The Kings of Clonmel

1

meant that if Tug were to hear any movement in his vicinity – which in this case meant along the path – he was to freeze in place and make no sound. That, coupled with the gathering darkness, would ensure that no passerby would have the slightest idea that the little horse was just a few metres from the trail.

Gathering his cloak around him, Will moved back to the path. He paused as he reached the edge of the trees, listening both ways for the sound of anyone approaching. Then he quickly crossed the path and slid into the trees on the far side, moving parallel to the track and a few metres inside the tree cover.

An observer, had there been one, might have thought he had seen a grey shadow flit briefly across the open ground and then disappear into the trees. Once that was accomplished, he wouldn't have seen another trace of the silently moving Ranger.

Will regained his previous vantage point and settled down to watch. It had been barely three hours since he had seen the guards take their positions and he reasoned that the original men would still be at their posts. People were creatures of habit, he knew, and the most common term for sentry duty was four hours. Why that was so he had no idea. To his way of thinking, three hours would be a better term. By the end of four hours spent staring into the darkness, most sentries had sunk into lethargy. Of course, a three-hour term meant that more sentries would be needed through the course of the night and, as Will sensed, the posting of guards here was really more of a gesture than anything else. These raiders didn't expect to be attacked or infiltrated.

Which was why he had brought the half bottle of brandy from Duffy's Ford. He touched his inner pocket now to make sure the flask was still there. If he were going to make his way into the enemy camp, he would have to remove one of the guards – probably the one he had observed earlier. Of course, if necessary, he could make his way through the sentry line undetected without resorting to violence. But it would take considerably longer. Unseen movement across an open space like the one that faced him would be a slow and time-consuming business. And he would be silhouetted by the glow of the camp fires behind him.

So the quickest and safest way was to remove one of the sentries, leaving a gap in the screen that he could slip through. But that raised another problem. He didn't want the enemy to know he'd been here and an unconscious sentry was a sure sign that someone had infiltrated the camp.

Unless he was drunk. If a sentry were found reeking of brandy and sleeping peacefully under a tree, no amount of protesting on his part would convince his superiors that he had been attacked.

Will peered into the dark shadows below him now. Earlier, he had noted a few reference points to guide him to the point where the sentry was based. Now he saw a slight movement near that spot. He began moving down the slope towards the level ground, moving crabwise across the slope to bring him out at a point level with the sentry.

There was a constant murmur of conversation from the camp. Occasionally, a burst of laughter or the angry sounds of voices raised in an argument would punctuate thesound. That underlined another reason why Will didn't want to take too long getting inside the sentry line. He wanted to move around the camp while the men were still awake and talking. If he could eavesdrop on their conversations, he might pick up some idea about what they were planning. Once inside the camp, he was confident he could move freely about. Paradoxically, once he was inside, the less he tried to conceal himself the less likely he was to be stopped and questioned. But it was the first hundred metres of clear space between the sentry line and the camp that was the main danger. There was no reason why anyone should be moving towards the camp from that direction. Those inside the tent lines, their eyes dazzled by the fires, would be unlikely to spot him. A sentry, standing in the dark and looking back to the light, could easily see him silhouetted.

He felt the ground levelling under him now and he knew he must be close to the sentry's position. He slipped between the trees like a shadow, making a few more metres. Then he heard the sound of a man clearing his throat and shuffling his feet. He couldn't have been more than ten metres away. Close enough, Will thought. He slid down behind the bole of a tree, keeping its mass between himself and the sentry, wrapped himself in his cloak and settled down to wait.

He was there for the best part of an hour. Unmoving. Silent. Invisible. From time to time he heard the sentry moving about, or coughing. Once or twice, the man yawned, the sound clearly audible in the silence of the trees. The murmur of voices from the camp formed a constant background and Will was grateful for it. When the time came, it would help conceal any small noise he might make.

As he sat there in the darkness, he reflected that this had been the hardest part of his training: schooling yourself to remain unmoving, to resist the sudden urge to scratch an itch or to shift your position to ease a cramped muscle. This was why it was so important to assume a comfortable position in the first place, and to let the body relax completely. Yet there was no such thing as a completely comfortable position – not after you had been in it without moving for more than thirty minutes.

The ground beneath him had seemed soft and resilient when he sat down. He guessed it was formed of a thick mat of fallen leaves. Yet now he was conscious of a twig or a rock digging uncomfortably into his backside. He longed to lean to one side, reach under his backside and remove it but he resisted the urge. Chances are he could do it without making noise. But to do so would be to give in. Then, the next time he felt the urge to shift his position, it would be that much easier to convince himself that it was safe to do so. And the time after that, easier still. The result would be that he would be constantly shifting and, no matter how quietly he managed it, movement was the surest way to be discovered. So he sat without moving. He clenched his fist and concentrated on the pressure on his fingers and the muscles in his forearm to take his mind off the discomfort in his behind. The trick worked, at least for a while. When the twig made its presence felt once again, he bit gently on his lower lip to distract himself from it.

`There you are! Wondered where you'd got to!'

For a brief moment, he thought that the words, spokenso close to him, were actually addressed to him. Then he realised that it was the sentry's relief, speaking to the man who'd been on duty for the past four hours.

Of course, the original sentry had taken a spot under the trees, where he was screened from the rest of the line. The relief must have had difficulty in locating him.

`About time you showed up,' said the original sentry. He sounded slightly aggrieved. Sentries usually did. They all assumed that their relief was late. Will could make out the small sounds of the man gathering his gear together, preparing to return to the camp.

The new man ignored the complaint. 'Not a bad little nook you've got here,' he said.

`Well, it's out of Tully's sight, that's the best thing. And happen it should rain, you'll be sheltered by the trees here.'

Tully, Will assumed, was the sergeant of the guard.

`I'll be off then. What's the grub tonight?' said the first sentry.

`Not too bad at all. The hunters brought in a few deer and some geese. For once the cooks didn't ruin it completely.'

The departing sentry grunted in appreciation. 'Well, I'd best get to it then. I'm famished. Enjoy yourself,' he added sardonically.

'Thanks for your kind thoughts,' his replacement said, matching the tone. The men might be comrades in arms, Will thought, but judging by their respective manners, they weren't friends.

While they had been talking, he had taken advantage of the noise they made to rise and slip closer to them. He wasn't concerned that he'd be seen by either man – his cloak and the surrounding darkness made sure of that. Now he was barely three metres from the new sentry, his face shadowed by the cowl of his cloak and a striker grasped in his right hand. In moving closer, he had. gone in an arc, so that he was behind the sentry. He waited, flattened against a tree, until the departing guard's footsteps had faded away. As he had expected, the new sentry began to make himself comfortable, setting down his gear and checking his sightlines.

The time was now, Will thought, before he had a chance to settle in, while his mind was still distracted by the recent conversation. He risked a glance around the tree. The man was standing with his back to Will. He was armed with a spear and a spiked mace hung at his belt. His cloak was bundled on the ground beside him – presumably he'd don it when the night became colder – and a flask and mug were placed on the ground at the base of a flat rock that stood about a metre high. As Will slipped forward, the man leaned back, resting on the flat rock, his spear in his right hand. He sighed quietly – the sound of a man resigned to four hours of boredom and mild discomfort.

Will hit him hard behind the ear with the striker. The sigh, barely finished, turned to a strangled grunt and the man collapsed sideways off the rock, unconscious. His grasp on the spear was relaxed and it fell in the opposite direction, making barely any noise on the forest floor.

Will stood over the sprawled form for a few seconds, the striker poised, ready for another blow if needed.

But the man was well and truly out. His arms and legs lay at odd angles, indicating a total lack of tension in hismuscles. He should remain this way for at least an hour, Will thought. That should be ample time for him to scout around the camp. He rolled the man over onto his back and, seizing him by the shoulders of his jacket, dragged the lifeless form to a tree. As ever, he marvelled at how heavy a human body could become when it was completely limp like this. He propped the man into a semi-reclining position against the tree, arranged his arms and legs to look as if he were sleeping, then poured the brandy over the front of his jerkin. For good measure, he pried the man's lips apart and sloshed some of the spirit inside his mouth.

He stepped back, eyeing his handiwork. Now, even if the man regained consciousness and raised the alarm, the spilt liquor would tell its own story to his superiors. Tossing the flask down beside the recumbent form, Will gathered his cloak about him and slipped out of the trees into the open space leading to the camp site.

He dropped to the ground and moved in a rapid crawl, dragging himself with his elbows, driving himself forward with his knees. Once he reached the tent lines, he continued to crawl until he was past the first few rows. Then, in the shadowed area between two tents, he rose carefully to his feet and waited for a few seconds.

There was no indication that anyone had noticed him. He slipped back the cowl from his face, stepped out of the shadows and walked casually through the camp towards the large central tent. Noticing a bucket full of water standing outside one tent, he glanced around to see if anyone were observing him. Satisfied that he had aroused no attention, he hastily grabbed the bucket and continued on his way.

A few metres on, he passed three men. Seeing the bucket, they assumed he had gone to fetch water. Always seem to have a purpose, Halt had taught him years ago. If people think there's a reason you're in a place, odds are they won't bother to challenge you.

`Right again, Halt,' he muttered to himself, and continued to make his way further into the camp.