Post by Morreion on Dec 5, 2008 22:46:24 GMT -5
One of my better stories, I think. I had a thing for writing about this character.
I am Malthrig, a Celtic soldier and hero of Hibernia. I have seen many battles, and have fought hard for my homeland; I have served as an officer in the Army, have seen my own fortunes rise and fall.
Many grand and glorious things I have witnessed; many base and shameful things, as well. War brings out both the best and the worst in us all. And yet my thoughts often go back to my first year in the Army.
My father was a simple farmer, a plain man; he was a good man as well. He told me the night before I left on my first campaign, "Do the right thing. The right thing is the simple thing, always. A man has to live with himself, and be able to sleep at night." I had always looked up to him, and I told him that eve that I would do as he said.
The next day, full of excitement that only those who have never fought before can feel, I marched into the frontier with my fellow soldiers. Some in my group were veterans, others were new to war as I was. Nervously, I watched those with experience, and tried to do what they did.
After a while, our patrol met some scouts from Albion. The first thing I knew, arrows were flashing past, making hissing sounds as they cut through the air. One of us, a man named Coalan, was struck down by the deadly clothyard shafts. As our rangers responded with their bows, those of us with spear and sword charged, raising our shields. An arrow glanced off my shield, and I ran forward, finding a Briton behind a tree, nocking another arrow. I slammed him with my shield, sending him to his knees.
"I yield!" he cried haltingly in the Celtic tongue; he had dropped his bow, and was clutching his bleeding head in one hand. I put up my sword, kicked his longbow away, pulled his short sword out of its sheath, and stuck it in my belt. I was elated; I had captured a man!
The brief skirmish had ended with the rest of the scouts running off; I took my captive back towards my group at swordpoint. Tadc, a veteran, scowled fiercely and drew his dagger, advancing upon us. I stood next to the scout, shaking my head at him.
"The bastard killed Coalan, boy," he said in a low voice; "I mean to make him pay, blood for blood."
"He is a prisoner, by rules of war," I heard myself say.
"There's no rules out here, boy," said Tadc, sneering at me. He gripped his dagger and came at the scout, who stood sweating, his face pale.
I stood in front of him, sword at the ready. "You shall not harm him. He killed in battle, what you seek is murder." The others stood by, watching; some looked on with interest, others looked away, as if seeing nothing.
Just then, more Hibernians came up from the rear; I shoved the scout towards them. The man nodded grinned at me as I turned him over to the guards. "If it were me capturin' you, I'd a slit yer throat" he said. He had dead eyes, he was all dead inside. I shivered, and turned away. When I returned, Tadc looked at me with hatred.
"You'll pay for that. Protecting an Alb." He spat at my feet.I said nothing, looking at him impassively.
"Sleep lightly, boy," he said, then turned to talk to two of his stupid, cruel friends. They stared at me stonily.
I hardly slept at all that night; the next day, I could sense the contempt from some of my fellow soldiers, outright hostility in Tadc and his friends. I kept to myself, always aware of who
was around me. But one eve, I fell into a deep dreamless slumber, and awoke, a knife at my throat. In the dim firelight I sensed figures around me.
"Alb lover," Tadc hissed, and kicked me savagely. "This is for Coalan," another said, and I was beaten mercilessly by them.
When it was over, I could barely rise; my eyes had almost swollen shut, and I could feel broken ribs grating in my chest.
It took me a couple weeks of light duty to recover enough to return to my group; nothing was asked nor said about what had happened to me. When I was back with my unit, some men, Tadc and his friends, grinned at me; others looked away. One or two gave me pitying looks.
I worked very hard at soldiering after that incident, and though I made a friend here and there, I mostly kept to myself. I had lost a certain amount of faith, while at the same time understanding what had happened to me. I talked to no one about it. Something had changed inside me. I threw myself into the Army life.
Months afterwards, I had been recognized by the officers for my hard work, and was made a subaltern, a minor group leader. I was secretly gratified; a little bit of my faith in the Army came back to me. Tadc's crew scrutinized my every move; I treated them just like the rest, determined to do my duty well.
By this time, I had been in several small battles; I knew what it was like to kill a man. I was finding out quickly that war is very little glory, and much ugliness. I fought hard against Hibernia's enemies, but saw little difference in the soldiers on either side; a man is a man.
Then came a big battle, out in Emain Macha. A large force of Albs had attacked through their milewall; we fought them back, step by bloody step. Suddenly, they broke, their forces streaming back through the milegate, towards their keep.
In the rout, my group ran down a knight and his squire. The knight's horse had been downed with an arrow; his squire was attempting to get him to his feet.
I advanced upon them, my men close behind; "Yield!" I yelled, knowing full well that a knight would fetch a good ransom for us.
The knight was sitting upon the grass, his greatsword laying upon the ground out of his reach. His visor was up, staring at me, I could almost see his thinking. His squire, a lad younger than me, looked very scared. The boy had red hair, and wore a handkerchief upon his surcoat, a memento of some young lady whose honor he fought for. The boy raised his sword and stood in front of his lord.
I gestured to him to put the blade down; the boy, pale and breathing hard, raised his weapon, guarding his charge. The young fool was going to fight several men. I knew his honor required it; I felt a tightening in my chest.
"Throw down your arms!" I yelled, advancing. I couldn't allow a delay; at any time, a group of Albs could burst upon us. The boy looked back at his lord, then quickly turned back towards me, holding his sword high in preparation to fight. I looked at the knight; suddenly the squire ran at me, shouting a name.
I parried his cut easily; an arrow took him under his arm, an expert shot by our ranger. He fell to the ground.
I held my sword to the knight's chest as he took his helmet off, saying "I yield." I looked back at the boy upon the ground; blood bubbled out of his mouth, his white face had a terrified expression. I turned back to the knight, who smiled slightly, saying "You'll get ransom for me. My squire was brave."
I backhanded him with force, my scaled gauntlet smashing against his face. He reeled back, his cheekbone broken; I grabbed him roughly by the arm and said, "You should have made him yield!"
My men behind me smiled grimly; the boy on the ground choked out his life. I was furious. "Take him away," I said, bending down to the boy.
His eyes were wide, filled with fear. I placed my hand upon his brow, and as he expired, the knight said, "Honor has been satisfied." I looked up at him, and Tadc had to put a hand upon my shoulder in restraint.
I don't remember much about afterwards; I was reprimanded and lost my subaltern status for striking a a prisoner of importance. Tadc and his friends took to me after that; I ignored them. I could care less for the punishment, too.
I lost something that day, something more important than a minor officer's status.
Over the years since, many things have happened to me; I have seen greater sorrows, and tasted grander victories. Yet sometimes in my sleep, I see the boy laying upon the ground; sometimes, he has my face. Those are unquiet dreams, and I awake fatigued afterwards, having slept poorly.
I am Malthrig, a Celtic soldier and hero of Hibernia. I have seen many battles, and have fought hard for my homeland; I have served as an officer in the Army, have seen my own fortunes rise and fall.
Many grand and glorious things I have witnessed; many base and shameful things, as well. War brings out both the best and the worst in us all. And yet my thoughts often go back to my first year in the Army.
My father was a simple farmer, a plain man; he was a good man as well. He told me the night before I left on my first campaign, "Do the right thing. The right thing is the simple thing, always. A man has to live with himself, and be able to sleep at night." I had always looked up to him, and I told him that eve that I would do as he said.
The next day, full of excitement that only those who have never fought before can feel, I marched into the frontier with my fellow soldiers. Some in my group were veterans, others were new to war as I was. Nervously, I watched those with experience, and tried to do what they did.
After a while, our patrol met some scouts from Albion. The first thing I knew, arrows were flashing past, making hissing sounds as they cut through the air. One of us, a man named Coalan, was struck down by the deadly clothyard shafts. As our rangers responded with their bows, those of us with spear and sword charged, raising our shields. An arrow glanced off my shield, and I ran forward, finding a Briton behind a tree, nocking another arrow. I slammed him with my shield, sending him to his knees.
"I yield!" he cried haltingly in the Celtic tongue; he had dropped his bow, and was clutching his bleeding head in one hand. I put up my sword, kicked his longbow away, pulled his short sword out of its sheath, and stuck it in my belt. I was elated; I had captured a man!
The brief skirmish had ended with the rest of the scouts running off; I took my captive back towards my group at swordpoint. Tadc, a veteran, scowled fiercely and drew his dagger, advancing upon us. I stood next to the scout, shaking my head at him.
"The bastard killed Coalan, boy," he said in a low voice; "I mean to make him pay, blood for blood."
"He is a prisoner, by rules of war," I heard myself say.
"There's no rules out here, boy," said Tadc, sneering at me. He gripped his dagger and came at the scout, who stood sweating, his face pale.
I stood in front of him, sword at the ready. "You shall not harm him. He killed in battle, what you seek is murder." The others stood by, watching; some looked on with interest, others looked away, as if seeing nothing.
Just then, more Hibernians came up from the rear; I shoved the scout towards them. The man nodded grinned at me as I turned him over to the guards. "If it were me capturin' you, I'd a slit yer throat" he said. He had dead eyes, he was all dead inside. I shivered, and turned away. When I returned, Tadc looked at me with hatred.
"You'll pay for that. Protecting an Alb." He spat at my feet.I said nothing, looking at him impassively.
"Sleep lightly, boy," he said, then turned to talk to two of his stupid, cruel friends. They stared at me stonily.
I hardly slept at all that night; the next day, I could sense the contempt from some of my fellow soldiers, outright hostility in Tadc and his friends. I kept to myself, always aware of who
was around me. But one eve, I fell into a deep dreamless slumber, and awoke, a knife at my throat. In the dim firelight I sensed figures around me.
"Alb lover," Tadc hissed, and kicked me savagely. "This is for Coalan," another said, and I was beaten mercilessly by them.
When it was over, I could barely rise; my eyes had almost swollen shut, and I could feel broken ribs grating in my chest.
It took me a couple weeks of light duty to recover enough to return to my group; nothing was asked nor said about what had happened to me. When I was back with my unit, some men, Tadc and his friends, grinned at me; others looked away. One or two gave me pitying looks.
I worked very hard at soldiering after that incident, and though I made a friend here and there, I mostly kept to myself. I had lost a certain amount of faith, while at the same time understanding what had happened to me. I talked to no one about it. Something had changed inside me. I threw myself into the Army life.
Months afterwards, I had been recognized by the officers for my hard work, and was made a subaltern, a minor group leader. I was secretly gratified; a little bit of my faith in the Army came back to me. Tadc's crew scrutinized my every move; I treated them just like the rest, determined to do my duty well.
By this time, I had been in several small battles; I knew what it was like to kill a man. I was finding out quickly that war is very little glory, and much ugliness. I fought hard against Hibernia's enemies, but saw little difference in the soldiers on either side; a man is a man.
Then came a big battle, out in Emain Macha. A large force of Albs had attacked through their milewall; we fought them back, step by bloody step. Suddenly, they broke, their forces streaming back through the milegate, towards their keep.
In the rout, my group ran down a knight and his squire. The knight's horse had been downed with an arrow; his squire was attempting to get him to his feet.
I advanced upon them, my men close behind; "Yield!" I yelled, knowing full well that a knight would fetch a good ransom for us.
The knight was sitting upon the grass, his greatsword laying upon the ground out of his reach. His visor was up, staring at me, I could almost see his thinking. His squire, a lad younger than me, looked very scared. The boy had red hair, and wore a handkerchief upon his surcoat, a memento of some young lady whose honor he fought for. The boy raised his sword and stood in front of his lord.
I gestured to him to put the blade down; the boy, pale and breathing hard, raised his weapon, guarding his charge. The young fool was going to fight several men. I knew his honor required it; I felt a tightening in my chest.
"Throw down your arms!" I yelled, advancing. I couldn't allow a delay; at any time, a group of Albs could burst upon us. The boy looked back at his lord, then quickly turned back towards me, holding his sword high in preparation to fight. I looked at the knight; suddenly the squire ran at me, shouting a name.
I parried his cut easily; an arrow took him under his arm, an expert shot by our ranger. He fell to the ground.
I held my sword to the knight's chest as he took his helmet off, saying "I yield." I looked back at the boy upon the ground; blood bubbled out of his mouth, his white face had a terrified expression. I turned back to the knight, who smiled slightly, saying "You'll get ransom for me. My squire was brave."
I backhanded him with force, my scaled gauntlet smashing against his face. He reeled back, his cheekbone broken; I grabbed him roughly by the arm and said, "You should have made him yield!"
My men behind me smiled grimly; the boy on the ground choked out his life. I was furious. "Take him away," I said, bending down to the boy.
His eyes were wide, filled with fear. I placed my hand upon his brow, and as he expired, the knight said, "Honor has been satisfied." I looked up at him, and Tadc had to put a hand upon my shoulder in restraint.
I don't remember much about afterwards; I was reprimanded and lost my subaltern status for striking a a prisoner of importance. Tadc and his friends took to me after that; I ignored them. I could care less for the punishment, too.
I lost something that day, something more important than a minor officer's status.
Over the years since, many things have happened to me; I have seen greater sorrows, and tasted grander victories. Yet sometimes in my sleep, I see the boy laying upon the ground; sometimes, he has my face. Those are unquiet dreams, and I awake fatigued afterwards, having slept poorly.
