The Kings of Clonmel

Chapter 15

It took the travellers five days to reach the Kingdom of Clonmel.

They travelled first to the coastal village of Selsey, where Halt prevailed upon the head man to provide a boat to take them and their horses across the narrow stretch of sea to Hibernia.

At first Wilfred was less than delighted with the idea. The village and its people had grown used to being independent over the years, and they had little interest in the doings of the outside world. They saw Halt's request as an infringement on this independence and an unwelcome disruption to their normal routine. Halt had to remind him that, although Selsey was not part of any fief, it was still part of Araluen and subject to King Duncan's authority -which he, as a Ranger, represented.

He further pointed out that he had saved part of their fishing fleet from destruction, then prevented the Outsiders from absconding with a considerable amount ofgold, silver and jewellery belonging to the villagers. On top of that, Halt had arranged for an armed party from Redmont to hunt down and arrest the bandits who had been working with Farrell and his group, ensuring the village's continuing safety.

Wilfred eventually, although still grudgingly, conceded the point and provided a boat and crew to ferry them to Hibernia.

They landed on a deserted stretch of beach in the southeast corner of Clonmel, just before first light. The three companions quickly mounted their horses and rode into the woods fringing the beach, out of sight of any possible prying eyes. Will looked back as the trees loomed over them, cloaking them in shadows. The boat was already far offshore, the sail no more than a pale speck among the dark waves as her skipper headed back out to sea, wasting no time getting back to the fishing grounds.

Halt saw the direction of his gaze.

`Fishermen,' he said. 'All they ever think of is their next catch.'

`They were a friendly lot,' Horace said. In fact, the sailors had hardly addressed an unnecessary word to their passengers. 'I'm not sorry to be off that tub.'

Halt concurred with the thought, although not entirely for the same reason. As always, his stomach had betrayed him once the boat had left the calm waters of the harbour and begun to plunge and roll on the open sea. The all-pervading smell of stale fish guts hadn't helped matters, either. He had spent the greater part of the voyage standing in the bow of the boat, his face pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the railing. His two young companions, familiar with his problem, decided the best course was to ignore it and leave Halt to his own devices. From past experience, they knew that any show of sympathy would lead to a snarl of dismissal. And any sign of amusement would lead to far worse.

They rode into the wood, soon crossing a path. It was a narrow, winding game trail and there was no way to ride abreast. They rode in single file, following Halt's lead as he headed north-west.

`What now, Halt?' Will asked. He was riding second in line behind his teacher. The grey-bearded Ranger twisted in his saddle to reply.

`We'll head towards Ferris's castle, Dun Kilty. It's maybe a week's ride from here. That'll give us a chance to see how things are in Clonmel.'

It soon became apparent that things in Clonmel were far from good. The game trail meandered haphazardly and eventually led them to a broader, more permanent high road. As they followed it, they began to see farmlands interspersed with the woods. But the fields were untended and overgrown with weeds, and the farmhouses they saw were shuttered and silent, with the farmyard entrances barricaded by wagons and hay bales, so they resembled improvised armed camps.

`Looks like they're expecting trouble,' Will said as they passed by one such collection of farm buildings.

`Looks like they've already had it,' Halt replied, pointing to the blackened remains of one of the outbuildings, where a pile of ashes and collapsed timbers were still smouldering. They could also make out the huddled shapes of several dead animals in the fields. Ravensperched on the swollen carcasses, tearing chunks out of the rank flesh with their sharp beaks.

`You'd think they'd have buried or burnt those carcasses,' Horace said. He wrinkled his nose as the breeze brought the unpleasantly sweet smell of rotting flesh to them.

`If they're afraid to go out to plough and plant, they're hardly going to expose themselves to bury a few dead sheep,' Halt told him.

`I suppose not. But what are they afraid of?'

Halt eased his backside from the saddle, standing for a few seconds in the stirrups before resuming his seat.

`At a guess, I'd say they're hiding from this character Tennyson – or at least, from the bandits that work with him. The whole place seems like a country under siege.'

The farms and smaller hamlets that they passed all exhibited the same evidence of fear and suspicion. Wherever possible the three Araluans bypassed them, remaining unseen.

`No point in revealing our presence,' Halt said. But by midmorning of the second day, his curiosity was beginning to nag at him, and when they sighted a small hamlet of five ramshackle houses grouped together, he jerked a thumb towards it.

`Let's go and ask the price of eggs,' he said. Horace frowned at the words as Halt led the way out of the trees and along the road that led to the hamlet.

`Do we need eggs?' he asked Will.

Will grinned at him. 'Figure of speech, Horace.' Horace nodded, assuming a knowing expression just a little too late. 'Oh… yes. I sort of knew that. Sort of.'

They urged their horses after Abelard, catching up when they were fifty metres short of the hamlet. This was the closest they'd been to one of these silent groups of buildings and as they grew closer they could see the rough palisade that had been thrown around it in more detail. Farm carts and ploughs were formed in a circle around the hamlet. The gaps between were piled with old furniture -benches and tables – and the remaining gaps were filled with hurriedly constructed earthworks and spare timber. Halt raised his eyebrows at the sight of one table, a family heirloom that had been lovingly polished and waxed over the years, now shoved roughly on its side into a gap in the defences.

`Must be dining al fresco these days,' he said softly.

Seen closer to, they also realised that the hamlet was far from deserted. They could make out movement now behind the barricade. Several figures were moving to group together at the point they were heading for. At least one of them seemed to be wearing a helmet. The midmorning sun gleamed dully off it. As they watched, the man clambered up onto a wagon that obviously served as a gate through the barricade. He was wearing a leather coat, studded with metal. It was a cheap and primitive form of armour. In his right hand, he brandished a heavy spear. There was nothing cheap or primitive about it. Like the helmet, it reflected the sun's rays.

`Someone's been sharpening his spear,' Horace observed to his friends. Before they could reply, the spearman called out to them.

`On your way!' he yelled roughly. 'You're not welcome here!'

To reinforce the statement, he brandished the spear. Several of the other occupants growled in agreement and the three travellers saw other weapons waving above the barricade. Several swords, an axe and a selection of farm implements like scythes and sickles.

`We mean you no harm, friend,' Halt called back. He leaned his elbows on the saddle pommel and smiled encouragingly at the man. They were too far away for the farmer to see the expression, but he knew the body language was non-threatening and he hoped the smile would soften his tone of voice.

`Well, we'll mean you plenty if you come any further!'

While Halt parleyed, Will was studying the barricade intently, particularly the weapons that appeared sporadically to be waved threateningly above the top. After a few seonds, he saw a small figure pass a behind a narrow gap in the defences, followed by another, heading for the left-hand end. A few seconds later, weapons were being brandished at that position. He noticed that none were now visible at the right-hand end, where a few minutes ago they had been waving energetically.

`Halt,' he said out of the corner of his mouth, 'there aren't as many of them as they'd like us to think. And some of them are either women or children.'

`I thought as much,' the Ranger replied. 'That's why they don't want us any closer, of course.' He spoke again to the spearman. 'We're simple travellers, friend. We'll pay well for a hot meal and a tankard of ale.'

`We don't want your money and you're not getting our food. Now be on your way!'

There was a note of desperation in his voice, Halt thought, as if any moment the man expected the three armed riders to call his bluff. Halt knew then that Will was right and the majority of 'defenders' behind the barricade were women and children. There was no reason, the Ranger concluded, to cause them any further concern. Things seemed bad enough in this part of the country anyway.

`Very well. If you say so. But can you tell us if there's an inn anywhere close by? We've been on the road for some time.'

There was a slight pause, then the man answered.

`There's the Green Harper, at Craikennis. It's west of here, less than a league. Mayhap you'll find a place there. Follow the road you're on to the crossroads and you'll find a sign.'

The farmer was obviously glad to be able to direct them somewhere else, and an inn would tend to denote a larger settlement – a village or even a small town. Such a place might be less likely to turn strangers away. Halt waved in farewell.

`Thanks for the advice, friend. We'll bother you no further.'

There was no reply. The man remained standing on the cart, his spear in hand, as they turned their horses and began to trot away. After a hundred metres or so, Will twisted round in his saddle.

`Still watching us,' he said.

Halt grunted. 'I'm sure he'll keep doing so till we're out of sight. And then worry half the night that we might turn back after dark and try to surprise him.' He shook his head sadly. Horace noticed the action.

I tied man,' he said.

`That's one frightene looked at him. 'Very frightened. And fear is the Outsiders' most potent ally. I think we're starting to get an idea of what we're up against.'

They rode on and came to the road sign directing them to Craikennis. The fact that there was a road sign, and that the place actually had a name, all pointed to the possibility that it was a larger settlement. Still, Halt wanted to avoid the sort of non-welcome they had just received.

`I think we might split up,' he said. 'The sight of three armed men might be a bit daunting for people in this area, and I don't want to be unceremoniously thrown out before we get in. Will, you've got that lute of yours, haven't you?'

Will had long ago given up trying to tell Halt that his instrument was a mandola. And in any case, Halt's question was a rhetorical one. Will always carried the instrument with him and he'd played it around their camp fire the night before.

'Yes. Do you want me to become a travelling minstrel?' He'd foreseen where Halt's thinking was heading. There was something un-threatening about a travelling musician.

Halt nodded. 'Yes. For some reason, people tend to trust a minstrel.'

`And of course, this one has such a trustworthy face,' Horace put in with a grin. Halt looked at him for a few seconds in silence.

`Quite so,' he said at length. 'We'll find a place to camp, then you go in ahead of us and start up some singing. Horace and I will slip in while everyone's watching you. Book a room at the inn. That's what you'd usually do, isn't it?'

Will nodded. `It's the normal thing for an entertainer to ask for a room – or a bed in the barn if the inn's full.'

`You do that, then. We'll have a meal and listen around to see what we can find out. Then we'll go back to the camp. See if you can get any information from the innkeeper but don't look too nosy. We'll compare notes tomorrow morning.'

Will nodded. 'Sounds simple enough.' A grin stole over his face. He knew Halt had a total lack of interest in music. `Any requests for tonight?'

His old teacher looked at him for a long moment. `Anything but Greybeard Halt,' he said.

Horace clicked his tongue in disappointment. 'That's one of my favourites.'

Halt regarded the two grinning young faces.

`Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to regret agreeing to this Task Group?' he said.