Eloc and his serf warriors

Eloc and his Serf Warriors

An old man walked quickly out of a hut to greet the group of warriors. He dropped to his knees with his eyes lowered. “Sir Knight, I beg you, we are a small serf village. Please don’t hurt us.”

Sir Hadley Mortex, a Grandanorian knight sat on his horse overlooking the tiny serf village. To his back, a group of about fifty mounted warriors sat on the steeds looking threatening. The wind blew Hadley’s brown hair into his eyes and he cursed his luck silently.

Hadley was in his mid thirties and was feeling every minute of it. He was dressed in armour passed down from his father and his uncle. It hadn’t been taken good care of or even fit well. It was of an older bronze make, with an ill fitting helmet and a half-singed-off plume. The cuirass had a nasty dent which wasn’t hammered out properly. Its shin and thigh guards slightly too big and the extra padding made him sweat. A muddy green surcoat with the complex coat-of-arms symbol, a dragon eating his own leg while spitting fire, sat over his armour hiding some of the dented armour. A kite shield hung off his saddle horn. It too was battered and dented.

His men-at-arms were strong loyal men; they fought for him, trusting him with their life. Though they wore a motley assortment of armour, which included everything from leather to full bronze cuirasses, these fifty-five men were some of the finest Sir Hadley had to offer.

The serfs were in the fields busily planting the crops. The village was a collection of about a hundred and fifty small huts which were bunched into groups. It gave the village no obvious plan with no real street.

A mounted warrior rode out in from of the knight, “We are not going to hurt you, but my lord does require your assistance for a few minutes. Gather your people in that square right over there and let us speak with them.”

“Ye. Yes, my lord.” The serf stammered. The old man hurried off to the fields.

In short order every serf in the village was gathered in the square. They wore rags and were visibly malnourished. They were all scared and frightened that the bronzed warriors were going to kill them all.

“Is everyone here, Corporal Joque?” Sir Hadley asked the mounted warrior.

“Looks like it, my lord.” The corporal replied, “Is everyone here my good man” Corporal Joque asked the old man.

“Yes, my lord.” The old serf replied quickly.

“My name is Sir Hadley Mortex,” the Knight began he rode forward so that all of the serfs could see him, “I need volunteers. I need fifty men from age fifteen to fifty, who can see lightning, hear thunder, and who can run fast. I am going up against your tyrant lord and I am offering you freedom. It is not given out very often, only in crisis times, like this civil war. In my army, you will be given three meals a day and a pint of mead each night. Any who survive the battle will be granted freedom and a position as a man-at-arms. After twenty years of service, you’ll get land to live on.”

The serfs started to mutter to themselves.

“Your lord, Sir Jean de Moutiqe, has disobeyed our wise and good King. It is my task to put a stop to him.” Sir Hadley said after a few minutes. “Your King requires your assistance.”

Eloc, a young man who looked no more than seventeen stepped forward, “My lord, if I join up, I am no longer a serf?”

The serfs hushed and one of the older men cuffed him.

“If you join up, you are a freeman.” The knight replied.

“I can go wherever I want to?” Eloc asked.

“If you live for twenty years in my service, you will get a nice plot of land as a pension.”

“I also get fed.” Eloc said, “What about women?”

“Corporal.” Sir Hadley asked, “Do you get lots of women?”

“I need to fight them off with a stick, my lord” The corporal replied with a grin

“I volunteer.” The young man said walking forward a couple steps and knelling before the mounted knight.

A large man, Eloc’s father, rushed forward grabbing the young serf, “You will only get yourself killed.” He bowed to the Knight, “I am sorry, my lord. My son is young and stupid. He doesn’t know what he is saying.”

“I will die of hunger here if I stay. I am the seventh son and there are three more younger than I. There is nothing here for me. Let me go.” Eloc yelled out.

“How old are you, Son?” Sir Hadley asked with interest.

“I am of seventeen summers, my lord.” Eloc said with a bow.

“Looks like you are a man then,” Sir Hadley said, “Welcome to my army.”

The father let his hand go as three more of his sons joined the young man. Suddenly there were fifty volunteers kneeling in front of the knight.

“You are all going to die!” the father yelled, “My sons are dead to me!”

“Watch your tongue knave!” The Corporal yelled out drawing his sword.

“Corporal Joque. Take five men and take these men to the encampment.” Sir Hadley said to corporal.

“Yes sir.” The corporal replied briskly. He pointed to the group of five men-at-arms. “Get these volunteers moving.” To the serf warriors. “Forward march men. We don’t have all day, now do we. March!”

The men-at-arms and the newly created serf warriors marched down the muddy fields and grew smaller in the distance.

Once they were out of view, Sir Hadley looked at the boy’s father with an angry look in his eye, “You spoke out of line.” He continued to his men, “Break his legs. Teach him how to speak to his betters.”

Sir Hadley rode away while his men grabbed the father and dragged him into the middle of the square.

“No!” The father yelled, “You can’t do this to me!”

“Shut up!” A man-at-arms yelled out hitting the father with the handle of an axe.

Four small stakes were hammered into the ground in a square about six feet from each other. They quickly tied Eloc’s father’s hands and feet to the stakes. The men-at-arms then smashed his legs with the back of their axes.

Eloc marched for what seemed like hours. He had never walked this far before. He was exited and scared at the same time. He couldn’t explain it if he tried. Corporal Joque had forbidden them to talk. The corporal had said that talking waste’s energy and less energy means that they don’t make camp as quickly as they could have.

During the long march, he was joined by his three brothers. His two older brothers were Adon, Galak, and his third brother was his younger brother Danix. Adon was in his early twenties, while Galak was a year younger. His younger brother, Danix was a year younger than Eloc.

The sun set an hour before they reached their destination, but they kept on walking.

Soon they reached the top of a hill and an encampment spread out in the distance. It was surrounded by a wooden palisade and sported a ditch which served as a moat. Along one side of the encampment was a row of six catapults looked menacing and dangerous stood guard against any potential threat. Camp fires and torches gave the encampment a closterphobic feeling as he entered its walls. It was dirty and smelly. It was smelling like urine and something much worse.

The encampment was filled with men-at-arms and serf warriors. They all seemed busy moving from one place to the next. A group of serfs stood around a huge bonfire dancing and singing.

“The lord isn’t going to like that.” Corporal Joque muttered under his breath, “You men march to that orange flag. A Sergeant there will see to your needs.”

The serfs walked towards the orange flag. Before they got to it, a burly Sergeant stopped them. “All right you dogs, this way. Follow me.”

He took them around the encampment to a pile of poles and other equipment.

“All right,” he said picking up a pole, which had one end fire hardened. “Take one of these, a leather cap and a wooden shield. Then make your way to that group of serfs there. Get some food and ale in you. You are going to need it.”

A leather cap was stuck on his head and a spear and shield stuck in his hands. Eloc wasn’t sure if his spear would actually be able to kill a man. His shield seemed like it was falling apart. Eloc cringed as sticky blood dripped onto his cheek. He quickly took off the helmet and wiped the blood off his face.

“What’s wrong little brother?” Galak asked.

“There’s blood in my helmet.” Eloc said.

“Probably from its previous owner.” Adon said without out cracking a smile.

Eloc and his brothers walked through a group of Serf Warriors.

“Dad looked mighty angry.” Eloc said.

“He’ll get over it.” Danix said.

“I still feel bad.” Eloc said.

“Don’t, little brother.” Galak said. “There is no reason too.”

“Sure there is.” Eloc said, “We are going to die with father angry at us.”

A painful silence spanned the course of a few minutes as the four brothers found a space by a smaller camp fire with their fellow villagers scattered around the fire.

A young man from their village was poking at the fire with his spear. An old man, who was not from their village walked over, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Something tells me that you are going to need that.”

The youngster stopped and began to eat some stew.

“Do you know what we are going to attack?” Eloc asked the old man.

“You didn’t see the castle?” The old man asked.

“We got here in the dark.” Adon said.

“I see.” The old man said, “We are attacking Castle de Moutiqe.”

“Castle de what?” Galak said.

“About seven hundred yards of tilled, muddy earth lies the castle. We have to charge up a nice gentle slope all the way with no cover. It has walls that are twice the size of a man and it sports murder holes along its top.”

“Murder holes?” Eloc said.

“Overhangs which allow the enemy to drop rocks on our heads.” The old man said continuing. “It takes away all hiding places. All men are targets.”

Adon took a deep breath and swallowed. “Can’t we go in the gate?”

“The gate has murder holes above you and arrow slits at each side which makes battering down the gates impossible. Going up the wall is the only way.” The old man said, “Once you get up the wall lies the centre stone keep. It is higher than the wall so that it can fire arrows down on the walls if it needs to.”

“So all we need to do is to charge across the open field while arrows kill us.” Eloc said.

“Yes.” The old man said.

“Then we climb up ladders to get to the top of the walls?” Eloc continued.

“Oh, but first you have to cross the moat.”

“The moat?” Galak asked.

“A dry ditch that is filled with sharp wooden stakes that point threateningly towards us.” The old man said.

“We have to attack that?” Adon asked.

“Probably the first ones in. Get them use up all of their missiles and hot liquids on us.” The man muttered.

“What’s your name?” Eloc asked.

“Georg.” The old man said, “You?”

“The name’s Eloc.” Eloc said, “Have you done this before?”

“Yes.” Georg said.

“Then why aren’t you a Man-at-arms?” Eloc asked.

“The Knight, that I followed, went against his word.”

“Oh.” Eloc said. “Who was the Knight?”

“Our leaders father.” Georg said with distaste walking away from the fire into the darkness.

Eloc, while shuffling his spear to his shield hand grabbed a bowl of stew. As he was eating the stew, Georg walked over.

“Hey Georg.” Eloc said.

“Hi.” Georg said, “Tomorrow is going to be hell.”

They all nodded and Georg continued, “I am going to be our leader. Any objections?”

No one said a word and Georg walked away.

After everyone had eaten and Eloc had some ale, some serfs started to sing.

“What’s the point of singing if we know that we are going to die?” Eloc said.

“Yes we are going to die.” A drunk said, “But is this is to be our last night on earth, lets make it one to remember.”

Eloc and the serfs drank and sang, and then drank some more. After some time, he passed out.



Meanwhile, inside the pavilion of Sir Hadley, Hadley sat at a small table with a few men including Corporal Joque and the burly sergeant standing in front of him.

“Are they still singing?” Hadley asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Corporal Joque confirmed.

Sir Hadley groaned and looked down at his papers.

“I have both the King and the Mayor begging for my loyalty.” Sir Hadley said, “Sir Jean de Moutiqe supports the Mayor-of-the-Palace. I want his castle. If I take it, I become the King’s servant.”

“The king is a moron, my lord.” A man-at-arms said, “He gave his power away.”

“So is the Mayor-of-the-Palace.” Sir Hadley said, “But the King didn’t give it away. He lent it.”

“Lent, given. What’s the difference, my lord?”

“The difference is that all of this land is the Kings.” Sir Hadley said. “And he can take it back if it is his will.”

The man-at-arms bowed deeply.

“Oh stop that.” Sir Hadley said, “Aren’t we all friends here?”

“Yes my lord.”

Sir Hadley laughed. “Okay. Drink up. Tomorrow we support the King.”

“Long live the King! Long live the King!” The armoured warriors cheered.



Eloc had slept fitfully that night dreaming of his death. Before sunrise, a rather large foot kicked Eloc in the stomach. He awoke with a start.

“Up and be quiet. No talking. Assemble outside the castle side of the encampment.” He kept whispering over and over again as the serfs gathered where he said.

There were more than five hundred serfs gathered, and all of them were scared. Laying on the ground were some sixty ladders. All fifteen feet long.

“Pick those up. We are going to need those too.” Georg the old man said.

Groups of them picked them up and prepared for the worst. Eloc grabbed one end while Galak grabbed the other end. Adon and Danix were close by to shield them from harm.

Behind the serfs, the men-at-arms had gathered inside the encampment. They were about seven hundred in number.

Sir Hadley rode out of the encampment to the group of serfs. “Have you men picked a leader?”

“I am, my lord.” Georg said.

“All right. You are to lead these men and storm the castle. Once you are on the wall, you are to fight your way to the gatehouse. Open up the gate and let us in. Your signal for attack shall be the orange flag waving.” With that, he turned and rode into the encampment.

A few minutes later the six catapults started to fire. Rocks about the size of a mans head flew towards the castle ramparts. Many missing the wall to thud into the earth in front, while others flew over top of the walls. Some hit the ramparts, showering them with broken stones.

The bombardment kept up for a good half hour. Just as the sun was coming up, a red flag with a black spear on it started to wave. Georg yelled, “Forward! For freedom!”

“For freedom!” The serfs echoed raising their spears up in the air.

The group of serf warriors surged forward. They all ran as fast as they could. Eloc remembers being propelled forward by his brother.

A bunch of serfs fell behind, while others ran up ahead.

As the Serf Warriors reached an invisible line, a thud of catapults rang out from the castle and rocks flew overtop of the walls towards the serfs. Many missiles missed and crashed into the earth around them, while a couple crashed into the serfs sending heaps of bloody flesh flying in multiple directions.

“Keep going! Freedom! Freedom!” Georg yelled over the screaming men.

Eloc ducked and was scared, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other.

“Keep going!” Adon yelled, “For father!”

No one echoed the war cry as another rock slammed into a nearby ladder sending splinters everywhere. A few serfs fell in pain as splinters whistled through the air. The men behind jumped over the sprawled bodies.

Soon the serf warriors crossed another invisible line and huge six foot long ballista bolts flew from the castle walls to slam into running serfs. Bolts slammed through four or five men before digging themselves into the earth.

Eloc felt the fear and the exhilaration of this death defying run. He never felt so alive before. Suddenly a bolt whistled through the air to stick Danix in the chest. The bolt threw him back to dig itself into the ground with Danix sprawled on the ground.

“Danix! No!” Eloc yelled, but he kept running tears running down his face. A look of determination sprang on his face as he started to run faster.

From the castle walls, archers appeared on the ramparts. A sheet of arrows flew from their bows as a rock fell behind the running serf. Eloc watched the arrows rise up in the air and then it started to rain arrows. Eloc hastily raised his shield as sheets of them struck down men while others embedded themselves into their shields.

Two arrows stuck his shield and another struck Galak in the face sending him to the ground. The ladder hit the ground and Eloc grunted harshly as he slammed to a halt. Another man picked up the ladder and kept running pulling Eloc with him.

“Galak!” Eloc yelled as other men passed over the sprawled body of his older brother.

The serf warriors screamed as they ran into the moat. The moat was curved in such a way that if you ran down it, you would impale yourself on the steaks. Many serfs did. Eloc stumbled into the moat and hit a dead body already impaled on the stakes.

He grunted with pain, “Get those ladders up!” He yelled as he started to climb out of the moat.

He grabbed at his ladder and pulled it behind him as he climbed up the wall of stakes.

Rocks, which were the size of a fist, fell from the walls. They crashed on serfs heads as they tried to climb up the moat. Arrows struck men down and it seemed like Eloc wouldn’t make it up the wall. Soldiers got to the top of the wall of stakes, only to be struck down with an arrow in the eye. Eloc pulled himself to the top and stuck the ladder against the wall.

He held the ladder steady while other serfs climbed as fast as they could up the ladder holding their shields above their heads. Rocks and other debris fell on them as they clamoured up the ladder. Some serfs fell off the ladder as they died, while others fell into the rungs till another serf pulled him off.



Sir Hadley sat on his horse with his fifty-five mounted men. To his right stood seven hundred men-at-arms on foot. They carried two score ladders as well. The serfs were attempting to scale the wall. A trail of broken and dead men stretched across the muddy field with the bodies growing thicker closer to the wall.

Sir Hadley watched the serfs clamour next to the wall. “Come on. Climb that ladder.” He muttered under his breath.

“Looks like they aren’t even going to get on top of the wall.” Corporal Joque said, “Stupid thralls.”

“Thralls?” A mounted warrior said, “I thought that they are serfs.”

“Thrall is the term that the mayor-of the-palace uses to insult them.” Sir Hadley said, “But I agree. They aren’t going to get to the top. Send in the men-at-arms.”

“Yes sir.” The mounted warrior said waving a red flag with a sword on it.

The men-at-arms started walking forward at a slow march. There armour jingling and clanking as the marched forward.


All around Eloc, he saw death. He knew that Danix and Galak were dead, but what of Adon, he thought. He looked around and couldn’t see him.

Eloc heard a scream and looked over as he saw the enemy push a ladder away from the wall with a long pole. Men on the ladder screamed again and some jumped off while others clung to the ladder. The ladder teetered for a second and then fell to the ground with a crash. Seconds later, the ladder was pushed up against the wall again and new men started to climb up it.

Eloc looked up and saw Georg get to the top of the ladder. An enemy in a bronze cuirass swiped the Georg’s head off with a single stoke of his battle axe. The man’s body fell to the ground, to lie on the ground beside Eloc.

Panic filled Eloc as he watched the severed head fall into the moat. Eloc turned and climbed up the ladder yelling a war cry.

Another man took the job of holding the ladder steady.

Up and up he went. The serfs above him fell one by one to the axeman on the wall. Suddenly, Eloc was on top of the ladder. He blocked an axe stroke on his shield and then shoved his spear into the axeman’s face, killing him, knocking him back. The axeman fell with a clatter and Eloc quickly pulled himself onto the top of the wall.

With all of his might, he flicked and swung his spear trying to stay alive. He struck at an archer and caved in his face, sending him over the wall into the courtyard of the castle. He then twirled around to strike another man in the chest, sending him to fall on the serfs climbing up the wall. He struck at any enemy who tried to get close to him. For what seemed like forever he swung.

He wasn’t thinking. He just kept moving his spear at enemies. It was almost like Eloc saw what the enemy was going to do a second before they did it. He suddenly felt amazed and exhilarated in what he was doing. He started to laugh a scary laugh as he saw his enemies fall away.

He rushed an archer who was trying to draw a bead on him. He bashed him with his shield, sending him over the wall. He turned to swing at a man who appeared behind him, but it turned out to be another serf. The two of them fought back to back as they tried to keep each other alive. An arrow struck his companion in the throat sending him to the rampart floor in a heap.

Eloc charged the archer sticking his spear into his guts. He pushed the archer off the wall letting go of the spear to fall with him. He picked up a discarded battle axe from the ground and smashed in another Archers face. Soon serfs were getting to the top unmolested as Eloc had them trying to kill him instead of the men on the ladders.

“You few,” Eloc shouted to a group of four serfs “hold them away from our back! The rest of us, to the gatehouse!” Eloc yelled.

“Freedom!” The serfs cried as they followed Eloc.

The serfs charged into the waiting enemy men-at-arms. While most of the serfs were cut down, some, including Eloc, fought their way through the enemy. Soon the number of serfs on the walls numbered about eighty. They fought hard and pushed back the enemy till they were fighting to get inside the gate house.

Eloc smashed his axe into an enemy man-at-arms and then followed the stroke up with another blow into his face as the enemy hit the ground.

The gatehouse sat above the gate with a mechanical lock holding the gate locked and a steaming cauldron of molten lead sitting above a murder hole in the floor. More murder holes were cut into the floor in random places.

Eloc fought with his axe killing many men as he made his way to the drawbridge lock. He kicked the lock and it came undone sending the draw bridge crashing to the ground.

“Kill the archers. Kill the archers!” Eloc yelled as he decapitated one. Another was losing as many arrows into the serfs as he could fire till one cut off his arm with a sword.

In the middle of the house was a cauldron full of molten lead. “Pull it this way. To the stairs.” Eloc yelled at the serfs. They pulled the cauldron to the stairs that lead down to the courtyard from the gate house. Eloc could hear the fighting down below. A couple of loud clatters and a rush of footsteps up the stairs echoed up from below. Eloc kicked over the cauldron sending molten lead crashing down the stairs. Screams of burning men grew loud and then silent.

“Get that metal gate up!” Eloc cried.

With straining effort, the windlass turned and the metal gate opened up. They locked it off quickly with the butt of a broken spear.

“Alright,” he looked at the fifty men that were left, “we still have to open the gates. You,” he pointed to one close to an arrow slit, “Are they near yet?”

“Yes sir. They are getting close.” the serf soldier said.

“Let’s go let them in. Grab a better weapon if you haven’t already.” Eloc ordered and lead them down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs there were the bodies of a half dozen serfs and another half dozen enemy men-at-arms. Twenty feet away, next to the gate was a group of seven men-at-arms with interlocked shields, bracing for the charge.

Eloc and his serfs charged out of the doors with a near fanatic roar. Eloc chopped the arm off one soldier and then bashed him with his handle. The other serfs charged into the waiting soldiers. The fight was over short, but Eloc noticed that a score or more of his serfs were down.

“Get the gate open!” Eloc yelled as he turned to face the courtyard.

Eloc held the weapon threateningly as an enemy knight marched up towards the group of serfs holding an ugly looking hammer. Behind him a group of thirty men-at-arms followed him.

Eloc looked at his frightened serfs trying to pry the gate open. He knew that he was going to die.

"For freedom!" Eloc yelled as the gate swung open. Just as Eloc stepped forward to charge, Sir Hadley and his men-at-arms galloped over the draw bridge with lances brandished.

Eloc jumped out of the way as the horses rode past them and into the enemy.

Sir Hadley crashed into the enemy soldiers. Behind him were the other men-at-arms who ran into the castle. The fight was brief with the enemy knight being skewered on Sir Hadley’s lance. The remaining enemy men-at-arms surrendered.

“Sergeant.” Sir Hadley said as he got off of his horse.

The burly Sargent yelled, “Yes sir!” He turned to his men, “Strip the prisoners of weapons and armour. I want them out in the fields digging a big grave.”

The serfs had stayed out of the way inside the gatehouse while the professionals finished the fight. Eloc was now sitting on the now hardened lead encrusted stairs looking toward the marching men-at-arms.

Tears fell down his face and his hands started to shake. He dropped his axe to the ground and held his head in his hands.

After a short while, Corporal Joque walked up to him. “Gather your serfs and bring them to the courtyard.”

“Yes my lord.” He replied grabbing his axe. Eloc quickly ran up the stairs to where the other serfs were resting.

“Sir Hadley wants us out in the courtyard. Quickly.” Eloc ordered.

The serfs marched into the courtyard. A group of prisoners were dragging dead men outside of the castle where another group were digging a giant grave for all of the dead men.

“I see that some of you have already pilfered the enemy dead.” Sir Hadley commented, noting the different weapons that each were holding. “You are to give back any piece of equipment that you were issued yesterday and find something better from the enemy dead. I’m sure that you can find something. You are all now men-at-arms.”

Sir Hadley turned and walked into the keep.

Corporal Joque turned to the group of serfs. “Gather up your own dead and help bury them.” The corporal paused for a second. “You.” He pointed at Eloc.

“Sir!” Eloc said.

“I noticed that you lead the men on the walls.” Corporal Joque said.

“Sir?”

“You are incharge of them until you are told otherwise.”

“Yes sir.” Eloc said as Corporal Joque walked away, “What about the wounded?”

“Put the wounded in the courtyard.” Corporal Joque said as he entered the keep.

Eloc said walking towards the walls, “We’ll start with the walls and the gatehouse. Just drag them or drop them over the walls unless you want to drag them down all of those steps.”