"Burn it, Sergeant."
"But Sire-Sheriff de Glanville said-"
"Never mind what de Glanville said. Burn it."
"Everything?"
"To the ground."
The sight of torches being lit brought the farmer and his sons out of their belligerent stupor. They began shouting and cursing and shaking their fists at the Ffreinc soldiers. One of the younger boys made as if to rush at one of the knights as he passed with a torch. But the farmer grabbed his son back and held him fast. They all watched as the flames took hold, rising skyward on the soft morning air. The farmwife held her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face. Still, none of the Cymry stirred from where they stood.
When it was certain that the flames could not be extinguished, Marshal Guy gave the order for the knights to be mounted, and the company moved off.
"That went well," observed Aloin when the last of the wagons and soldiers had cleared the yard. "Better than I expected-from what you said about the Welshies' love of fighting."
"Yes," agreed the marshal slowly, "in truth I expected more of a fight. Just see you keep your sword ready. We cannot count on the next one being so peaceful."
But, in fact, the Cymry at the second farm were no more inclined to take arms and resist the pillagers than the first lot. Like those at the previous settlement, the second clan put up no struggle at all, bearing the assault with a grave and baleful silence. If they did not voice their fury outright, their doomful expressions were nevertheless most eloquent. Again, Marshal Guy could not quite credit the odd docility of the natives when faced with the destruction of their homes. But there it was. In spite of this conundrum, he decided to burn the second farm, too-the better to provoke King Raven to show himself.
"What now?" asked Captain Aloin as the smoke rolled skyward. "The wagons are almost full."
"Almost full is not enough," replied Guy. "We go on."
"And if this King of the Ravens does not appear? What then?"
"Then we'll take the wagons back to the caer and raid again tomorrow. We keep at it until he comes."
"You're sure about that, oui?"
"Oh, yes, he'll come. He always does."
The third farmstead lay almost within sight of the walls of Caer Cadarn. It was small and, owing to its nearness to the town and stronghold, it had suffered plundering by Ffreinc troops before, and Guy remembered it. The farm was quiet as the soldiers surrounded the property. No one came out to meet the soldiers as they entered the yard, so Gysburne ordered Sergeant Jeremias to go in and bring the farmer and his family out.
The sergeant returned a moment later. "There is no one here, my lord."
"They must have gone into hiding," concluded the marshal.
"They knew we were coming?" asked Captain Aloin. "How so?"
"The Welsh are uncanny this way," explained Gysburne. "I don't know how they know, but word travels on the air in these valleys. They seem to know everything that happens." Turning back to the sergeant, he said, "Ransack the barn and granary. They will not have had time to carry anything away."
Jeremias hurried off. "Strip it!" he called. "Take everything."
The soldiers dismounted and, while the wagons were driven into position, they moved off to the buildings. The first man-at-arms to reach the barn threw open the doors and started in-to be met by the angry wasp-buzz of arrows streaking out of the dark interior. He and two other soldiers dropped dead to the ground; three more staggered back clutching their chests and staring in horror at the oaken shafts that had so suddenly appeared there.
Marshal Guy saw the arrows flash and realized they were under attack. He turned to the soldiers who were just then about to enter the house. "Halt!" he shouted. "Don't go in there!"
But the knight's hand was on the door and he had already pushed it open.
With a sound like that of a whip snapping against naked flesh, the first flight of arrows struck home. Four knights fell as one. An errant arrow glanced off a soldier's helmet and careered off at an angle, striking a horse standing in the yard. The animal reared and began bucking in a forlorn effort to relieve the lethal sting in its side.
Then all was chaos, as everywhere knights and men-at-arms were stumbling back, colliding with one another, fleeing the deadly and unseen assault. With desperate shouts and screams of agony they shrank from the arrows that continued to stream into the yard, seemingly from every direction at once. There was no escaping them. With each flight more soldiers dropped-by twos and threes they fell, pierced by the lethal missiles.
"To arms! To arms!" cried Captain Aloin, trying to rally his troops. "Seal the barn! Seal the barn and burn it!"
In answer to the command, three well-armoured knights leapt to obey. Through the deadly onslaught they ran, their shields high before them as shaft after shaft hammered into the splintering wood. One of the knights reached the right-hand door of the barn and flung it closed. He put his back against it to hold it shut while his two comrades flung the left-hand door closed.
"The torches! Get the torches!" shouted the first knight, still bracing the door shut. He drew breath to shout once more and shrieked in agony instead as, with the sound of a branch breaking in a storm, the steel point of an arrow slammed through the planking and poked through the centre of his chest. He gave out a strangled yelp and slumped down, his body snagged and caught by the strong oaken shaft of the arrow.
His two companions holding the left-hand barn door heard the sharp cracking sound and watched aghast as three more arrows penetrated the stout timber doors to half their length. Had their backs been to the door they would have suffered the same fate as their unfortunate comrade.
Meanwhile, arrows continued to fly from the house-from the door and the two small windows facing the yard, which had become a tumult of plunging horses and frightened men scrambling over the bodies of corpses. The wagon drivers, defenceless in the centre of the yard, threw themselves from their carts and ran for safety beyond range of the whistling shafts. This left the oxen to fend for themselves; confused and terrified by the violent turmoil, the beasts strained at their yokes and tried to break their traces. Unable to escape, they stood in wild-eyed terror and bawled.
When the barn doors burst open once more, a tall slender figure appeared in the gap: a man's form from shoulders to the tips of his tall black boots, but bearing the head of an enormous bird with a weird skull-like black face and a wickedly long, narrow beak. In its hand, the creature clutched a longbow with an arrow nocked to the string. The smooth, expressionless face surveyed the churning turmoil with a quick sweep of its head, picked out Gysburne, and directed an arrow at him. The marshal, who was already wheeling his horse, took the arrow on his shield as three more archers joined the creature and proceeded to loose shaft after shaft at will into the melee.
"Retreat!" cried Gysburne, trying to make himself heard above the commotion. "Retreat!"
Arrows singing around his ears, Guy put his head down and raced from the yard. Those soldiers still in the saddle, and those yet able to walk or run, followed. Five more met their deaths before the last of the knights had cleared the yard.
The Ffreinc raiding party continued to a place beyond arrow's reach and halted to regroup.
"What was that?" shouted Captain Aloin as he came galloping in beside the marshal. "What in the holy name was that?"
"That was King Raven," replied Guy, pulling an arrow from his shield, and another from the cantle of his saddle. "That was the fiend at his worst."
"By the blood," breathed the captain. "How many were with him?"
"I don't know. It doesn't matter."