Chapter I, Part I

Chapter I Follows the Archer Tom Hugger in his early days in New Gloucester

Chapter I

 

The road between Newport and North’s End, New Gloucester

Autumnus Minor, 1321 a.u.c

A contingent of three-hundred men led by Captain Walter Talbot marched through the dark forests of New Gloucester. Lord Governor Eric Glandias had sent these men to answer the pleas for reinforcements to quell a potential uprising North Beyond The Wall from the acting commander, John Scottman, or more commonly known as The Lord Preston. The three hundred men consisted of one hundred and twenty men-at-arms and around one hundred and eighty archers, departing from Newport not long ago. In that army was an archer by the name of Tom Hugger. He was a native of Preston in the isle of Walleck, which was divided into two halves: one half ruled by the Union of Woad Clans under King Robert, and the other by Gloucester, governed by Lord John of House Scottman, a prominent family in the Gloucesterian Court. But the King loved to send one of his relatives to help govern the island, to make the Scottmans less powerful; already having a large fief in the mainland and holding a stronghold in New Gloucester, the Scottmans would probably be the strongest family next to the king’s family, The Lionswords. Back home, Tom was a woodcutter, but here, he was an archer. And an archer's life he had lived, too. For three years he had served under the banners of many lords, and in his first year he was a mercenary sent to The Southern Continent;

So Tom Hugger was a farmer’s son like most archers. He trained with the longbow from the age of ten, and trained and trained every day until he could pull the giant war bow up to the ear and shoot accurately without aiming, thus was the way a longbowman- an archer- shot. He did not aim, but he felt the arrow.

The contingent had been marching for tens of miles in four days, and they were now only a day's march away from North's End., but they had to face the final and most dangerous obstacle: The Forest. The three-hundred-strong force were mounted to increase marching speed and flexibility with the army headed by archers, the men-at-arms in the middle and flanks and the other half of archers on the rearguard.

The landscape of New Gloucester near North’s End was an unkept collection of hills and woods. Hugger was frightened by the large trees on his left and right, for they were larger than any tree he had seen. In Preston the trees were simple and light-branched, but here some of the trees could be as wide as a small cottage! Sunlight was also scarce in that forest, for the trees’ high branches flew over them and their leaves covered them form the sunlight.

“Damn. These trees are big…” Said a man next to him, a fellow farm boy-turned-archer named Liam Galloway. He had curly hair and a bad nose, opposed to Hugger’s straight black-brown hair and straight, broken nose. Liam was skinny but his arms were as strong as any archer would be. “Bloody picts” said another archer. His accent was a twisted, sailor’s accent- hard and quick and curvy. His arms were large and strong as an archer’s arms should. The man was big too, and strong, seemingly hardened by countless voyages through the cold northern seas. “They could ambush us any second now. The b******s”

“No chance, Roberts” another man joined, calling to the large man. His face was scarred and experienced… gray and cold. His voice was husky but friendly “The picts are all North o' The Wall. No chance they’d be here south of it.”

“Really, sir?” said the man called Roberts.

“Yes. Eyes on the road now, heh?”

Then why were we sent North. Hugger thought.

Hugger stayed silent. He didn’t like talking a lot, nor did he enjoy the dark shades of the forest. The men were all dressed in Lord John Preston’s liveries: a stripe diagonalling a sewn shield on a dark blue background. Most men had mail, and the men-at-arms, carrying a variety of weapons, ranging from sword to mace to poleaxe. Men-at-arms had plate, but their plate armour was with the baggage so they wouldn’t be so encumbered while marching through a safe countryside. Some men were veterans of the initial invasion of Pictland ten years ago, and so advised their juniors to wear mail coats on the march. The Picts were the masters of the ambush, and most men heeded that warning. Even though there was an eight-meter-tall wall all along the border, it was still, very dangerous ‘inside’ the wall.

Hugger enjoyed the cool breeze of the trees. But suddenly he saw movement on the bushes afar. His sight was dimmed by the terrible lighting within the forest, but he kept on. “Ventenar!” he called to the experienced man, who turned to Hugger. “What is it, boy? You see something? A ventenar led a group of twenty archers, and answered to a centenar who himself led one hundred archers. A group of two centenaries were led by a knight or a captain, but usually two centenars collaborated with each other. Mostly when there was no captain a lord could lead the archers himself, but most of the time managing archers and men-at-arms at the same time was troublesome; and therefore the archers needed an archer to lead them, and that was the centenar.

“We got something in the bushes.” the archer nodded to the bush that moved.

“Probably a rabbit” said the ventenar. “Good work there, Tom. Keep a good eye on the sides. But stay calm. Nothing’s here.” And the man shifted away back towards his position in the long line.

Hugger was a bit calmed by the ventenar, but he still and always had a large doubt that no enemy was south of the wall. Ventenar Snow liked to hide things, especially his opinions. As they marched Hugger kept thinking about what he saw. He was sure he saw something... But blast. Best to ignore it.

Captain Walter Talbot, an experienced man-at-arms, was also weary of Pictish presence in the south. He sent two men to scout the area ahead. “Scan the area quick” the staunch man said. “If you see anything " or anyone " get back here, quick. Tell me what you see” the two riders nodded to his words. "Yes, captain"

“Very well. God Speed with you” Talbot said. The two horsemen were dressed in mail and surcoat, and on their head they wore mail coifs. Bascinets were slung around their backs along with their shields, and on their waists were castle-forged swords fit for slashing and thrusting from horseback.

“Sir!” the two replied, turned around, and soon went into canter through the dirt road carved through the woods.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this” said a lieutenant, who was on his flank.

“So do I.” said Talbot. “I ain’t got good experiences with the woods”

“What happens if something happens?”

“Well,” “We fight. Ain’t that what soldiers do?” He took his horse to a walk, leaving the lieutenant nodding into approval. The lieutenant’s name was Sir James Shaw. A young man in his mid-twenties, he used to be military steward to The Lord Preston. Unlike Talbot he was of knightly class, and Lord John sent him to earn military experience as second-in-command. He wore the coat-of-arms of his Lord’s, while Talbot wore Glandias’ white sword on green.

Glandias, Lionswords, and Scottmans had a prominent presence of troops in New Gloucester. Garrisons were erected all over the island. New Gloucester wasn’t a proper settling land for the mainlanders yet… It’s frontiers were still dangerous. Bandits, insurgents, trespassers from Beyond The Wall… They were all there. Nearly half of the Gloucesterian army was there on that island, but their numbers did not change a lot of things. Levels of unrest were high and rebellions in the smaller settlements were more than potential.

Not long after, the scouts returned, explaining that the road they passed were clear and safe for passage.

“Nobody? Asked Talbot to one of the scouts. He was a slim man with a long face and a beard slightly more than a stubble. And those daring brown eyes. A scoer over his and scratched breastplate indicated his experience.

“No, captain” said the scout, dressed in Scottman’s striped shield. He was a man-at-arms. Most of the three-hundred were Scottman’s men.

“Villages? Settlements? Fallen Trees?” the scout shook his head. “Movement?” the captain asked again.

“None, sir. Erect trees... Deer… A straight road”

“Any food we could easily take?” asked Sir James, who was next to him.

“We can tell the archers to hunt for deer” Talbot cut, and turned to the scouts. “Good work, then. Return to formation”

“Aye, sir, thank ye, sir” the scout leader said. Then he wheeled his stallion round and went back into line. “Isn’t it a bit too quiet for you, Sir James?” said Talbot, to the younger man.

“Somehow, yes” The young man answered.

“I bet the b******s are shadowing us.” He looked to the tree lines, and turned away. Sir James followed.

The army was marching.

And he was right.