We have arrived

[Dream Loxley]

(( To the player of Henri: *S* So glad you saved him, I was waiting for him to be washed ashore. Please let me know if you have the time to play this and would rather go to the Castle or we have many Rangers about the beaches and such...we could find you both and give aid. *S* I will not do anything until you post further.))

[Henri the ship boy]

(Sure, go ahead and find Henri. Scare the hell out of him, will be fun *g*)


Henri looked at the wounded Viking, taking the amulet from his bloodied hands. He stood on the beach, not knowing what to do. He should go to the castle? To the enemy’s fortress? No…. no he couldn’t do that? They would kill him. The English were allied with the Northern barbarians, they would be in that castle ….

Still Henri hesitated, until a groan from the wounded man shook him out of his doubts. He had saved him in the water, he couldn’t let him die now?

He began to run….as if the devil was in his back, or at least as good as his broken ribs alled him. He ran…. Towards the castle, to call for help!

[The Rangers]

*They were patrolling the shoreline...and the thick undergrowth before the forests. Small groups of 4 or 6 men continued to walk trails made by man and animal alike. From some parts they could watch the battle taking place in the Harbour. The area was not great in distance, only different settings ....sand covered beach or grassed dunes leading to thickets of trees and bushes. The cliffs towered above and finally the great Castle Windstorm. Knowledge of the easier routes would only be known to those of her lands but nowhere was un reachable if one used the well trodden paths.

Godfery crouched low.....as did Little....as much as his great bulk allowed.....footfalls.....snapping twigs and branches...laboured breath....someone was coming....they watched and waited a moment...bows drawn.

Little groaned as he stood upright...a tall man......large of build, hense his name.....he moved in front of the lad and quirked his brow.....a grin appearing as he spoke. Several others steathily surrounded the young man to show they were united in their confrontation.*

"What 'as we 'ere then lad......yers be in a mighty 'urry now....."

*All the while Little spoke in a kindly manner, he was surveying the lad making mental notes of his features and clothing. He looked in pain.... his clothes still wet from....perhaps the sea. The face was not one Little knew and he glanced around him for signs that his comrades recognised the lad. None acknowledged his gaze and so he firmly but with care...reached for the lad's arm ...more to steady him than to restrain, for he looked near to exhaustion.*

"Are there more of ye lad.......ye comes from tha ships aye.....be there more with ye?"

*Little looked directly to his eyes.....frowning slightly as he waited for the lad to speak....if he was from the French side....perhaps he would not understand, but time was of the essence if there were wounded waiting or still struggling in the waves.*

[Henri the ships boy]

The men he met on the beach looked like they were warriors. English. Dogs. Henri took two steps away from them, his fear of these infidel almost consuming him. What were they telling him? That they would take him and sell him as a slave to their Viking friends? That they would get a good price for him?

He swallowed, hard and fumbled with the amulet the injured barbarian had given him. Then suddenly a thought came to him – maybe that man had meant this amulet to buy his freedom from these men? Maybe it had a charm, or some magic to it these English wanted and for which they would let him go?

He spoke to them in Frankian, holding out Tyrun’s amulet to them “Here, take this, if you want it… you can have it! But you must come… with me… to the wounded man, on the beach!”

He saw no comprehension in their eyes, so he simply tossed the pendant to their feet, then pointed in the direction he had let the Viking at. “There! We need to go THERE!”

Would they follow him?

[The Rangers]

*For a moment Little thought the lad would run...the hatred within his face was beyond comprehension, mixed with fear of them and perhaps the unknown. The large man thought perhaps in the same situation he would have reacted the same way.

As the youngster spoke...his native tongue was complete jibberish to them all.....none having met foreigners before this moment in time. Although they made no sense of his words, they could and did make sense of his reactions and the desperation within both his voice and his mannerism. Little bent down to retrieve whatever it was the lad threw down.

It was Godfery who knew then.....with haste he lifted the necklet up and nodded his head. It belonged to the Norse Captain...he had seen him wearing it on more than one occasion. Within moments they had turned and quickly made their way along the track from whense the lad came.....a sand covered trail that opened onto the beach. With care, they helped the Lad, they did not want him to run away...they could see he was injured in some way and tried their best to supress his fears and anguish.

As they arrived upon the sands.....Owen and Godfery raised a shout...they had ran ahead and were now kneeling next to the one eyed Captain Tyrun. A weak pulse was found, but he was badly hurt.....they did not know if he would survive his ordeal. A makeshift cradle was made from several long branches, slipped into the sleeves of their shirts and jackets....between them all they created a crude but useable stretcher of sorts. Tyrun's lifeless body was carefully laid upon it and without a moment lost they made their way towards the Castle, using the longer but easier route. It was hoped they would be quicker that way rather than climbing over the rocks.

The Castle looked far off in the distance, but in truth it would not take them long to get there....Little offered his arm to the lad...nodding his head as if to assure him he wanted to help him and no harm would befall him.*

[Henri the ships boy]

With big sad eyes Henri watched as the Rangers carried the wounded Viking past him and another Ranger who had stayed with him. As if watching him. When the stretcher was close to him, Henri touched the arm of the Viking, sending a little prayer to the Lord to help him, even if he was a heathen. Maybe…. If he woke up again… he would come to thank the Lord and become a Christian, like any reasonable and good man was.

He looked back at the big man of a ranger standing next o him, saw the offered arm. “Will you take me to the dungeons now?” He knew the man would not understand him… his stomach grumbled, his throat was like parchment from all the sea water he had swallowed… the sun was shining down hard upon them.

Henri lifted his hands to his mouth, trying to imitate a cup and the process of drinking. “J'ai soif Avez-vous l'eau ? EAU?“ (I’m thirtsy, do you have water? Water?“). He figured that mjay be if he spoke the word loud enough, the man might understand. “E-A-U…EEEEEAAAAAUUUUUU… Avez-vous l'eau ?... Bâtard stupide, vous ne pouvez pas même comprendre l'entretien civilisé ? Stupid bastrad, you cannot even understand a civilized tongue).

The pain and exhaustion, and lack of water was getting to the boy, he bend over, holding his stomach, whimpering.

[The Rangers]

*The gesture made by the lad was touching.....for a moment his features softened....he seemed to understand....perhaps because they were both of the sea.....a bond.....Little did not know. He was suddenly on the end of a barrage of strange words...but as the lad lifted his hands.....forming them into a shape....Little nodded....water...of course...he had not thought of it before.

Four of the Rangers carried the makeshift stretcher with a quick pace.....the trail was dry and quite clear of foliage which made the journey easier. Little reached around and took his pack from his shoulder.....reaching in for a water pouch. He pulled the stopper and offered it to the boy ...nodding his head and smiling in friendship.

No harm would befall him......not while Little or the Rangers were here....if his kinsmen were still about then they would be reunited.....if not.....then there was always a place for a strong lad as this one. Little wondered then what would become of the lad.....what kind of life he had led until now.*

"Drink....drink....then we go.....to.... the ..... Castle"

*He spoke slowly...his fingers indicating walking....then pointing to the Castle which was only half a mile away now.*

"Food..........eat........safe aye......and get yer looked at by tha 'ealers."

*He beckoned the lad to walk beside him, offering his arm again....he was eager to get him there....by the looks of him he was near to dropping.*

[Henri the ships boy]

Greedily the Frankish boy gulped down the water offered to him, each gulp hurting for his broken rips, but the cool wetness soothing his parched throat. When the man spoke again, Henri nodded, slowly at first. Could he trust this man? Captain de Sennis had always warned Henri never to trust any English, and even less any of the northern barbarians. They would enslave him, maybe feed his limbs to their dogs one by one, assuring him a long, terrible death.

ƒ²ut the man offering his arm again looked kind. His words, even though Henri couldn¡¦t understand them, were gentle, and he understood the gestures. The man wanted him to follow to the castle.

Henri needed to know more. ¡§Mon nom est Henri.... Je m'appelle Henri! Quel est votre name?....Tu va me tuer ? (My name is Henri.... I am called Henri. What is your name?...Are you going to kill me?)

He saw his words made no sense to the man, he sighed despondedly and finally took the Ranger¡¦s arm. If he would die, he would show them how a Frank died. But now he wanted only to sleep.

[The Rangers]

*Little watched the lad drink...he must have been parched as he gulped down the water...some trickled down his chin and became lost upon his still wet clothing. He was exhausted....it was obvious and the Ranger was so pleased when the lad finally took his arm. He understood the name Henry and nodded with enthusiasm...his grin wide and his eyes showing the depth of his kindness.*

"Little.... ah be L i t t l e .... 'tis good ta meet yers Henry lad."

*A gentle pat upon the lads shoulder as he spoke his name again....then as the lad seemed to fall against the large man...he gathered him up in his big strong arms and proceeded to carry him. Before long they caught up to the others and the Castle Gates were in sight.

Owen checked Tyrun's pulse again....he shook his head and was afraid for the Captain's health even more as they tried to quicken their pace.

Godfery took an arrow from his quiver and notched it.....he took aim and held his breath as he let it loose...hoping it would find its target upon the heavy oak gate.*

"Good work men.... we be nearly 'ome now.... Lets 'opes they come 'an aid us."

[Sir Joseph]

Walking about the ramparts, mentally checking off our defenses, vats of oil, ready, scores of quivers with fletched arrows sharpened to a razors edge, ready…., Spears lying in row upon row, ready..… suddenly…. vippp, THUD! Looking down and spotting an arrow imbedded into the thick oak. Shouting te the guardsman as he is ready to inspect it… DON”T TOUCH IT! I’ll be right there… Quickly racing down the rampart steps.. passing thru the oaken archway…looking closely upon the angle it rests in the wood.. Carefully tugging the arrow from deep within the oak inspecting it closely as I twirl it in my hand slowly.. recognizing the one black fletch as a rangers arrow . Knowing full well someone be in trouble, so many of our Rangers at risk in the field……tryins te figure the trajectory from whence it came, remberins the angle it was in the oaken doors. taking three guards with me, soliciting a wagon from the stables for two of the guards, a steed fer the other, mounting Ortex kickin em lightly in the sides and heading due east from the castles walls…The wagon following close behind, the guards attentive, their bows notched and ready to fire, nae knowins fer certain this nae be a trap… hopins I aves determined the right direction from whence the arrow came....... procedding cautiously, yet, expeditiously

[The Rangers]

(( Make that to the West and the shoreline Sir Joe old bean and you have yourself a date! :-*psssssssst.. I believe Mister Tyrun is eager to torment those who might nurse him back to health ))

*They were struggling...the incline through the trees was steeper than any remembered....and Tyrun was not a man of skin and bones. Shirtless and covered now in perspiration they heaved the stretcher out of the dense thicket and stopped to catch their breath as the trail opened up towards the road.

Godfery listened......his head tilted to one side.....he heard wheels....crunching and rattling as they turned around and around over the ground. He looked then to the others and with his hand bade them to crouch down a moment....the sounds could have belonged to anybody.

As horses hooves clicked and clacked over stones and cobbles....they watched from behind the edges of the woodland.....Tyrun's laboured breath fast becoming mere whispers, lost in the air.

Suddenly a shout went up....Owen saw the colours of Windstorm upon the men and in an instant jumped from the bushes...hands held high. He had no shirt on...just a Rangers Bow held up in submission. He held the gaze of Sir Joseph and prayed the good Knight recognised him. Waving frantically he called out the word Rangers several times...keeping his hands held high where they could be seen.

Little had rested and sat the exhausted Henry down for the time being, and then as the small party congratulated one another on reaching aid....he began to lift the lad one more time.

As the wagon approached, the men moved forward carrying the stretcher out towards the road in full view now of the Windstorm troops.*

[Sir Joseph]

Hearing something within the forest, turning in the saddle telling the guards t hold their fire.. Spotting the ranger Owen sweating profusely and haggerred holdin es bow… My beaming smile allowins em te know I’ve recognized him.. kicking Ortex in the sides te increase pace and close the gap…

Dismounting .. Owen? Ye aves troubles? As I speak the other rangers exit the concealment of the forest with a stretcher in tow…. Mah eyes looking closer, then closer still….. the large man held within the confines of the stretcher appeared familiar…. By the gawds! TYRUN!!!

Racing te the side of the stretcher then taking a knee… Tyrun…. Mah eyes glass o’er…. What aves they done te ye? My words fall upon deaf ears…

Es wounds looking severe, eye patch missing, the mighty chest rising very little with each strained pull of labored breathing, spotting the drops of blood crusted on es lips, the mist of red as he exhales…placing a comforting hand upon es shoulder… taking a deep breath.. fighting back tears fer mah friend…We shall get ye healthy once again, Tyrun…releasing mah hand from es shoulder rising te mah full height and summoning the guards te take the stretcher te the wagon..

“Owen, aves the Rangers ride in the back of the wagon, ye aves worked hard enough and completed an honorable deed… We must get Tyrun back te the castle and some help as soon as we can”.. the guardsmen take the stretcher as they carry it te the wagon, crashing inte the side.. “Careful you oafs”! The stretcher loaded now with Tyrun and the rangers, mounting Ortex and making haste te the castle….

[Henri the ships boy]

Tiredly Henri looked up to the Ranger… what was his name again? Leettell, or some such… he looked kind, and not at all like Captain Remard had told them the English were. The man spoke with his comrades, and another man with a cart. That man looked imposing, like a noble warrior… Henri was less enthusiastic about him. He could be more like what his Captain described as a typical English, and Henri unconsciously pressed his body closer to the kind Ranger.

“Who is that man? He looks like a mighty knight, he must have killed many. I once saw a knight who could kill three boards at the same time, and many men also. He…” Henri stopped, again recalling the man wouldn#t understand a thing. So instead he simply let himself be carried, once in a while looking over to where the injured Viking lay.

[Sir Joseph]

Wishing the ride would go faster, yet knowing full well the bounces and bumps along the road nae bode well fer Tyruns questionable health. Keeping a smoothe , yet, seemingly tedious pace… dropping back alongside the wagon…Spotting a young stranger jabbering in a Frankish tongue. Es eyes seemingly filled with respect , awe and detecting a fear within

Addressing the Ranger… “Little, whom be ye young friend”? Mah eyes inspecting the lad, his garb more like the French… Little? Ye aves taken a prisoner?

Mah concerned eyes again drift to Tyrun.. Nae afore aves I seen such countless critical wounds…. Tis a miracle he still be alive. Desperately wishing Edfeil twas ere te administer some aid te our fallen friend.. thinks.. OMG Edie & Laurestina shall be in a tizzy when they sees what the French aves done te Tyrun… knowing each precious moment wasted endangers his health.

Trying desperately te increase our pace…. Finally, the castle looms large in the distance. The banners flying in the gentle breeze, lookouts aware of every movement below.. watching as the oaken arches begin te open allowing us passage…riding alongside the wagon.. again turning mah sight te Tyrun….In a comforting concerned tone… Soon mah friend, ye shall aves the help ye needs.

[The Rangers]

*Owen breathed a deep sigh of relief.....they were safe for now...and had help. The others ventured out of the undergrowth and Sir Joseph could then see for himself what they were carrying...a precious cargo they needed desperately to get back to the Castle.

Between them all they settled the stretcher upon the cart and placed themselves around it. They drank from their supplies as the cart wheeled ever nearer home.

Little made Henry as comfortable as he could....all the while smiling at the lad to reassure him. He was relieved to see the gates of Windstorm opening but his pleasure was short lived when Sir Joseph spoke to him. Suddenly he was afraid.....he had come to like the lad.....but he was indeed a prisoner.....too young.....too innocent.....he could not tell the truth.

A glance around to the others before he finally mumbled and shook his head.*

"Nae Sir Joseph.....he be tha nephew of me first wife's brother....who be tha 'usband of Godfery's second cousin ya knows. Visitin 'is Uncle in tha village when all 'ell breaks loose in tha 'arbour.....young 'Enery 'ere jumps in and swims ta safety wiv tha good Captain Tyrun."

*He placed a large hand upon Henry's shoulder and pulled him protectively closer as all the Rangers nodded and muttered their agreement.*