Chapter Seven of "The North"

Chapter Seven. Peter and the men reach the town of Camble

Chapter Seven – The town of Camble
The cold wind had returned with a vengeance and the men were glad to see the warming sight of Camble in the distance in the late evening gloom, it was cloudy and no sunset could be seen. The road crossed over a large stone bridge, but not over a river or stream but a long man-made ditch that ran into the distance on either side. After crossing that the road granted the option to bank right, the company continued straight forward as the road was now straight and flat. Soon enough they stood outside the closed gate, the town was quiet but a few guards could be seen at the top of the wall discussing in the gatehouse. Finally another guard appeared, muttered a few words and the gate swung open. The company entered the large courtyard and dismounted. From the yard lead away three streets. One straight on to the fort, the left lead to another large square with the stables and many high large wooden stocked houses. And the street right lead curved past a stone, plain building with many windows and doors. Little fires of torches lit the town even in the dark. It was no doubt a large town, for it was the old capital of the lowlands before Curtelen was founded. Down from the fort marched a large man in armour, similar armour to Alavor’s. Along with a few of the town guards that came down from their posts on the walls to greet the arrivals. Alavor gestured at the man coming from the fort to Peter.
‘He is the captain of the guard here. One of the First Knights’ Peter nodded in approval and walked over to shake his hand.
‘An honour and pleasure to have you here, my lord’ said the man. Peter bowed briefly.
‘Thank you. My men need a place to sleep for the night is it possible?’
‘Yes, yes’ the man began, ‘my partner Falar, the other first knight stationed here is out on a patrol with most of our men out in the gap, investigating some rebel disturbances’ The three began their walk up to the fort. ‘The garrison quarters are practically empty and will do the night for your men’
Peter looked troubled.
‘Surely you are aware of the raids from the clansmen?’ pressed Peter, ‘Aren’t they a greater threat?’
‘Such disturbances have only arisen of late in the last two weeks, my lord. My partner, and brother, Falar left on the patrol many weeks ago. I’ve sent riders to tell him to return’
‘I see’ said Peter slowly before gesturing to Alavor. ‘This is my uncle, Alavor, I’m sure you have met at some point, however I have not’ said Peter turning back to the man. ‘What is your name?’
‘Talar, my lord. You shall be staying in the fort tonight. As are you, my friend’ Talar said to his comrade Alavor.

It was late at night, all of the men had made their way to the garrison quarters to find rest, all except Talar, Peter and Alavor who sat around a table in the highest room in the keep. Telling tales of the past while sipping on fine wine.
‘Tell me, my lord’ said Talar ‘What do you know of the great war? How much has your old man told you?’ Peter sat for a moment thinking past his intoxication.
‘Well’ he slurred slowly, clearly not being the best at handling his wine. ‘The southerners attacked us for no reason. No, wait. They attacked us wanting more land I think? Greedy poachers they are, the lot of them. Their lands span far greater distances that the north yet they still wanted to turn our domains into sheep fields, our castles to stables’
‘Good, anything else’ interrupted Talar slumped in his chair. Alavor was silent listening intently.
‘Well, the first move they took was taking Curtelen. And they took that without a problem’ he spoke shamefully imagining his home being pillaged and stolen so easily.
‘Not quite, little lord’ leaned Talar quietly. It was a silent room and even the fire had died out, only a few torches lit the room and candles on the table. ‘For actually they took Warroch first, then the refugees from there fled to Curtelen. That didn’t exactly go so well for them’ he drifted off.
‘Well whatever the hell they did first taking Curtelen was their grand prize. And it was hardly difficult for them to get’ blurted Alavor, his feet raised on the table slouching in his chair.
‘Aye, little did they know your great, great, grandfather was on his way south, Peter’ he said ‘Now that would be your great, grandfather, Alavor’ Alavor nodded.
‘And?’ pursued Peter.
‘And!’ Talar coiled ‘he gave them such a kicking the south have been afraid of us northmen ever since! He cut the throat of the invader’s greedy lord and threw his body into Curtelen’s river. That is what happened!’ he boomed proudly. ‘They got so scared of us they built an entire damn river to keep us out’ he laughed referring to the Diver to the south.
‘This greedy lord, who was it?’ asked Peter.
‘Now, that would be a reference to the courteous Earl Hindar of the south. Curse the greedy sod’ said Talar, words like venom.
‘He sat on your father’s throne in Curtelen, boy’ said Talar to Peter. ‘And that’s exactly the place your ancestor cut the earl’s throat. Apparently he didn’t even try and fight back!’
Peter had heard all the tales. How the brave northern king battled fiercely against the forces of the south in their stolen capital. And when they reached the castle and swung open the doors there he sat; Hindar wearing the Northern Crown looking down at the northerners spilling into the hall. All blood-thirsty for revenge. And the honour fell to his ancestor. His great, great, grandfather Baranson McAllan, yet there was no fight nor duel. The Earl took off the crown and spat on it as Baranson approached him across the hall furious, drawing his sword brutally. The earl then threw the crown at the northern king. There are many different endings to the tale though. The northerners say the earl cowered behind the throne trembling and begging mercy. The southerners say the earl drew his sword and cut down hundreds of the “northern scum” before dying valiantly. Whereas the mysterious men from the east in Scandon just refuse to believe such a thing ever even happened. And even to that day the earl’s yellowed and decaying scull hung on chains from the northern guard posts of the Olcros Bridge.
‘Ah, the night is late, lads’ said Talar. ‘If you beg my leave I will turn in; I advise you to do the same, my lord. Long ride lies ahead of you and yet still you must reach with will and endurance to fight if the fort is occupied by the clansmen’ Peter took a final sip from his cup and placed it heavily on the table. Alavor helped Talar to his feet and they began out the room. Peter stayed behind for a little while longer.