The Earl's ManChapter 2 free porn video

In the grey, chill, pre-dawn, I surveyed the soggy campsite. Then, I set up my ambush while praying that no more than two or three men came back. I borrowed a page from their book, choosing a tree putting me high enough that the sun would cause them problems when they tried to locate me. Whether they came from the north or the south, they’d have to look into the sun to find me, although my position would be better for an attack against a foe coming from the north, the direction I expected them from.

When Sniffy started getting antsy well after sunrise, I figured they were coming; I was ready. I had two quivers of arrows securely tied to a branch with six arrows stabbed lightly into a branch to my right where I could grab them without having to look or waste precious time fiddling with the quiver. Four more quivers awaited me at the base of the tree. A rope tied off above me allowed me to climb down quickly in case I needed to escape or face a foe on the ground. My horse was saddled and ready to flee, hidden in a small copse of trees about fifty feet away.

I was a little nervous when four riders emerged from the trees along the game trail. Fortunately, the trail was narrow and they had to ride single-file. I waited as they approached; timing my first shot so I was at their maximum effective range, but they were close enough that an attempt to escape wouldn’t put them out of my range.

The three front riders heard the first arrow go by and assumed it had missed. The back rider didn’t get to make the same assumption. In the time it took the other three riders to realize there was a threat and look towards the camp, only two remained.

They were definitely professional soldiers, though. The remaining two soldiers were quickly on the ground behind their horses, having pulled the horses down to the ground. I was high enough that the horses didn’t block my line of sight. Seeing his last comrade skewered by one of my arrows even though he was hiding behind the horse, the lone survivor scampered behind a tree, popping out momentarily trying to locate me.

He reminded me of a squirrel I’d found once as he popped his head out of his hole several times for a quick look, checking on and trying to locate the threat. The remaining soldier was making the same mistake the squirrel had; his pop-ups were regular enough to time. “Pop” low on the right. “Pop” high on the left. “Pop” high on the right. “Pop” low on the left. The pattern gave me an opening and I took it. The next time he popped out high on his left, my arrow met him. My timing was off just the tiniest bit and I only managed to wound him. The good news was that the wound was an arrow deep in his left shoulder, greatly reducing his ability to use his bow.

With my bow over my shoulder, I slid down the rope and hurried to the bottom of the slope. As I had with my first wolf kill, I circled his position slowly, far enough away that I felt safe. This time, when he popped up, he loosed an arrow of his own at the same time I loosed mine. Mine went through his throat and I dodged, trying to avoid his weakly released arrow. Fortunately, with a bad shoulder, he didn’t have much on it. It still hit me in the hip, penetrating far enough to bury the small, diamond-shaped tip. He used those tips for the same reason I did--they penetrated chain mail and my adversaries had all been wearing chain mail.

The tips were designed to come off if the shaft of the arrow was pulled out. I was grateful it was shallow enough that I could dig it out with my knife without doing further damage. Next I pressed a piece of clean cloth into the wound to try and stop the bleeding, and dug some of the willow bark Margaret sent with me out of my pack and chewed on it to help with the pain.

Knowing how badly the Duke wanted the arms and horses, I limped around and removed the chain mail and weapons from the four dead soldiers. Their horses were well trained and stayed nearby making them easy to round up. After depositing everything worthwhile in the cave, I took the four horses and loaded the saddlebags filled with the Earl’s money, the money the Duke sent to pay the bandits, and the food the four men had with them.

Sniffy and I took our leave of the camp, stopping to tie the rest of the horses into strings of ten, each stringer tied to a single horse behind me. I started slowly, not used to leading so many horses, and worked my way up to a quick trot.

Having raided the supplies of the bandits, I had an adequate supply of food and drink for the rest of the trip and ate as I rode when I got hungry. I reached the next town around midday, found the blacksmith, and paid him to care for thirty-five of the horses for a month. Trading horses to let mine rest, I turned my new horse and the five now carrying the money southeast. Sniffy bounded along beside me happily, occasionally running into the woods only to re-emerge a short time later with his tongue lolling happily out of the side of his mouth.

At the second town I reached, I found the herbalist and paid her to treat my wound with a poultice. She was impressed when I knew which herbs to use. I got more poultice, willow bark, and strips of cloth to use as bandages for the rest of the journey. I also made sure I was still headed for London.

Late into the night, it started raining again, but I pressed on until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I led the horses up a small creek to help hide the spot where we left the road and stopped about a mile from the road in a copse of trees that kept most of the rain out. Taking the saddlebags with me, Sniffy and I crawled under a pine whose branches dragged the ground. After changing the dressing on my wound, I was out for the night.

The horses nickering quietly woke me in the morning and after changing the dressing again, I saddled and loaded the horses and left. It was foggy and cold, but at least the rain had stopped. I was quickly back on the road, headed for London.

Sniffy and I both sensed it at the same time. With the air still a little hazy, and still before lunch, I pulled up, talking to Sniffy. “Are you as hungry as I am, Sniffy? We should have eaten breakfast before we left this morning.”

While I gathered the driest twigs I could find, Sniffy remained on guard, lying down and staring up the road, hackles still raised. My fire was just getting noticeable when two men wandered nonchalantly out of the woods about two hundred yards away, each leading a horse with bags strapped on its back over the saddle. The way the horses were moving, I could tell the bags were extremely light--probably pine needles or moss intended to make the men appear to be merchants.

The man closest to me was on this side of his horse. The second man was between the horses, using the closest horse as a shield trying unsuccessfully to hide the loaded crossbow he was carrying. The closer they got to me, the farther back he dropped until he was even with the rear horse’s flank. “Good morning, gentlemen,” I called out cheerily, getting a mumbled reply in response.

When the man with the crossbow was about ten feet beyond me, he stepped out from behind the horse, spinning and turning the crossbow to where I’d been sitting, releasing the bolt before he realized I wasn’t there anymore. The shocked look on his face when my arrow went through his chest was probably what he was expecting to have seen on my face a moment earlier.

His partner had his sword half drawn before he saw my second arrow aimed at him. The sword was gently put back into the scabbard. “Drop the sword, coat, and any other weapons, then turn around and walk away,” I ordered. When he opened his mouth to protest, I drew back even more on the bow; His mouth closed quickly. Sword, coat, and three knives hit the ground before he began backing away slowly, one slow, tentative step after another. The farther away he got, the quicker the steps became until he suddenly turned and bolted. He was barely a hundred yards away, still an easy shot, but I let him go. I’d already done too much killing on this trip.

I dragged his friend off the road, dumped the bags of pine needles, doused my fire, and headed for London again. Oh yes--I also had a crossbow now--although I couldn’t understand how it could begin to compare with my longbow. There were also several coins in the dead man’s belongings. As the day progressed, the number of people increased and farms were more frequent. Near sundown, I asked a small group of people traveling away from London how much farther it was and was told it was a two-day walk.

I stopped for a while at a small stream to let the horses graze and water while I changed the dressing on my wound. The bleeding had finally stopped completely even though it still hurt like hell. Before darkness fell, I resumed my pilgrimage, intent on reaching London before first light.

I awoke to snickers when my horse stopped. Sometime during the night, I had fallen asleep in the saddle. My horse had continued on the road, reaching the gates outside of London before dawn. At least a hundred other people were also waiting for the gates to open at sunrise.

Seeing that I was heavily armed, a gruff-looking soldier approached and asked what my business was. “I was sent by the Earl of Lancaster with an important message for the King,” I answered nervously.

“Follow the road along the north bank of the river to Kensington,” he instructed, waving his arm in a southwesterly direction. I thanked him and set off, deriding myself moments later for not asking how much farther it was. Fortunately, I’d barely gone a mile when I spotted the castle a couple of miles away. When I was but half a mile from my goal, I stopped and changed the dressing on my wound, then pulled my “official” vest from my pack and put it on, proudly displaying the crest of the fallen Earl of Lancaster and noting my rank as a corporal in the archers. For the month I’d agreed to join, the Earl had assigned me that rank and accompanying pay grade.

The four guards meeting me this time were less gruff and more serious. They were all business as they asked what my reason for being there was. “I was sent by the Earl of Lancaster with an urgent message for the King,” I replied. The youngest of the four turned and hurriedly headed towards the castle while the other three continued to question me. They were quite impressed with the cargo I had distributed amongst the horses and led me towards the castle.

They were curious why a proficient archer would have a crossbow and three swords with him so I explained about the two bandits, and that the second bow and sword had belonged to my father before he died five days ago in the ambush that also cost the life of the Earl.

That news suddenly created an air of urgency. People from inside the castle hurried out to carry in the saddlebags and more guards came out to escort me inside once I had been disarmed. Pages from the stables showed up to take the horses to care for them, to take charge of my weapons, and even to take Sniffy off to the royal kennel.

I was trembling nervously, waiting to be taken in to see the King. “Are you alright?” one of the guards asked.

“I’m nervous. I’ve never been more than two days from Lancaster before,” I answered. He smiled knowingly. While it seemed like forever, it wasn’t terribly long before one of the huge doors swung open. An older man came out and talked quietly with one of the men guarding me.

A moment later, he nodded and motioned for me to follow him. “You’ll be fine,” the second guard whispered to me.

The room I followed him into was huge. Every man, woman, and child in Lancaster would have fit into it. “Corporal Michael Miller of the Earl of Lancaster’s archers,” the old man next to me boomed, bringing me instantly back to reality. I made my way nervously toward the King, at least remembering to pause at an appropriate distance and genuflect.

“I understand that you have an urgent message from Earl Fitzmoreland?” the King asked.

“Your highness, I fear I must report that the Earl, his family, and the forty troops accompanying him were ambushed and killed on their way here five days ago.”

I could see that he was visibly shaken, but he recovered his composure quickly. “How is it that you managed to escape unharmed?” he asked icily, so I related the story of the last five days to him.

“The Earl was a good man and will be difficult to replace. Your father was also a good man. I offered him a position as the Captain of the Palace Guard. He turned my offer down saying that he would feel out of place in a city like London.”

I smiled, knowing the feeling all too well. I was already starting to feel like a fish out of water, surrounded by courtyards and walls of stone instead of trees and farmland.

Looking at the saddlebags full of money, the King nodded approvingly and looked back at me. “The Earl certainly chose well when he assigned you to this task. Many men would have simply taken the gold and disappeared. It’s a rare and confident man that would even attempt alone to attack eleven men--and even rarer a man who could succeed.”

He motioned to a page while continuing talking to me. “Why don’t you get something to eat, let our doctor look at your wound, and get some sleep? We’ll talk again later today,” he said. “Take him to the hunter’s room,” he instructed a page who made a well practiced bow and motioned for me to follow.

“Thank you, your Highness,” I replied, as I tried, not altogether successfully, to mimic the page’s graceful bow before following.

The hunter’s room was as big as my entire cottage and the bed made the down-filled mattress I surprised Margaret with on our wedding night seem like the pine needles I slept on the other night. The page, Gregory, left right away to get me something to eat.

Not long after Gregory left to find food for me, there was a knock on the door. It was the doctor to look at my wound. He was impressed with how well it was healing and with the combination of herbs I’d used on it. While he was there, two more pages showed up with a large wooden tub and began a parade of servants carrying buckets of hot and cold water to fill it.

When Gregory returned with a breakfast of porridge, venison, bread, and cheese, I ate ravenously, finishing shortly before the tub was filled. While I bathed, Gregory left me a uniform of the Palace Guards explaining that he was taking my clothing to get them washed for me.

I was somewhat disoriented when I woke up, but quickly remembered where I was. The tub was gone; I couldn’t believe that I slept through them emptying it and taking it out! Poor Gregory was sitting near the door, evidently just waiting for me to wake up. “What a tedious job,” I thought to myself.

Seeing me awake, he jumped up. “You’re awake. The King would like you to attend to him outside. He would like a demonstration of your prowess with the bow.”

He managed to steer us through the kitchen where all the women (old and young) seem to have already heard about my exploits. I caught many of them talking in hushed tones and pointing my direction, smiling coyly when I caught them.

We stopped at the barracks where my equipment had been carefully cleaned for me by some of the squires. Both longbows had new bowstrings attached at one end. Since my old strings had gotten wet, I was glad. The last thing I wanted was for my bowstring to break while I was shooting for the King.

“What is this bowstring made from?” I asked a squire when I didn’t recognize the texture.

“The King insisted that we use only the finest silk bowstrings on your bows,” he explained nervously. I was impressed by the quality of the strings and thanked the squire. The looped end of the bowstring was backspliced and wrapped with white thread. They had even wrapped the free end of the bowstring, already tied to the proper length for my bow, and had wrapped the center of the string where I nocked the arrow.

I took both bows with me, wanting to try out Father’s bow. Standing 6’4” at age sixteen, I was only two inches shorter than the final height my father had obtained. His seven-foot bow would give me even greater range if my arms were long enough and strong enough to draw it effectively.

Gregory showed me to the butts to practice, sending one of the squires to let the King know where we were. I started at the mandated minimum of 220 yards. The new strings were stronger and lighter than the hemp strings I was used to and my arrows went further than I was used to. After adjusting my aim, I backed off to 300 yards. A squire handed me a second quiver of arrows when my first one was gone. After putting six in a row into the chest of the target, I backed off to 350 yards, and finally 400 yards. I was surprised at how accurate I was from 400 yards. Normally, 300 yards was my range of choice and 350 the maximum I would attempt a shot I had to make. By the time I finished the third quiver of arrows, I had just put ten in a row into the chest of the target.

It took yet another quiver to get the range for Father’s bow. Once I did, I backed off to four hundred fifty yards, the farthest I could physically go as I was against a wall. My last twelve shots at 450 yards all hit the center of the chest on the target. “I think I just got a new bow,” I thought. It was only when I finished and turned to find Gregory that I realized that nearly everyone in the castle had been watching me from one vantage or another. I bowed to the King who was watching from the ramparts hoping he wasn’t upset with me for not taking notice of him earlier.

The squire took the bow and Gregory led me up to where the King was. “Never have I seen such a demonstration of marksmanship!” the King lauded as I approached.

I was barely able to bow before he grabbed my hand and pulled me back up. “The silk bowstrings added fifty yards, and using my father’s longer bow added another fifty,” I explained.

“But the bow was still in your hands when the arrow was released,” he interjected. I shrugged, conceding the point. Besides, I wasn’t about to argue with the King.

“Well?” the King asked an older man next to him.

This time it was the older man’s turn to shrug. “It would appear that My Lord may be correct,” he agreed.

The King grinned wickedly. “Then let us proceed,” he told the man, who in turn motioned to several pages in the retinue who scattered in different directions.

“Tell me Corporal Miller, if it was up to you to prosecute the battle against the rebellious nobles, how would you go about it?” the King asked.

I’d thought about this for the entire time I’d been traveling south. “The Barons will surely have discovered the dead men by now and will be arming and training every able-bodied man under their command. Most of those men will be average archers, pikemen, or swordsmen. As badly as they wanted the Earl’s horses, I doubt they will have much heavy cavalry; heavy cavalry is expensive and requires a lot of training.

“I would send mounted archers and a small contingent of heavy cavalry north to meet them. They can be there in a few days, much sooner than the Barons would expect them if they were marching. It would also reduce the amount of time the Barons have to plan and prepare for an attack.

“I’d begin the attack with the two Barons in Lancashire. Then move east, going against every noble except the Duke of York. He will have the most troops and the best defenses. Since the vast majority of the people are against the Duke’s plan, it will be easy to use troops from each successive Barony you defeat to increase the number of troops with you. When the Duke of York is the only one left, you will have him surrounded and he will face a vastly superior foe.

“I also think it would be worth taking several good huntsmen along. If so many of the men need to be forced to fight, it might be possible to sneak into a couple of houses at night while they sleep. If the man inside isn’t on the list of traitors, have them show you where the traitors live, sneak into their homes, and take care of the problem quietly,” I suggested, running my finger across my throat.

“By taking out but a handful of the leaders, the rebellion will collapse in each Barony. Those men who remain loyal to the Crown will be spared having to fight against their will, and the only lives lost will be those of the conspirators. Even if you don’t get all the leaders in each Barony, the people will probably be encouraged to finish the job themselves when they discover most of the traitorous leaders are now dead.”

This time the King turned to what I had originally assumed was one of his guards. It was only now that I saw the Captain’s insignia on his uniform. “What do you think?” he asked the Captain.

“Unusual, unorthodox, well thought out, and entirely feasible, especially since they won’t be expecting anything of the sort. Might I also suggest letting everyone here think the archers are just the vanguard and are intended to defend Lancaster? Then send messengers out to each of your nobles requesting them to marshal their forces and be ready. Word of this will surely get back to York and should turn their attention away from the archers you send and towards the main body of forces being marshaled against them. I would also make sure the messengers to the far north warn those nobles of the plot by the nobles of York to gain entrance into their strongholds by deception so they might be more cautious about allowing outside forces inside of their walls,” the Captain suggested.

“See to it,” the King ordered, sending the Captain off to make the necessary arrangements. He then turned his attention back to me. “Corporal Miller, I will be plainspoken. I understand your reluctance to be a professional soldier and your desire to continue to lead your life in the same fashion, as you have grown accustomed. However, I need your loyalty, courage, and ideas to help win this battle against the traitorous nobles of York. Would you be willing to swear an oath of fealty and serve me if you were allowed to return home at the conclusion of the campaign?”

Stunned, I still managed to get my mouth to work. “I would be both honored and willing to do so, your Highness,” I replied.

“Charles, prepare him and see to the necessary arrangements. Attend to me in the throne room,” he barked to yet another advisor who sent several more pages scurrying before Charles led me back to my room.

“What do you know of the ceremony for the oath of fealty?” Charles asked as we walked.

“I know nothing of the actual ceremony, only that no oath should be made or given except that the person making the oath intends to keep it,” I answered.

Once we were back in the hunter’s room, Charles reviewed the basics of the ceremony. Seeing that I was getting overwhelmed with so many details, he reduced it to only what I had to do or say and a cue for each. “There will be much more said and done after you swear your fealty. Listen carefully, and respond accordingly,” he counseled.

While he was giving the explanations, one page brought in a white robe for me to wear and two young female servants entered with a basin of water. They proceeded to wipe me off with warm water after requiring me to strip to my underclothes. I was a bit uncomfortable like this with women other than my wife, but Charles kept my mind off what they were doing and on remembering what I needed to know. Finally, it was time and he led me back to the throne room I had seen for the very first time this morning.

My breath caught in my throat when we were led inside. Rather than a few guards and the handful of people I’d seen this morning, there were dozens of people and nearly a hundred brightly clad guards in attendance. This morning, the room had seemed dark, dreary, and somber. This evening it seemed well lit, festive, and gay.

“Corporal Michael Miller of Lancaster,” the same old man announced. His deep, booming voice resonated through the room cutting off all whispered conversation mid-sentence as everyone turned to look at me. Suddenly quite nervous, I at least remembered to genuflect properly before approaching the King.

I stopped at the appropriate distance while Charles continued to his usual place at the right of the King. The Bishop came forward with a large bible upon which I placed my right hand. Then suddenly, I found my mouth saying the words I had just rehearsed dozens of times. “Your Highness, I become your man from this day forth, for life, for member, and for worldly honor. While I have little in the way of worldly goods, what I own and all that I gain in the future, as well as my services when required will be rendered to you, as my duty is to you, at the times assigned. So help me God.”

“I accept,” the King answered.

That was the end of what I had been prepared for, and I was surprised when a young page hurried over with a cushion and placed it between us. While I’d never seen it, the only thing I knew of requiring such a cushion was the knighting ceremony.

“Is there anyone to speak on behalf of the candidate?” Charles called out loudly.

The Captain of the Palace Guard came forward and answered. “I wish to speak for the candidate, the Earl’s man, on behalf of the deceased Earl of Lancaster.” The King nodded and he continued.

“The written words of the Earl are thus: ‘I wish to introduce Master Michael James Miller, son of John James Miller, the Captain of my troops. You will be hard-pressed to find anyone more honest, loyal, caring of others, or talented with a bow.’”

Lowering the Earl’s message, he added his own words. “Corporal Miller proved his worthiness of such accolades by his actions after the attack on the Earl. He personally tracked down and slew the assassins and four additional men sent by the Duke of York. In spite of being wounded, he made his way here with the money, gems, and message with which he had been entrusted. His advice on how to prosecute the battle against the nobles of Yorkshire shows a keen insight into military matters, and his prowess with a bow as was witnessed earlier today by all in attendance is already becoming legendary.”

When he finished and stepped back, I looked questioningly at Charles and then at the King. Both bore identical knowing grins before the King spoke again.

“Heedful of your prowess on the field of battle and of your honesty and loyalty, I am intended to make you a Knight. Remember always that wearing the belt and chain of a knight is a sacred obligation and trust that will require your vigilance and effort for the rest of your life.

“As a knight, you are expected to love your King, and to faithfully fulfill your duties to him. You are expected to uphold all the laws of the King.

“As a Knight, it is expected that your word be your bond to all; that you will be chivalrous; that you will defend the weak, defenseless, widows, and orphans; and that you will be a champion of all that is right and good.

“Do you wish to accept this burden and reaffirm your fealty to the Crown?”

“I do, your Highness,” I managed to croak.

“Is there a sword you wish to offer in service to the Crown?” he asked. Panicked, I looked to Charles who was nodding gently.

“There is your Highness,” I answered, praying that someone nearby had an extra sword. Again, the Captain of the Palace Guard came forward, this time bearing my father’s longsword.

“Shit,” I thought as my eyes misted over while the Captain girded me with the sword and scabbard.

“A sword has two edges, one to cut to the truth, and one to administer justice in the name of the King. The scabbard is to sheath the sword and to remind a Knight to be merciful,” elucidated the King.

“Is there a belt?” he asked the room. An attractive young woman, probably the daughter of one of the nobles, came forward with the white sash, kneeling and offering it to the King. He nodded to her and she put it on me while he spoke. “The white belt of the Knight is meant as a constant reminder to the Knight of the purity and chastity expected of him, avoiding scandals, slothfulness, gluttony, and lechery.”

“Are there spurs?” he asked. This time, two different young women came forward and presented the gold spurs, putting them on my feet as the King spoke. “Even as a Knight uses his spurs to goad his warhorse, so should these spurs goad the Knight to valor, service, and diligence. Let these spurs goad this Knight to his duty that he might maintain his honor. By placing precious gold near his feet, a Knight shows disdain for worldly things. These spurs should be worn with honor and discretion lest they be taken from you in shame and disgrace.”

“Is there a Coat-of-Arms?” he asked this time. Yet another young woman came forth and presented it to the King before putting it on me. I was a bit surprised they could have made and embroidered it in such a short time. The green cloak had a crest with a blue and white field. An archer, bow drawn, stood at the center of the field. The upper right corner had the head of a wolf and the upper left the head of a boar.

“This coat of arms will ensure that all might recognize you and any from your estate. As the cloak protects the wearer from the harshness of the weather, so does the Knight protect his King from any foes.”