Buzzards, Hawks and Ravens

 (Account of Six Friend’s Life in the “Dark” Age)

by

Ruwen Rouhs

Chapter 7.1

The Gray Raiders

- Escaping to the Mountain Retreat -

The grey October night was over, and the chilly morning breeze from the mountains made Ruwen shiver. He was tired out and sleepy after his duty as a guard at the east gate to the village. A lot had changed in the village after the incident with the false monk at St. Michaels Market. First of all, the fortifications, especially the wall and the gates, had been improved by the villagers. Secondly the young men had established a secret retreat in a pasture high up on the mountains; one big enough to accommodate the villagers for at least one week. Finally, a watch duty was arranged with day and night shifts.

On his way back from the night shift, Ruwen decided to visit his mother in the graveyard. The gravesite was at the very end of the graveyard by the small church. She had been buried close to the village wall because she died before she could do the last confession. The zealous priest had even denied her the last rites.

Her grave was without a headstone, but it was the most striking of the little graveyard. All year long flowers bloomed on the small mound. Ruwen and Eileen had planted snowdrops, lilies, forget-me-nots, a big red rose for the warm seasons and a Christmas rose for the harsh wintertime.

Making his way around the little church, Ruwen tripped over an oversized bundle lying under the low roof of the shed added to the church. The bundle came to life quickly, gripped Ruwen's left leg, and threw him to the dirt.

"Dammit, you idiot. You nearly trod on me! I am not a bag of grain!"

Ruwen got up, turned around and looked surprised, into a pale, fat face. The face was round like his friend the full moon, but the cold stares of stranger’s tiny eyes frightened him and made him shiver even more.

Plucking up his courage, "Who are you stranger? You know very well that nobody is allowed to stay outside at night."

The stranger rose to his feet. He was a giant of a man in a monk's gown. His build was square and he towered over Ruwen by nearly two heads.

Breaking into a wicked smile, he smirked, "Oh my lovely boy. I am a man of God, a friar! I have come from far away, arriving only last night; therefore I am sure you will understand that I am not familiar with the regulations around here!" Sneering at Ruwen with cold eyes, he continued, "But what is a young man like you looking for in a graveyard, so early in the morning?"

Since the incident at St. Michael's Fair, the guards had watched closely for anyone entering the village. During the day the gates were open, but closely observed by the guards. Before sundown they were blocked and reinforced with thorns.

Yesterday nobody had reported a stranger entering the village either during the daytime or in the evening. Therefore, Ruwen was sure the man had entered the village clandestinely. He looked around. The only secret entrance to the village was a footpath through a thorny hedge on the village wall, and into the graveyard. It started at the swamp and followed a creek at the western end of the village. This path was only known to villagers and was usually only used by lads wanting to leave and enter the village unwatched.

With quick eyes, Ruwen searched the thorn hedge for traces left behind by an intruder. He spotted the marks exactly where he expected them to be. Now he was certain the man in front of him was a Gray Raider spy. It was the other spy, the fat one, the friendly one, not the skeletal one who had been spying at the fair. Someone must have given away the secret of this path to the false monk. He could guess who! It was the crook Tanko, surely.

Ruwen had to decide what to do, and fast. He was too small to fight the big monk or arrest him. Therefore, he continued the questioning. "What are you looking for in our village? Are you visiting relatives or friends here in our village?"

"Oh, no, dear! My dear young man! I am a poor pilgrim on my way to the Holy Land. I am begging for alms to sustain my living and save the donations for the poor Christians pursued by the murderous Moslems in the Holy Land." With this, he took hold of Ruwen's shoulders and tried to draw him into an embrace.

Panic-stricken, frightened, and disgusted by the evil smell of the monk, Ruwen jerked free and ran away.

*.*.*

Ruwen reached Klas's farm, shaking. Nobody was in the kitchen. Noticing a movement in the stable he cried aloud, "Dad, a Gray Raider spy is in the graveyard, quick!"

"Is he dead?"

"No! He's alive and probably spying in the village already!"

Bastian hurried down from the hay loft, joining his father. He put his arms around Ruwen and tried to calm down his shaking friend, "Calm down, little bro! Tell us what happened! Are you sure it's a spy?"

During the next half hour Klas and his four sons discussed the necessary moves in secret. Unanimously they decided to inform only their most reliable friends and ask these to observe the false monk from a distance. They also decided it seemed to be necessary to send a fast rider to Prince-Bishop in Trescrossing to ask for immediate help. Without delay Bendrich mounted the fastest horse available and went off for an exhausting three day ride to Trescrossing. Bastian started a surveillance unit comprised of the most discreet and inconspicuous village lads.

*.*.*

Ruwen tended to his daily chores at Aliah's homestead, looking after the wellbeing of the Wise Women and her livestock, preparing elixirs and medications and waiting for the sick to come for aid. During the last six years Aliah had grown old and weak. Now she looked more and more like an old witch and not like the proud Wise Women she had been all of her long life. However she was happy because she had found her replacement Healer, her Ruwen, and she was ready for death, without regret.

Around noon, Ruwen was alarmed by a persistent knocking at the gate to Aliah's small estate. Expecting a villager seeking medical aid, he hurried to the door, but there was the giant monk, the Gray Raiders' spy! Shying away at the sight of the crook, he was greeted by the man's booze scented breath "God bless you, dear boy! You are a beautiful example of Heaven’s grace. God bless you! May I enter?"

To Ruwen's relief, the seemingly drunken friar hadn't recognized him and gave his lame speech, "I come from far away and collect alms for the poor Christians in the Holy Land." Overbearingly, he pushed Ruwen aside and went straight up to the entrance of Aliah's small house. At the doorstep he stopped, riveted to the spot. His booze reddened face turned pale at the sight of the runes at the door frame; of URUZ, that is richness of soil and the fierce force of the aurochs; of LAGUZ, that is the swiftness of running water and cool lake; of SOWELO, that is the warming sun and the victory of light; of MANNAZ, that is the kind moon and the wise man, and finally; of TIWAZ, that is the piercing spear and the prowess of the fighter.

"Witch craft! Witch craft!" he exclaimed "Oh Lord, have mercy! Wipe out your adversaries! Wipe out these pagan hellions!" and he retreated hastily back to the dusty road, muttering unintelligible imprecations.

Later on, the two lads observing him reported the false monk had hurried down the road furiously, and finally over the shallow ford of the river through the ice-cold water. To their great disappointment, the two pursuers lost his track in the dense forest, half-way up the southern mountain range.

*.*.*

Klas clearly remembered the order from the Captain of Prince-Bishop troop, "If you suspect a raid is ahead, take the people to the retreat and inform the Prince-Bishop without delay." The second part, informing the Bishop, was easy, since Bendrich was already six hours on his way. The first part wasn't as easy. Klas himself had no problems accepting the order. For him, the sudden visit of the monk was warning enough. But would the other villagers agree to swap their comfortable homes for awful shelters in the barren basin on the other side of the high mountain ridge? In late October, it was cold up there already, and there was a good chance that snow was falling already, because the retreat was situated more than three-thousand feet further up the mountains than was the village.

He needed the full support of all elders for a smooth and fast evacuation of the village. Therefore, he called for a meeting of the elders in the little church.

"You all saw the beggar monk today! He is not the pious monk he pretends to be. He is a spy of the Gray Raiders. The way he entered the village by the secret footpath has convinced me, as well as the way he was preaching from house to house. I am sure, my friends, as sure as I am the provost, that the Gray Raiders will attack our village at the next New Moon. This is only three or four nights away! We have to retreat to our hideout immediately, and leave the village this very night."

"How do you know? Who told you? Did you read the stars? Provost, who told you the Gray Raiders will attack us at all, and why in three days?" the black-smith asked in a provocative way and getting support by doubtful villagers.

"Wasn't the false monk at your place, blacksmith? He turned up last night out of the nothingness. He sneaked into the village on a path only known to insiders! How could a stranger know that secret path?"

"I saw this guy today, for the first time. He is no insider, that's true, but my wife liked him at first glance and did the wife of the wainwright. They are very enthused about him, and feel he is a poor pious pilgrim; not a robber in disguise!"

"Are you sure he entered the village during the night? Maybe our guards missed him when he passed through the gates during daytime!" the wainwright backed up the blacksmith. "And, he could have entered by some other way!"

Ruwen interjected furiously, "He used the secret path! I am sure about that! I saw the tracks the crook left in the thorn hedge, that part of the village fortifications behind the graveyard. And later, Bastian traced his tracks down to the brook! I am pretty sure I know who told him about the path, too! It was Tanko, that evil crook!"

The prudent miller considered the situation carefully, "I agree with Klas. I really do not like to run away and leave behind my mill, my house and my other property, but loosing the lives of my precious family and my own would be much worse! And if Klas isn't right about the imminent raid and nothing happens, it wouldn't bother me too much! I would be happy, and willingly donate a big candle to the Virgin Mary!"

The discussion dragged on longer and longer, because everyone wanted to express his position. Klas decided finally, ending the fierce discussion. "As the one responsible for the village I will decide; we will leave for the secret camp at early dawn! If anyone wants to stay behind, it's his decision! I cannot guarantee his life."

*.*.*

The exodus of the villagers to the mountain retreat began at the break of dawn. More than a dozen wagons and carts inched up on the steep and muddy way to the mountain retreat. Only horses hauled the two four-wheeled wagons, while bullocks or cows were yoked to the two-wheeled carts. The wagons and carts were overstuffed with the villager’s most valuable possessions; in wooden chests, together with sacks full of grains, fowl cramped into narrow cages and hog-tied piglets. Only a tiny bit of space was left for toddlers and old people who were likely to be too slow or get too short of breath at the greater altitudes.

The wagons hauled by horses advanced faster than the carts pulled by oxen or cows. Soon a gap opened in between.  Women and children filled in this gap, carrying some vitally important items and additional clothing, in backpacks. The men who were not in charge of driving the wagons, as well as some lads were responsible for chasing the livestock at the end of the convoy, - the cows, calves, bulls, sheep and goats. Because of their short legs, the pigs were herded separately and being driven by a herdsman and some of the bigger boys, to a remote beech grove north of the village.

Klas, the blacksmith, and the miller, supervised the convoy, while Geroldt took the lead, cracking his whip to urge his horses forward. Bastian, Ruwen and the oldest son of the wainwright were in command of the rearguard, consisting of sturdy young men armed with swords, spears and clubs. About halfway up the mountain range the rearguard split in two. The bigger segment continued the hike up the mountain road to the hidden camp, while Bastian and the miller's son, Mauro, returned to a small hideout just above the village. There they had to stand sentinel for the next two days and report to Klas as soon as the Gray Raiders arrived, or what everyone hoped for, the soldiers of the Prince-Bishop.

Ruwen was sad, but not only because of leaving home. It was his separation from Bastian which caused him the greatest distress. For the last seven years he and his blood brother had spend every day together.

He couldn't imagine spending a day, much less a night, without Bastian. At their parting he took Bastian's hand and dragged him to the side. Behind some dense shrubs, sheltered from the sight of others, he embraced his Bastian tightly. "I can't stand the thought of being without you, big bro, not even for a day and now we have to separate for two days, maybe longer! Oh, big bro, I miss you already! Please be careful, don't take any chances with the enemy! I want you back safe!"

"Oh lil bro, it's just an observation post, not a post for fighting! I promise, I will keep cool and not fight with the raiders. Just wait and I'll be back with you soon."

"Please Bastian, don't forget to look after Aliah. Pass on greetings to my dear Aunty. I still can't understand why she wants to stay in the village! Sure, she's ill, but she was ill all year long. We could have carried her to the hiding place on the cart. But she stubbornly refused to leave! I think she's preparing for heaven."

"I will take care of her, lil bro. You know I love Aliah almost as much as I love you."

Mauro’s voice called, "Hey Bastian, where are you? Hurry up. We have to be back before noon!"

Bastian kissed Ruwen good-bye. Ruwen was taken aback since Bastian had never ever initiated kissing; that had always been Ruwen's privilege.

*.*.*

Since it was near the end of October, the weather at the hideout was uncomfortable for men and animals. A moist cold had collected in the basin-like pasture. Even at noon the pale sun was not strong enough to burn away the fog, nor stop the cold breeze. The water of the small pond tasted brackish, and the grass was sour and unpalatable. Almost immediately the cattle refused to feed off the grass and milk began to run low. By the second morning the shelters were covered with snow flakes. People grew ever more weary of staying in such a rough place. During the first day the young boys had enjoyed the adventure, but now they got tired of the unfriendly place. People started to complain to Klas.

Ruwen had set up his own small shelter of branches, away from the others. During the daytime he didn't feel lonely because of the all the chores he had to attend to, but during the night he missed Bastian while he was resting alone, on his hard bed of damp reeds.

Late in the afternoon of the second day, Bastian returned to the retreat, from sentry duty. The fugitives gathered immediately and demanded information impatiently.

"Everything is calm down at the village," Bastian informed the impatient. "Nothing of importance has happened so far; the Gray Raiders have not shown up, nor traders or any other visitors. So far, we have waited in vain for the Prince-Bishop's  soldiers."

"Yea, the earliest date the mercenaries will arrive from Trescrossing should be the day after tomorrow. Bendrich got our fastest horse to get to the residency, but he needs at least two days to get there. He is no bird!"

Talking to the miller's wife, Bastian added "It was more like recess than surveillance. Mauro, your son is just fine. He asked me to deliver his greetings to you and the whole family…Oh, I nearly forgot, Mauro asks you to fix him a square meal for tomorrow. He is already starving to death!"

Then Bastian turned to Ruwen," Mauro is waiting for relief tomorrow afternoon. He hopes you will be there early in the afternoon, as he wants to arrive here before dark."

"Sure, I’ll depart tomorrow morning when the cocks are crowing. But I’m not in a hurry because of Mauro; I am much more worried about Aliah's welfare! How was Aunty?"

Bastian looked depressed. "She was very feeble, much weaker than in the weeks before this. She urgently wants to see you, and she told me you have to hurry!"

Ruwen's tiny shelter was in the cover of dense shrubs, away from the crowded campground. As soon as the sun went down the weary TIBs curled up under the thin blanket, like kittens warming each other.

"I missed your warmth last night."

"I did too! I was cold the whole night, and I didn't want to ask Mauro to share the blanket to warm me up. You are my hottie!

During this second night, Ruwen slept well, despite the bad news about Aliah's condition.  He slept much better than the night before and a lot warmer.

*.*.*

The morning light of the third day showed snowflakes all over the place and the puddles were covered with a brittle sheet of ice. With his backpack full of food for two days, Ruwen left the campsite with the miller’s younger son, Malte. This sturdy guy was supposed to come along with him as the second sentinel. Bastian volunteered to escort the two up to the mountain pass.

Happily talking, the three hiked up to the notch in the mountain ridge. The day had started happily, however this was not their lucky day. As they crossed the mountain pass, Malte slipped on the frozen ground, skidded down into a ravine and wrenched his right ankle badly. He tried, but couldn't walk anymore. His ankle hurt like hell.

"Help me, Ruwen. Help, Bastian. I can't scramble back up to the pass!"

Ruwen checked the ankle. "It's not broken; the ankle is just wrenched. But you will not be able to hike down to the village with me, that’s for sure."

"We need to get help, Ruwen. You shouldn't go down all alone!"

"There is no time to wait for help. I must be down at the village early in the afternoon, because Mauro is waiting. You, Bastian, will have to carry Malte back to the retreat!"

"You can't leave alone; it's too dangerous!"

 "It's alright Bastian; don't be concerned. I’ll make my way down to the village without any accident. You know I am lightweight like a bird, and if necessary I will fly like a bird. I’ll bet that in two days we will see each other again, unhurt! "

With those words, Ruwen embraced Bastian, kissed him on both cheeks, and began a fast descent to the village, without looking back. He didn't dare to look back, because of the tears in his eyes.

With every step downhill the weather got better and the temperature increased. Ruwen had already shed his heavy coat when halfway down the mountain, he met Mauro. "Hey, what's on, Mauro? Everything's alright? Did you visit Aliah this morning? Is she alright?"

"I hope so. There are no Raiders ahead, or soldiers either! I didn't look in on Aliah. You know I am scared of your Aunty!"

Ruwen's mind was ill at ease because of his worry about Aliah. He skipped his planned break and rushed down into the valley. Before he took off, he told Mauro, "Greetings to the others, and greetings to Bastian. Tell him I'm fine!"

He had a first glimpse of the village when he left the forested area on edge of the U-shaped valley. The hillside sloped down gently to the valley shoulder about 60 feet above the valley bottom, with the river meandering through the floodplain. The houses of the village were lodged behind the ring-wall crowned by thick shrubbery. Only the tower of the small church was visible and the smokestacks of the wealthier farms. The water mill was built on the upper end village with the small creek powering its wheel. The houses of the blacksmith and the wainwright, with their workshops, were at the lower end of the village, close to the river.

Ruwen crouched behind a hedgerow of hazelnut and sloes to observe the village and its surroundings meticulously. The valley looked like always, except that there was no smoke rising from the smoke stacks; there was no mooing of cows, whinnying of horses nor cackling of chickens. The village looked normal but none-the-less deserted. He checked the sky for the circling guardians but detected neither a buzzard nor a harrier anywhere close by. They were all circling in the sky just beyond the sharp bend of the valley to the west. Suddenly, one of the big birds changed its flight and headed on a long dive directly at the hedgerow. As soon as Ruwen stepped into the harvested field, the big bird touched down and paced up to him proudly. It was Buzzie, the guardian of the vale, now a grown up raptor. Holding his head slightly tilted, he approached Ruwen with a courting "Meow! Meow!"

Ruwen crouched, to be at eye-level with his friend, asking, "What's the matter Buzzie? Did you miss me? Did you see strangers around lately? Do you miss us villagers?"

"I missed you and the others, and the livestock. I even missed the cats going after me. Where are you? Everything's calm, no strangers!"

"Do you want some bread, Buzzie? I haven't had time to catch a mouse for you!"

Buzzie checked the offered piece of dry bread, closed his eyes as if mulling over the present and left for the next tree with a wailing "Meow, Meow!", and the bread.

Ruwen was relieved. There were no signs of strangers around. Under the cover of the hedgerow he sneaked down to the small brook, which flowed along the western end of the village to the river. The access to the secret path to the back of the graveyard has been blocked after the incident with the false monk. But Ruwen knew of another way through the wall behind the Churchyard.

*.*.*

Authors note

I would like to express a special thank to Paul, TSL and especially to B. who revised the language used by a non native English writer.

Comments, reviews, questions and complaints are welcomed. Please send them to ruwenrouhs@hotmail.de or use the Feedback Form.  And I would like to add, thanks for reading.

Copyright Notice - Copyright © 2007

The author copyrights this story and retains all rights. This work may not be duplicated in any form – physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise – without the author's expressed permission. All applicable copyright laws apply.

Ruwen Rouhs