In my defense to you, the sensitive readers of the 21st Century, I was living in a different world—with different morals and views about violence. So let's make it clear: in this place violence is everywhere and it is normal.
Yet, to quote a certain purple-suited psychopath, that doesn't mean you should do it without the necessary remuneration when you show a remarkable propensity for the skill.
So it should come as no surprise to say that Arthur was more than willing to negotiate.
"What do you mean…'quit'?" he said warily, when I'd managed to corner him in his office a couple of days after the Batavians had arrived. The governor was due in three days' time and everyone was in a state of high anxiety, since the attack could happen at any time.
"Just that. I've been working for free and I need money to fund my future efforts, so I think it's high time I stop this 'charity' malarkey and sell my services to someone who appreciates them."
Arthur looked like I was describing a very painful dental procedure, but as he opened his mouth to argue, I raised an eyebrow in challenge and waited expectantly. His mighty shoulders sagged and he looked at the month's accounts report in front of him. I had spent all night on it and was pleased to see that the figures were all present and correct. I had suffered a mountain of paperwork upon my return from Eboracum.
But for now… can you say 'blackmail'?
"And yet…" Arthur's voice was struggling against the defeat in his eyes. "You're supposed to be a slave."
"I'm sorry Arthur, but it has to be this way."
"Isn't there something else I could offer you?"
"Well my fee could be reduced…" I said slowly, as if with the utmost reluctance. "If you might throw the permanent wholesale loan of Sarakos and one of the empty rooms into the bargain, I might be able to find it within myself to reduce my very generous fee to… say…" I pursed my lips and stared at the ceiling as if in strenuous calculation, "two thirds?"
"Of a knight's wages?"
"Per annum, ad eternum, amen." I intoned, putting my hands together in prayer and smiling down at Arthur's stricken countenance. "This is what must be sacrificed for the services rendered—consider it 'back-pay' for the initiative I have shown thus far."
I was being rather… harsh, yes. But motivated by purely practical needs. I knew that I must have appeared like a denizen of hell to the military commander, but I wasn't done yet; there was still one more thing that had to be done. I had half-turned away before checking, as if remembering something. "Oh, there is one other matter…"
Arthur was now starting to look slightly vexed. "Yes?"
"I was hoping to introduce a fascinating concept to you—it's called 'over-time'…"
And that is how I managed to negotiate extra pay for Tristan, Kahedin and myself for our extra self-imposed duties of scouting and counter-sabotage. Supremely smug and humming a tune, I spent the rest of the day doing chores and observing the training before retiring to my room.
Horses have been seen to, the arrows have been fletched, the knives have been sharpened, the laundry has been put away… and I did it all by myself because I'm the boss. I thought smugly as I snuggled under my blankets. I idly listened to the chatter filtering up from below, wondering if tomorrow would hold further crazed macho posturing and general alpha male madness. Well, I was now living in close proximity to nearly forty compulsive show-offs with horses and impressive weapons and skills. Despite all the work, it had been another fun day—sitting on the wall of the fort with some lunch and watching the Sarmatians and Batavians scream at each other about horsemanship.
And like most people who are in service to another, I work inhumanly long hours that start early in the morning. So when I'm woken in the middle of the night by unknown (possibly supernatural) forces, someone had better be dying…
Sometimes it's sad how I can be so perfectly right.
I awoke for no apparent reason in the middle of the night, but my 'spidey senses' were going haywire—it felt as if I'd been electrocuted. Unable to ignore the feeling, I climbed out of my bed (and that's the best part of this incident—I finally had my own room) and went to the window. Without bothering to light a lamp, I silently eased back the blinds (I oiled the hinges religiously) and peered out.
Nothing.
Not a good enough reason to calm down. I decided to take a proper look, so I got dressed all in black (the coloured clothes were slowly being filtered out of my meagre wardrobe), and armed myself to the teeth—literally piling on as much as I could. After pulling on my soft-soled boots, the weight of everything made me wonder if it was a good idea, but if things were about to kick off then I needed it all. I slung my bow across my back and grimaced slightly as I climbed out of the window and up onto the roof. I crouched in the shadows and waited, listening intently and scanning the area.
Still nothing.
This wasn't acceptable. But neither would be rousing the cavalry for a false alarm. Maybe my nerves were too shot after months of tension… but until I'd done a full sweep of the fort, I wasn't going to sleep. Wrapping a scarf around my nose and mouth to obscure the condensation of my breath, I moved out in a spiral pattern across the roofs, taking care to check the supplies that I'd squirrelled away on various rooftops as I slowly edged outwards toward the walls. As I passed over the southern barracks, I heard whispers.
Well, well… little boys up past their bedtime. I was almost directly above them and could easily see the glint of moonlight off blades. Lots of blades.
Thank you 'spidey senses' for your trouble detection abilities. I mentally crowed, punching a fist into the air as I tip-toed back to where I'd seen the knights' who were patrolling that night: Dagonet and Lancelot.
I dropped from the eaves with barely a whisper on the dry ground and heard Lancelot gasp loudly. I raised my hands, "Just me," I whispered, hurrying up to them and tugging down my scarf so they could see my face.
"Why are you awake?" Dagonet asked.
"Couldn't sleep. Oh, and it's starting."
"What's starting?" Lancelot said.
I looked at him incredulously and he immediately caught up. "Oh! Right—" he would have started towards the trouble if Dagonet hadn't caught his arm.
"We'll go back and silently wake the others," he said to me—thank god at least one of these Sarmatians had brains. "You should go and get the Batavians ready."
I nodded and pointed back to the southern barracks. "That's where I saw them, so head the other way before doubling back to the stables, alright? They looked… keen."
"We'll be in full armour soon enough," Lancelot said reassuringly as I tugged the scarf over my nose and mouth again.
"Create barricades and sequester the civilians by one of the gates, in case you need to run for it." I advised—we had already prepared some carts with supplies and medical kits in case we were forced to abandon our position and retreat to Eboracum.
Dagonet was nodding, but I could see that Lancelot would rather rout the rebels than run away. Fine, power to him—I had other things to worry about. After begging a boost from Dagonet back up onto the roof, I made my way to the gutter of the medical bay and collected a failsafe stash of arrows wrapped in oilcloth nestled against the chimney. Then I cross the rooftops to the wall and began to edge my way long the battlements, heading for the eastern gate—closest to the Batavian camp. Behind me, the revolt was in full swing as the rebels progressed and I noticed that the guards on the gate hadn't moved, but were calmly watching the mounting chaos inside the fort. Crap. That meant that they were also seditionists. In full armour. With spears.
I unslung my bow and selected three arrows, holding them in my left hand with my bow as I crept forward on my toes. I prayed that the knights' brutal training regimen had paid off as I nocked the first arrow… I couldn't afford to miss.
The first man fell, gurgling and writhing from the arrow in his throat, the others were suddenly on their guard, looking around. I calmly readied my bow again and let fly. At this distance, it glanced off the soldier's helmet with an almighty clang, but it did the job of scrambling his wits for a moment. That gave me time to shoot number three in the knee. No sense in being sporting about these things. I put down my bow and arrows and charged, leaping over the dead man to land a solid palm heel strike on the second man's chin. As he stumbled back, I pulled a dirk from its sheath on my leg and dragged it across his throat in a reverse grip slash, tugging hard to sever tendons and windpipe in one go. Blood washed over my bare hands, hot and slick so that I almost lost my grip as I spun round to kick the crippled soldier in the head. I then leaned down and stabbed him in the neck, severing the aorta. This time, I was out of the way as the blood gushed out in a torrent and was able to stay relatively clean. I knew that I was already a bit splattered, but there was no time to worry about that now.
Glancing down at the gates, I realised with a familiar sinking feeling that there was no way I could get them open by myself… I'd have to improvise. I went to look out at the Batavian camp and saw that the men were already gearing up.
Well at least they had that much efficiency.
I removed the short coil of rope that I'd slung over my back and tied it to the oilskin cloth I'd been carrying my arrows in. Then I fastened it to the battlements and climbed down the outside of the wall, being forced to drop the last ten feet. I ran over to the Batavians already assembled, they caught sight of me far too late (and I don't know if it's because I'm that good, or they hadn't let their vision adjust to the darkness).
"Whoa!"
"Halt!"
"Who the fuck are you?"
Several spears were levelled at me. I showed them my face. "I need to see Aquinas now!"
"Oh. It's you." The spears inched closer. They recognised me alright. Did I forget to mention how unpopular I was with the Batavians?
The itch, the urge to kill was almost too strong to bear. Instead, I resorted to fixing them with my signature glare. They flinched obligingly.
"This isn't the time to pick a fight. Although you're welcome to try later after we've suppressed this minor upheaval."
That did the trick. While hatred and nervousness flared in the men, a much more experienced soldier came up and smiled at me. "We know who you are."
"Good, I need seven men to scale the wall so we can open the gates. Others can bring their horses along."
"Climb the wall?" one said incredulously. "In full armour? You must be mad, boy."
I shot him a disgusted look. "Okay, that's one idiot who can't come! And here I thought the Batavian party trick was to swim across rivers in full armour with their horses. Clearly I was mistaken. Nevertheless, if you want those gates open I need seven volunteers right now!"
I got them and they looked a little apprehensive. They also brought a far longer rope with them, which I would attach to the battlements once I'd gone back up the wall again. After reaching my own rope by standing on their leader's shoulders, that is.
When we were all finally on the battlements, I told them to get the gate open as quickly as possible, so that we could establish a strong point at the exit before pushing inwards. With any luck the rebels would scatter rather than face two heavily armoured cavalry units. It wasn't a perfect plan, but then this was hardly a perfect situation. We'd have to improvise, but with any luck they'd disband or surrender quickly.
I felt myself start to smile, and I couldn't stop. Even when I tried my hardest, the smile grew until the Batavians who had got the gate open were starting to look at me strangely. I couldn't do anything but shrug and as soon as Aquinas stormed into the fort, the Batavians were hit by a cohort of surprisingly organised rebels. I accompanied the Batavians on foot, having no time or opportunity to get back to the rooftops.
Snatching out a dirk and my sword, I hurled myself into the fray, ducking under the first man's blow and stabbing the next incomer in the thigh. He fell and I spun round, slashing him in the backs of his knees before hastily leaning out of the way of a powerful overhead swing from another man. And so it continued… muscles straining, breath coming in short gasps as my eyes flicked to and fro, constantly twisting and turning to keep myself alive in a mêlée of flashing steel, shoving bodies and the most terrific din. I was almost trampled underfoot and was only saved from a hideous 'death-by-hobnail-boots' by a Batavian who recognised me and grabbed the back of my belt with one hand and lifted me into the air. Scrubbing the blood from my face, I gave him a nod of thanks and we settled into a back-to-back whirlwind of death as we fought our way to the Batavians' lines. There, Aquinas grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a merciless shaking, roaring a lecture on 'teamwork' as his men pushed further into the fort all around us. They were creating barricades as they went to consolidate the fort, but it turned out that I had blasted into rebels and had been creating havoc somewhere in the seventh line. This meant that they had been able to follow the chink I'd created in the rebel formation and start a proper rout.
I had no idea I had done that, but apparently the immediate area around the gate had been cleared. We gathered up the prisoners and the wounded and began a determined push into the fort's centre. Aquinas decided to join forces with the Sarmatians, so after using my final arrow, I decided to relay the message to Arthur and see if these two hero-types would get seriously competitive and try to defeat the enemy single-handed. Finally snatching the opportunity to get up onto the rooftops, I ran full tilt to the central Sarmatian barracks.
I arrived to see the knights had barricaded themselves inside, which also contained the treasury, the archives and Arthur's personal quarters. Clearly they hadn't had the luxury of time to ride out and take the fight to the enemy. Not wasting another moment, I immediately went back to the Batavians.
"They're trapped in the barracks!" I yelled at Aquinas, who was securing the latest barricade.
"So? I'm sure they can sit back and make silly faces at the soldiers through the bars." Aquinas replied breezily.
"Don't be an idiot—we need to get them out of there."
"Oh alright, you are a fierce one, aren't you?" He grinned at me. "Never realised Arthur was hiding such a tiger in the ranks."
"Ha! See you at the barracks!" I called, already running for the nearest rooftop. I was exhausted, my muscles were cramping and I had an almighty stitch under my ribs and I was bleeding from at least half a dozen shallow wounds on my arms, shoulders and legs. I also hadn't slept properly in at least two days.
How much longer could I keep going?