The Hedge Knight

We marched most of the day, along the river road. We had been following the river for days now, each day stopping outside a town or village or settlement named after the river and some other defining feature. Based on the hills I would assume this town is Riverbluff or Riverhill. They all ran together now.

The Centurions had set us up outside of town near the river. The knights stayed in the village. The lords in stayed at the inn. They would begin the round up now. All boys and men between 16 and 30 were rounded up and conscripted. That’s what happened to me and all of my fellow footmen, all of us were from different parts of the land. We hadn’t chosen to join the war. But the idea of getting a hand or foot chopped off so that you couldn’t join the next army that rolled through was enough encouragement for us to join.

At least they promised us meals, and glory, and a night track of land after the war. Only problem was we had to be on the winning side. If we lost we might as well have died losing that war.

We set up camp. As usual I hung around the Step-son Company. It was a name 4 of us had given ourselves. Our fathers or mothers had found new mates. We were treated as harshly as new step children had been in the stories that our original mothers had told us at their breast. Darrin had already started the fire and was about to fall asleep. The man could sleep anywhere and anytime. I think I’ve caught him sleeping while marching. Vance was pulling out our rations of salt beef and what they told us was coffee. In truth it could have just been burnt corn as good as it tasted. With the water boiling and the “coffee”
I didn’t feel like spending my evening by a fire again. We had told the same stories over and over again. I already knew which women of the village Andrew wanted to get to know better. We had been marching for a good fifteen miles in the rusty mail they had given us, lugging my pike on my shoulder, helmet weighing down on my head, and the pack of supplies on my back. It was my turn yesterday. Vance was due tomorrow.

The Centurions told us to wear the mail and helmets as a show of force. To show the enemy that we were a strong force to be reckoned with. All we had shown was the trees and bushes and the fish in the river how strong we were as a unit. It had been extremely hot and had been a very long march. The only relief was the brief rain shower in the morning that hung as a blanket of humidity the rest of the day.

“I’m going to take a dip in the river, leave me some food this time Darrin.” I told the company as I left my helmet and mail hanging on the pike that I had pushed into the damp ground.

“Getting all fresh for the wenches? Too bad it’ll go to waste tomorrow.” Andrew grinned, poking the fire.

“If you bathed once in a while you'd be able to woo a wife” I turned and walked to the river, walking through the camp. I grinned as he threw a wool rag at me. Other solders had had the same idea as I did. When I reached the bank I stripped down and jumped in the freezing water. The rush was enough to make me feel completely different, It stripped the aches and pains away, washed away all the sweat and dirt. I allowed myself to be carried off downstream a bit near the edge, deep enough that I could completely submerge myself. I dunked my head under the water for a minute, allowing the water to clean me off completely.

I heard the arrow penetrate the surface of the water, and then a large splash as another man on the bank fell in the river. I stayed underneath, not sure what was happening, and not wanting to volunteer my head as another target. When my lungs started screaming for oxygen came up and only exposed my head enough. Darkness had come quicker than I had thought was natural. The sun had completely disappeared when it only should have been low on the horizon. Something wasn’t right.

I allowed myself to drift down the river some more. But I knew that I had to get out sooner or later. The enemy surely would have had people down river to catch the bodies that fell into the river and strip them of anything valuable. I climbed out of the river, naked as the day I was born. I had drifted less than a quarter mile from camp. I scrambled to a nearby grove of bushes and small tries to hide myself. The entire village was in flames. There was chaos as the footmen in the camp were scattered and disorganized. The centurions were calling conflicting orders to the men that they had left. It looks like most of the dead had come from the first rain of arrows. The rain continued toward the camp and the village, burning rain that would kill if the drops fell on you.
I decided to stay quiet, and not to join the fray. Things were lost. I would be marked as a deserter, but as things appeared there would be no body left to punish me for that. I moved from my hiding spot and started back towards the river. I saw a corpse not far from my grove. When I got closer I saw that it was one of the knights. I could smell the piss and the booze on his corpse. He was wearing his mail and had his sword and shield with him. I decided to strip him of everything as he wasn’t going to need it anymore. I ran to the river and washed out as much blood and shit as I could. I would reek until I could steal other clothes, but at least I wasn’t naked anymore. I grabbed his sword and shield. It was a sigil that I didn’t recognize, a green blob. I couldn’t see well in this light despite the fire.

I changed my mind and decided to head back down the road and north the bluff. I stayed along the brush and trees, careful not to make any noise and not to draw attention. When started moving up I could see the rows of archers across the river and the two large armies converging on the village. We had marched right into a trap. I reached the edge of the road and a clearing. When I heard footsteps I froze. There was a small company of troups in fresh plate armor, gleaming against the fire. A man that looked lordly perched on top of a horse and two women chanting.

Wind seemed to blow around the women, they were locked hand in hand, staring into the sky chanting a dark melody over and over again. I couldn’t understand the words. I heard the crack behind me and swong the sword at the figure. The sword was easly deflected out of my hand and another sword was quickly at my neck.

“Well look what we found here.” Said a voice, “A hedge knight!”

The sound of laughter of the two other men filled my ears. I was caught, and most likely dead.

Tarlin: Judge of the One God

Beams of light pushed through the wood. Columns freckled the base of the Deerwood where Tarlin and his companion walked. He never took the road. Not for the fact that he wanted to avoid anyone else, but there was never any adventure on the road. There was no adventure, no excitement. His companion stopped, instinctively Tarlin crouched down and squatted ever time this happened. His dog always could tell when someone was nearby. He unclasped his scabbard and put his hand on the rough leather hilt.

The familiar grip melded to the palm of his hand perfectly, it became part of his hand. Tarlin searched the wood, for what caused his dog to pause. He heard them before they saw him. Three men ringing in mail like a thousand tiny bells, the hooves of their mounts thumping against the floor of forest. The dog found a spot and hid, Tarlin found a tree, and wrapped his cloak around him, doing the same. He was a rock, leaning against the tree.

The three men stopped in the clearing near where the rock leaned. He could hear them dismount, the sounds of a struggling girl, her mouth muffled.

“Er’es a good a place as any, common bitch, let’s see what ya have to offer” said a deep voice.

“Aye I carrie ‘er, I get the first go at it” said the next one

“No ya do, I get the first one…I’s the one whole stole her”

He could hear the girl whimpering and crying, He didn’t need to let this happen in his wood. He smirked at his father’s words. Well, I did ask for some adventure. He pulled out two light daggers, and held them in his right hand. He slowly stood up, he didn’t need to be too stealthy, as he knew the men had other things on their minds than to see who was hiding in the woods.

He whispered a quick prayer and let one dagger fly. It struck the neck of the Man who already had his britches down and was starting to climb over the girl. He fell down to his knees and sat there, and he died as he turned toward the throw. He let loose the next dagger as soon as the men turned. It struck the farthest man in the left eye, he fell like an upended bucket of water. The girl screamed as best she could, her eyes wide as the two men died. The last man turned but Dog was already on him. He had knocked the rapist down on his belly.

Before the man had a chance to get up Tarlin stood on his back, pinning him down. “Get off me!” the man protested. Tarlin unsheathed his bastard sword and pressed it into the man’s back.

“You are in no position to make demands rapist, what garrison are you from.” Tarlin asked.

“To the hells with you highwayman!”

“I’ve already been there,” He pressed the sword harder against the man’s back. The man screamed as the blade pierced the mail and the skin on the man’s back. “Tell me or this will be the tip of the pain”

“The Rose, Up at Deerton. We just were for a little fun, we didn’ know..”

Tarlin finished the blow, piercing the man’s heart. “May the God forgive me for my judgement” he whispered as he pulled the sword from the dead man. He turned to the girl. She was crying and full of fear. “Don’t be afraid, you are safe now.” He said to her as he pulled her up. He undid her gag and cut her ropes. The girl was barley fifteen years old, skinny, with large green eyes and long auburn hair. If it wasn’t for the cuts and bruises, she would have been strikingly beautiful. He gathered his knives from the bodies of the men, and searched their bodies for anything of value. He gathered a half dozen silvers and twenty coppers, and cut the sigils from the men’s chests. The men had told them the truth, he was of the Rose, and they were near Deerton. The three horses were tied to a tree. One had broken his neck from rearing from the blood, the other two seemed not to notice, or were so dulled from war that it didn’t matter.

“You will come with me.” Tarlin said. “I’ll give you to the sisters of Caperton, they will take care of you.”

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice was still shaking as much as she was.
“Tarlin Eddrus Stonecloak, Judge of the one God” He stated. He hated the title, but the maid had asked. “But you can call me Tarlin, no one we meet will need to know who I am. And who are you?”