“Twice our number at least,” Banhael grunted, “but what does that matter? A lord will always have more soldiers at his call than I will have bandits, and trained warriors, too, every one of them!”
“Then train your men,” Gar retorted. “I can see they’re skilled archers already. How many bands are there in this forest? A dozen? A score?”
“Only two or three like ours,” Banhael countered, “large enough to build huts and care for children. But there are sixteen others that I know of, though most are only half a dozen men who scrabble for a living.”
“Perhaps two hundred men in all,” Gar summarized. “And there are a dozen forests in this land of yours…”
“Twelve?” Banhael looked up, startled.
“Fourteen, actually,” Dirk told him.
Coll stared. How did two men from so far away, who were so ignorant of this land in every other way, know what even he himself didn’t? And so sure of it, too!
“If there are as many men in each of those forests as there are here,” Gar told him, “you’ll have twenty-five hundred men and more. Not a great number, no, but enough to win a few battles, if you fight like outlaws, not soldiers.”
“Like outlaws?” Banhael scowled. “How do you mean?”
“Soldiers fight by lining up in an open field, then charging at each other. Outlaws fight by leaping out from behind trees, striking a blow or loosing an arrow, then leaping back.”
“Oh, that way!” Banhael said in surprise. “Well, of course. But how do you hide behind a tree in an open field?”
“You find what you can—a ditch, a barn, a bush, or even bring some greenery with you. But why should you fight in a field?”
“Because that’s where the soldiers are!”
Gar shook his head. “Let them stand there alone all day, while you wait for them among the trees. If you wait long enough, they’ll either go away or come in after you.”
“Why, so they will, won’t they?” Banhael said, wide-eyed. “But what good does that do if you’re trying to take a village from its lord?”
“There, you send the villagers to the forest, and have your men hide behind the huts—or hide in the forest yourselves, and chop the soldiers to bits when they come in after you. Then you take the village.”
Banhael guffawed, slapping his knee. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you? But how can an outlaw fight a soldier, man to man, and win, eh? The soldier is trained to it! ”
“As I’ve already told you.” Gar spread his hands. “Train your men as well.”
“Easy to say.” Banhael scowled. “How do you do it?”
“Let me show you.” Gar rose and stepped out into the center of the village clearing. “Bring me a dozen men.” Banhael smiled, wide and wolfish. “Wawn! Brock! Lod! Ang! Bring each three men with you, and go to Sir Gar there.”
Coll stared as the men lined up facing one another as Gar gave them directions. Did the giant really know what he was doing, know what pack of hounds he was unleashing? Coll didn’t doubt for a minute that Banhael would take all Earl Insol’s lands if he could—and everything considered, Coll wasn’t all that sure that he wouldn’t rather be ruled by Earl Insol than by Banhael.
Lord Banhael? He shuddered at the thought, and watched Gar’s fighting lessons with misgiving. He was teaching them to use quarterstaves as spears, Coll saw, and knew that soon enough, these expert staff fighters would be the equal of any soldier who knew a spear only as a stabbing weapon. If Gar went on to teach them how to use their swords properly, could this ragtag batch of escaped serfs really challenge a lord’s army and win?
Yes, if the army weren’t too big. But the lords had far more soldiers than the forests had outlaws, even if all the bandits could be made to obey one single lord. Coll relaxed. Training these outlaws might make trouble for the lords on their own estates, but would scarcely overthrow them.
Why, then, was Gar training them?
Then Coll noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching the training. The other outlaws were gathering around, watching the session with keen interest …
… and so was Dicea.
She sat a short distance away from Coll, watching the training with shining eyes—no, Coll saw, watching Gar! He looked again at her face, the glowing smile, the fluttering lashes, and felt his heart sinking deeper. He tried to console himself with the notion that if she was smitten with both Gar and Dirk, she couldn’t be interested enough in either one to be terribly hurt—but it really wasn’t much comfort at all; he loved his sister dearly, but he didn’t doubt for a minute that she was quite capable of being in love with two men at the same time—or, well, not with the men, exactly, so much as with the idea of being a knight’s lady.
If she was, she was doomed to disappointment. Coll gazed at his sister, feeling his heart twist, and hoped that she could learn to guard her feelings as well as the outlaws were learning to guard their bodies.
Coll had known it would be inevitable that Gar would call upon him to demonstrate his combined spear-and-quarterstaff skills, then put him to work helping train the men in the new sort of unarmed combat he was teaching them, where feet counted for as much as fists, and open hands chopped like hatchets. In particular, Coll had learned how to shift from punching to wrestling with the tricks Dirk had shown him, and he was far enough ahead of the outlaws to do some real teaching. After two days, Coll was amazed at the outlaws’ change in attitude. The women had taken Mama and Dicea to their hearts from the first, of course, but the men began to be friendly with Coll, chatting and inviting him to practice his archery with them. They were impressed by his skill there, too, and by the second day, they were joking and gossiping with him as though they were old friends.
Still, they made no attempt to hide the lustful glances they gave Dicea, and Coll knew better than to try to stop her from flirting with every man in sight—it seemed as natural to her as breathing, and he wasn’t always sure she knew she was doing it. These woman-hungry lust buckets didn’t understand that, though, and Coll braced himself for the fight he knew was coming.
Before it did, he found he was going.
On the morning of the third day, Gar declared, “They know enough now to pull themselves together, and draw in more bands.”
“Read: take over,” Dirk said.
Gar shrugged. “Banhael’s band already has enough reputation to pull in recruits of their own accord, especially when winter comes. The next convoy a lord sends through the forest will never reach its destination, and Banhael’s band will grow in reputation. The other bands may not join up, but they’ll do what he says.”
“Is this truly a good thing?” Coll asked.
“Good enough for our purposes,” Gar said, but didn’t explain. “Time for us to move along and spread the word that the lords can be beaten.”
“But isn’t that a lie?” Coll protested.
“Oh, no,” Dirk said softly. “Be very sure, it’s not a lie.”
“But there aren’t enough outlaws to fight all those soldiers! ”
“There are, when you consider that most of the soldiers spend most of their time fighting one another,” Dirk pointed out. “Besides, outlaws aren’t the only ones who can fight.”
“Who, then?” Coll said, completely at a loss.
“Let’s go find out, shall we?” Gar said quietly. “Or would you prefer to stay here, with the outlaws?”
“Don’t feel you have to come,” Dirk said quickly. “I won’t lie—we’d much rather have you with us—but we’ll understand if you want to stay. It is more secure than the open road, after all.”