Chapter Six of "The North"

Chapter Six – The ride north.
The company travelled by road at day and slept at night. They had no real rush and as long as they were in their own lands had no fear of enemy spies to alert of their coming and they were deep in friendly territory. The land about Curtelen was treeless and rather dull. It had a familiar grey climate even in summer that which it was a few months back. For now it was autumn and a bitter wind gnawed at the soldiers as they rode onwards. Every so often they would cross a small stone bridge which crossed over small streams. Such streams ran down the side of the hill towards the river and sea. The men drank from small pouches and chatted with one another.
It was the third day of their ride from Curtelen and fog had descended on the company, it was light yet only made the temperature colder. It did not affect the men’s view too much, neither their spirits for they were near to “The T”. The T was a location on the road north of Curtelen where it split into two different directions, south-west to the town of Thort or east to the no-mans-land of “The Gap”. The Gap was a large region in the north that ran down the centre of the land, for the most part it held the Lowlands to its western border and the Easbride and Isles region to the east. Once reaching more and more south it swung west and so the Gap contained all the land south of the Lowlands to the Diver River. The land had been offered to Broderick by the other clan leaders yet still he denied it stating he had no need and would be a hindrance in governing. They began their ride three hours earlier and now, at midday, they reached the T. There was little debate, they went left. A few opted to go right; the shorter route yet meant they had to cross through the Gap. Not particularly dangerous yet it had a reputation for ambushes by runaway deserters and ruffians – outcasts. Peter would not risk the lives of his men, knowing he would need them for taking the fort. Or perhaps he wouldn’t; as Alavor pointed out. Felicia had not been occupied by anyone from their knowledge in many years. Little force was expected. Alavor even opted to cut cross country to go straight on at the T to save time, yet still Peter refused.
‘Are we to stop at Thort?’ asked Alavor. They were a few hours past midday and were making good progress down the road. Peter thought for a moment, but without hesitation.
‘No, Thort is only a small village and I doubt they would welcome one hundred soldiers camping in their yard. And you said it yourself that we should try and cut time’
‘Camble?’ asked Alavor in response. This caused Peter to think a little more.
‘Yes, we could stop there. Only for the night though. It’s a large enough town, doubt they would mind us for a night. So long as we don’t drink ourselves silly and riot’ the two laughed.
‘I doubt that, my lord’ Peter had black hair that fell to his shoulders, having got it from his father and it rustled in the calm wind.
Only a little time had passed by when the fog rose, however the temperature did not. It was the following day and the sun began to set by the time the company got to the turning where they went right, instead of straight on, away from Thort. The small town could be seen in the distance. It was a simple village, many farms lay on the outskirts and within the small wooden palisade rose little homes and, on the hill behind, stood a small wooden keep upon a risen Motte. It was at this cross-road they camped for the night.

The sun rose once again and the company began their ride early.
‘I intend to reach Camble by nightfall’ explained Peter to Alavor as he mounted his horse. Alavor did the same. Around them the tents were being packed, and furs rolled.
‘A sound plan, my lord’ Alavor said ‘The men will want a decent rest before going cross-country in foreign lands. And what’s more Camble is a pleasant town’
And so once more they departed but this time Peter’s thoughts were occupied elsewhere, at home. He had not been anywhere this far away from home without his father before. Yet still he was relieved to have his uncle with him; a renowned fighter and member of the First Knights. He wondered what his brother was doing, and how his mother was coping. Was she still worried for him? The road began to look healthier as they continued. Nobody was certain why, but Alavor presumed it was due to it less being used by the locals.
‘And why is that?’ asked Peter to his uncle.
‘Well, it’s difficult to pinpoint. This is the only road that leads from Camble to Curtelen, and indeed Warroch in the south but there is little trade between those two towns. So one would expect it would be very worn I suppose, my lord’ Alavor thought for a moment more. ‘There has been less trade lately I suppose due to the clansmen raids’
‘Really?’ asked Peter frowning, ‘Are they really that bad?’
‘Look around you, Peter’ said Alavor. ‘Do you see many people?’ Peter did so, he looked around. His uncle was right. There was hardly anybody to be seen. The landscape was generally flat, as it was throughout the lowlands, and even though small farm houses and mills could be seen they looked empty and abandoned. And the fields left mid-harvest.
‘Where is everybody?’ Peter wondered aloud.
‘I’m not certain, most likely they fled to Camble. Rented rooms at the inns, or maybe a few went back the way to Thort, it’s not the safest place but they have a steady garrison. It’s safe enough’
Peter suddenly felt rather uncertain, afraid a little that he had been wandering in unknowingly dangerous lands. Even though he knew no wildmen party would dare attack his company he felt all the same fearful.