Avarice Desperation Valley Book 1

Ambush

The first watcher had reigned in his tired, lathered horse just before midnight. Its hooves slipping and clattering on the cobbled courtyard. Bennett and his followers already on their feet, crowding the skittish animal and its rider. Stephan appearing from his home just as suddenly, accompanied by his house guard. 

"The Wolf Lord is on the move," the exhausted messenger could barely get out.

"How many?" Bennett questioned. The horse danced about under its rider in tight circles, tossing its head, wild eyed.

"About thirty, all mounted, heavily armored, and he is with them, riding out front." The statement came with difficulty as the man fought to control his restless mount in the tight crush of the crowd. "No foot soldiers, and no archers, just his horse that's all."

At this there was an audible sigh of relief from many of Stephan's people who had braved the chill, windy darkness, leaving the warmth of house and hearth to hear the latest news of their foe. Bennett raised his hand to quiet the crowd, sensing their careless abandon, wanting every man there to face the harsh reality of the present situation. 

"The war is not yet won." He reminded them sternly. "Not until I have Lothar's scalp!" 

Stephan grimaced at this comment, as did many others there. By now he secretly loathed this bully of a man that he was forced to suffer in his midst. However Bennett's own men went wild, their joy at the impending confrontation showing them for the bloodthirsty savages they really were.

"Let's move out without delay, our enemy should reach the pass by early morning. You all know your positions and the battle plan. So let's go!" 

With that he dismissed the milling crowd, singling out the messenger who by this time had dismounted and had handed the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy. Before the exhausted man could take his rest, Bennett further queried him on many points, Stephan as well, just to be doubly sure of the enemy's strength before the hour of confrontation came.

After the messenger was dismissed the two head men conferred for a time, Stephan revealing to Bennett that this was indeed a small show of force on Lothar's behalf. He believed that his enemy's army contained at least thirty archers, and some fifty foot soldiers, besides the mounted knights that were on their way. Despite this Bennett was pleased, to him deposing the head man was all that mattered, sure that with Lothar's death he would earn the right to rule in his stead.

*****

The ambush was in place shortly before the light of dawn broke the gloom, all preparations had gone smoothly and to plan. A blustery south westerly wind was on the rise, this would further aid their cause, they would hear Lothar's approach early, and it would serve to render his force deaf to their presence. Messengers were constantly arriving now to report on the enemy's progress and it was clear that they were definitely heading this way, due to arrive as predicted sometime before mid morning.

Under the command of Will, Stephan's men, twenty or so, selected as they were unskilled in the use of weapons, waited concealed on the escarpments above, ready for the moment when the knights would be far enough down the valley that they could launch their deadly tons of rock. Further on toward the valley's more constricted end Renard had under his command thirty or so archers, their task to prevent anyone pressing through under their hail of missiles, forcing them to retreat back the way they had come.

As emergency back up, standing at the ready some ten grim faced spear men, the last line of defense. The best and bravest of Stephan's untried force waited beneath Renard's position, as protection for the archers ranged above. There in the eventuality that the worst was to happen and someone did break through their lines. All delegated hoping this would not eventuate as theirs would be the most difficult and dangerous of tasks. None among them wishing to witness the sight of a fully armored, sword wielding knight on a ton of horse flesh, bearing down on them as they held a spear braced in their hands, hoping for the best.