chance to get at the boy. The man with the cut wrist was fortunately out of it. He sat slumped by the gate as arterial blood spurted his life away from the second wound Drustan had inflicted. Both the remaining soldiers were so intent on killing the boy that they failed to see or hear the stealthy approach of the bare footed scullery maid Taan knew enough not to announce her arrival and she simply drove her kitchen knife into the man’s shoulder as he continued looking into the guard-house. It
wasn’t a fatal wound for the man wore a heavy leather jerkin that had deflected the blow. The man bellowed with enraged pain as he span to face his attacker and swore as he recognised the kitchen maid.

“You! You bitch!” He cursed as he raised his sword to finish her. As his arm moved to strike, Gontala finally caught up and just managed to parry the man’s sword to strike harmlessly against the stone work. The man cursed again and set to against Gontala with renewed vengeance. Fortunately the stab wound had weakened the stupefied soldier’s arm and Gontala was able to jump about with freedom in the wide gateway. For a few moments Shenoa debated what to do until she saw the blood on the man’s shoulder then she approached cautiously. The man now had three antagonists because Taan had recovered her footing and even though she only held a kitchen knife it was a substantial blade. He bellowed to his companion who was still fighting with Drustan.

“Come out here! I’m outnumbered.”

His shout distracted the other soldier who momentarily stepped back into the short doorway passage to check his companion’s situation. This gave Drustan the vital opening he needed for the man’s sword arm was now hampered by the doorway. Drustan feinted to the left then lunged forward to catch the man’s sword arm a glancing cut. It wasn’t serious but it reminded the man that despite his antagonist being a boy, he was no mean swordsman. The man realised his best option was to retreat out of the doorway and stand back-to-back with his companion so that they could swing their swords freely. In the darkness he bumped blindly into his companion and both men cursed but continued fighting. Drustan now managed to emerge from the guard-room but the outcome was still uncertain. When he learned who the second swordsman was facing, Drustan’s sword play became furious and desperate. He received a vicious cut to his scalp then a second to his left thigh but it was not all one way. His sword arm was still sound and this counted more heavily against the drugged man who faced him. Drustan had inflicted a further cut to the man’s upper arm just below his short sleeve of chain mail. The man flinched and pressed harder until Drustan was backed against the gate. Meanwhile the second soldier was holding his own against the three who faced him. It was more a case of ‘shadow play’ for none of the children could countenance a full blooded attack with their short daggers against a sword. However their combined efforts served to keep the man preoccupied. Then Gontala realised his efforts had somehow put him between the soldiers who were both ‘back-to-back’. Suddenly he realised he could follow Drustan’s famous fight against Blueface and bend low to stick his dagger up under the man’s protective jerkin. Fortunately the man’s short-sleeved chain-mail ‘shirt’ stopped at his thighs so Gontala’ task was simpler. He had managed to find one of the other soldier’s swords and he held this now in his left hand having not yet had time to change hands in the ferocity of the fight. With his sword hand still making token stabs at his main foe he bent down and drove his bejewelled dagger up into the other man’s groin. The soldier let out a desperate growl and clutched at the deep wound in his groin. It was all Drustan needed as he took advantage and swung his sword furiously at the man’s unprotected neck. The sword bit deep and carotid blood spurted everywhere covering both Drustan and Gontala in his blood. The man collapsed backwards onto Gontala who now lay trapped beneath him. His companion glanced back saw the mess and span around in rage to kill the tiny boy. Drustan anticipated the move but he had to step over the dead soldier to parry the other man’s blow. The soldier’s sword struck Gontala’s shoulder a glancing blow as Drustan just managed to deflect the blade. Blood started to weep from Gontala’s shoulder and he squealed in fear more than pain. For him it had seemed certain death had come to visit.

His cry galvanised both girls who how had the soldier’s back to them as he faced the more deadly adversary of Drustan who now looked a dreadful sight with blood pouring down his face and weeping from his thigh. His sight was impaired with blood but he stood his ground and parried the soldier’s onslaught until Taan, having finally recovered her wits, leaped forward onto the soldier’s back to drive her dagger with all her might into the man’s neck. His helmet back-flap deflected the blow but the man realised again that he was back in a serious fight. He tried to glance over his shoulder but this was his undoing. Drustan lunged blindly forward and drove his sword into the man’s neck to skewer him on his sword point. The strike almost sliced Taan’s arm in passing and grazed it enough to draw blood. The man let out a choking gargle and fell to his knees as the remaining three chopped and hacked furiously at him to finally bring him low.

As soon as the fight was over Shenoa bent down to check her brother. Drustan cursed angrily.

“Bugger the boy; help me with this bloody gate!”

“He’s hurt!”

“So will we bloody all be if we don’t let your dad in. Help me with this bloody bar. My arm is weak!”

Shenoa finally realised that opening the gate was more important than her brother’s wound. Gontala was now squealing like a stuck pig and Drustan reassured Shenoa.

“If he can make a noise like that, he’s not that badly hurt. Now help me with this blasted gate before any more guards come!”
Taan the scullery maid had already stepped forward and the gate bar slowly inched back, when Shenoa added her strength it finally submitted and Drustan gasped with relief as he sagged to the floor with fear and exhaustion. His last vague recollection was of a large man in a red tunic and a full coat of chain mail rushing through the doors. Shenoa squealed with joyous relief and flung herself into her father’s arms as she pointed out the soldier pinning her younger brother to the floor. Immediately, other soldiers belonging to Lord Pedoro crowded through the gate. Drustan and the squealing Gontala were quickly lifted clear of the gateway and carried into the safety of the gatehouse guard-room.

“Job done!” Drustan sighed as he lost consciousness.