

# Three Slaves of Rome

# Book One:
Quiet Brook Publishing

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 by Matthew Wilson all rights reserved.

THREE SLAVES OF ROME BOOK 1

All characters in this book have no existence outside the author's imagination.

For contact information and any other questions visit our website at ThreeSlaves.com

ISBN: 978-0-9838210-1-4 Paperback Book 1 & 2

ISBN: 978-0-9838210-2-1 eBook Book 1

ISBN: 978-0-9838210-3-8 eBook Book 2

### Preface

During the glory days of the Roman Empire, seven Irishmen living in the midst of a violent war are captured and taken into slavery. Crossing paths with a lifelong slave, friendships are forged that lead them into an amazing adventure.

They traverse the known world, seeking a treasure dear to them. Some find love, but all encounter incredible obstacles and find themselves facing impossible odds.

### Prologue

Her screams shattered the stillness of the night. "Tieg!! Tieg!!!" He jerked from a sound sleep, seized with panic. He sat upright in bed, searching for her.

Terrorized people were screaming throughout the village. As the grass roofs caught fire, he could see shimmering lights as though he were looking through a watery surface; his head felt as if he was beneath one.

He thought he could see shadowy images approaching from the doorway across the room. He scrubbed desperately at his eyes to clear them, but he was unable to comprehend through his intoxicated blur. A seemingly light brush against his brow caused him to fall back onto the bed. He struggled to rise, but then succumbed to the heaviness that tugged at him.

### Chapter 1

He awoke to the feeling of needles in his backside; his head throbbed. Still disoriented, he probed at the sticky damp knot on his brow. His heart sank as his memory began to clear and he remembered the assault, the fire, and her screams. He raised his head up sharply to survey his surroundings and immediately regretted the move.

He dropped his head again. The pain bounced around inside his skull, causing bright colors to burst before his eyes. He blinked hard into the darkness, but could see nothing. Suddenly, he began to slide across the rough boards on which he sat. His stomach sank as he guessed what had happened.

The ship dropped into the trough of one wave and then slammed against the next. As the ship began to climb a huge swell, he could feel his body slip across the boards again until stopping with a jerk as he reached the end of his shackles. His wrists burned as the edge of the metal rings scored deeply into his open wounds. He pressed his feet into the floor to adjust his position and try to relieve the pain.

A muggy heat had replaced the cool night air; the crisp freshness was long gone. In its place, choking him, was the revolting stench of fecal matter and urine.

Though he did not know the ship's destination, he knew the intent of its owners. They planned to sell him at some slave market. It was a common occurrence in his day, the very thing had happened to his father.

### Chapter 2

### Eight years earlier:

"We can thin out our herd and make do with the forest and the small valleys that we still have! That valley is not worth men's lives!" Tieg's father exclaimed, as he stood before the clan, pleading for peace.

"We would have to thin our herds to half before they could make it on the small valleys we have left and what they can forage in the forest!" A sour-faced man barked.

"Not half. If pressed to the point of necessity, we will come up with solutions. We always have; and if not, then who cares if we must thin to half. That is still better than your blood and the blood of our friends on the battlefield. What if we lose? What if we lose badly enough that they chase us all the way to our homes and burn down our village, taking us and our loved ones into slavery?"

"Are you saying we are weaker than they?"

Without waiting for Tieg's father to answer, an older man jumped to his feet, and angrily shouted, "This man should not be allowed to speak like this! He is doing nothing but sowing fear into the men."

"No, he is right! Let him speak! There is no real reason why we stand a better chance than they. With that being the case, we could lose in this way, and we will most certainly suffer loss," someone said in defense of Tieg's father.

Then another bent on war stood; this one calmer than the rest. "That is an excellent point. There is no reason why we stand a better chance than they. That is why I wanted to hold this meeting. I have a plan that will give us a real reason as to why we stand to win and regain our grazing fields." Now every eye was on this new speaker. Every eye except Tieg's, who thought no one would notice his staring since his gaze went right past the speaker. It rested on the lovely red-haired daughter of Riordan.

There was no question in her father's mind as to whether or not she noticed; the only question he pondered was if she was encouraging it. He watched as she smiled shyly and lowered her lashes. He was of the opinion that she was indeed encouraging it. In fact, he felt so strongly of the matter that he kept her locked away, never allowing her to speak to the lad. Riordan abruptly moved his daughter slightly to the left, so that a large man blocked Tieg's view of her. He shot Tieg an ill-tempered look to further discourage the lad. Used to it by now, Tieg only sighed and turned his attention back to what was being said.

"We number many more than they, if we engage our younger people." At the outbreak of murmurs, he quickly continued, "Now, I do not mean place them in harm's way, of course. We have the advantage of a safe perch that the enemy does not have. On the south end of the valley, just to the left of our position, there is a very high ridge--too steep to shoot an arrow up, but perfect for raining arrows down upon the enemy."

"They will have shields just as they always have. This will not have any effect on them," Tieg's father stated, now angry.

After many hours of debating, they decided to let the majority decide.

In one last attempt, Tieg's father stood and quietly spoke, "You have heard all of the arguments brought before you today, but I tell you that you have only heard two reasons why we should go to war: greed and hatred. We do not need that valley. To go to war for it would simply be for greed. Yes, they have killed our loved ones and we theirs. Spilling more blood only leads to more blood being spilled. We are in no danger here, nor do we need anything they have."

### Chapter 3

Tieg sat on a rock overlooking the hillside where the sheep he had been tasked to watch were foraging. Here the trees were sparse, allowing enough sunlight for vegetation to grow. A thick fog lay across the ground, the sunlight causing it to shine white; the sheep, scattered about, slowly disappeared into it. With low visibility often being the case in this area, there were three other posts keeping watch, as well.

Suddenly Tieg felt something poke him. Startled, he bolted from the rock and, in lightning speed, whirled with sword drawn. His father, eyes huge in surprise, stood still holding the stick with which he had been poking the lad. "Whoa, if you were half as vigilant as you are fast, you would never lose a sheep."

Laughing, Tieg lowered his sword, his nerves beginning to calm. "What are you doing out here? I was under the impression that you were retired since I became of age to sit with the sheep."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You sleeping late every day."

"Yes, I can see why you would misconstrue that," Tieg's father said with a chuckle as he climbed onto the large rock and sat. "I did my time out here. For a long time, there were so few in our clan that I had to be out here every day, freezing, wet, and miserable. God bless your mother, she would often come out and keep me company. You lads only have to do this every three days."

"Speaking of Mother, where is she?"

"At home, by the fire."

"Tell her thanks for the partiality," he grumbled as he took a seat next to his father and looked back out over the sheep.

His father just chuckled.

"Why the petulant disposition and faraway look, lad?"

"I cannot believe that they voted for the war, after all you said."

"'The love of money is the root of all evil.' That is what that old priest says, and he ought to be an authority on the subject--he is the most evil son of a bitch I know."

Still troubled, Tieg seemed not to even notice what was said. "You are not going to fight are you?"

"Yes, son, I will have to."

"Why?" Tieg asked indignantly as he stood and turned to face his father. "These sheep are not fat, but they are healthy. They will be fine without that valley!"

"I am aware of this, if you recall. That has nothing to do with why I fight. If you can calm down and have a seat, I would be glad to explain it to you."

Tieg eased back into his previous position and said nothing. "Let me tell you a story I saw with my own eyes. I do not think you need the story to understand my reason, but rather to understand the gravity of my reason.

"When I was a child, your grandfather took me to the top of a very steep bank; somehow someone had gotten a large boulder up there. We sat completely still and silent, and a few hours later in the evening, five deer came walking along the trail at the bottom of the bank. When they were just under the boulder, my father cut the rope and gave it a push. We looked over to see four deer running in different directions, but one young deer just stood there, his eyes open so wide that his eyeballs would have fallen out if they were not attached. You could see the weight shifting from his right leg, to his left, then back again. The other deer had run in so many different directions that he could not decide which was right for him. With this division in his mind, he made the worst mistake of all."

Tieg looked questioningly at his father who promptly continued his story. "Even though the clan makes stupid decisions and takes us in a terrible direction, we are still better off _with_ them. If our unity falls apart, we will be crushed like that deer--if not by our enemies, then by the next band of marauders that pass by. There is a big difference in fighting for that field, and fighting for your home and family. Have you ever wondered why, in all the fighting we do, we never attack their home or they ours? When we fight out there in some far off field for the cause of greed, people stay behind their shields."

Then, knowing how well the fog carried a voice, he leaned over and whispered into Tieg's ear, "Especially me. I keep my sword and shield in-between myself and the enemy--they all do." He straightened back up and continued, "I have seen wars for land in which we lost no one. They would not dare attack our homes, for the men would come out fighting like a she-bear robbed of her cubs. They would come out from behind their shields lunging and swinging. The dead from both sides would pile up. Everyone knows this consciously or sub-consciously. That is why we are safe, and why we must maintain our unity at all cost--even if it means we participate in a stupid war."

"We?" Tieg questioned, not knowing if he meant it in the spirit of unity, or something like that.

"Yeah, you heard that stupid 'safe perch' idea. It made me realize I need to be far more diligent in your training."

In one smooth motion, Tieg leapt from the rock, swirled around, and landed his shepherd's staff a hand's-breadth from his father's face. He then said jokingly, "What I do not get is how you are supposed to teach me anything when I can pummel you like a child."

His father brushed the staff aside as he stood and said, "You are like that deer--quicker than any man, but if you do not know what you are doing, you will just be crushed."

"I thought the deer story was about unity," Tieg said, going for a jab to his father's ribs.

With a circular motion, he swept Tieg's rod aside. "I was very young, and it was a very traumatic event, teaching me many things. The greatest of which was not to walk along a bank with rocks overhead."

### Chapter 4

The next day, Tieg's family sat around the table eating. The normal conversation did not ensue, and after prolonged silence his mother asked, "When will you two leave for the battle?"

"In the middle of the night. We will get there a little before daylight, chase away their sheep and those assigned to watch them. Then about five hours later, they will respond, and that will be the battle," his father replied, as though it was quite routine.

"Da, have you ever been in a battle in which people are attacking with everything they have and fighting for their lives?"

"When I was young and filling in the very back lines, some crazy man from a northern clan convinced his people to come south raping and pillaging everything they could. Our walls kept them from charging in, but that was about all they were good for. We had to go out and meet them. The first five that lead out our gate were killed--almost half of us that went through it never returned. I am sure you are aware of the rest of the story."

"If you refer to how, after we routed them, we chased them, littering the land with their dead bodies for a mile to the north."

"Yes. That is the good part of the story that everyone tells. You compare that with a battle for land, where two or three die, maybe five at the most, and you will see that greed is not very courageous." Then turning to Tieg he said in a more serious tone, "You should not see any action from up there on the safe perch. You should just be shooting arrows down upon men that are covered. But just in case one of your arrows finds a mark, you need to know that it is not your fault. You are in a situation like that deer, and you have to move in a direction that preserves your life. Also, when they get close to us, your leader will give you the command to cease and go home. When he does, get out of there and don't look back. Don't stop running until you feel the embrace of your Ma."

Tieg only nodded; and they continued eating.

### Chapter 5

The next morning, just as the day broke, the valley that spread before Tieg and the other young lads slowly became visible. "All right lads, it is time to get out of sight," the old man leading them advised. "Move back out of view. Form the line that you will be shooting in and have a seat. You know we will not be shooting straight in front, so when the line steps forward, it must do so at an angle. The man on this end needs to be as close to the edge as possible, then another man an arm's length from him, all the way down."

"I thought it would take five hours for them to get here," a young boy questioned.

"It might, lad. But we cannot take the chance of being seen. If they see us, they may come down the valley instead of across." Their leader was too old for the battlefield, but well suited for this position. His main concern was for the boys. His leadership of them was the only way that the land-hungry could convince the parents to allow their boys to go along. "Remember to keep an eye on your arrows. Watch where they are landing and adjust accordingly."

Tieg was sitting with the rest of the boys, and piddling with a stick. Many of them were uneasily drawing in the dirt. They felt as though much depended upon them even though there wasn't much that they could do.

The old man was lying on his belly, peeping over the edge of the cliff. After several hours, he slid back and turned to face his young charges. At his nod, they all took a deep breath and stood. Behind them now, he continued in a low voice. Only those closest to him could hear exactly what was said; the rest just mimicked the ones who were nearest to him. "Ease forward until you see them; take aim, one..." He counted as he moved down the line until reaching three. "Shoot."

Reloading bows without ever looking at their hands, the boys carefully watched their arrows fall. The enemy was in two lines--a strange sight the old man thought. It almost doubled their chances of being hit. With the slight breeze and the boys not having practiced from that position, most of the arrows landed behind the two lines. However two men were struck down, mortally wounded, and two more were injured, but pressed on. While the boys continued to rain down arrows from above, Tieg's clan had hoped to shoot arrows into the front line. But, as they watched, the enemy's two rows quickly tightened together. The rear man raised his shield over his head and the head of the man in front of him, freeing the man in front to keep his shield forward.

"Hold! You are wasting your arrows," the old man commanded. Some of the boys were fretfully shooting arrows that were straying wildly, while others, although bringing them in on target, were only hitting shields.

The old man watched carefully, hoping the top shields would come down, but no such luck. They were charging now, trying to close the distance. Once they were close enough that Tieg's clan drew swords, the old man gave the command, "Home with you lads! Get going and do not stop for anyone, no matter what you hear!"

### Chapter 6

As the boys approached the village, the gates swung open. Tieg anxiously looked for his mother. Seeing her, he dropped his bow and ran to her embrace, as the other young boys did the same. "That's one of my boys," she said squeezing him tightly and breathing in the smell of his hair. "If we can just get your father back in one piece, we will be in great shape."

Tieg and his mother stood close to the gate, listening, hoping, and praying. Looking over, Tieg could see Riordan's daughter, Maggie with her mother. Only this time, as he watched her, it was not infatuation on his face, but empathy; he understood perfectly, the concern she had for her father. When she saw Tieg's compassionate look, her anxious expression melted into one that mirrored his.

Only an hour later the watchman at the gate heard something.

"Who goes there?" the watchman cried out. It was dark now and Tieg's mother still held him close. They could not hear what was being said over the commotion.

"What went with the battle?"

"Who is it?" Everyone clamored to learn of the battle's outcome.

The gates flew open and an exhausted man hastily came through. "It is a rout! We were chased from the battlefield!" he said breathlessly.

Slowly, more men began to arrive. They said nothing as they came through the gate. Their heads were down; most only looked up long enough to find their family members. Many of those waiting cried out the names of their men as they appeared while running to them. After the initial grateful embrace, they, too, hung their heads, and trudged to their homes, feeling both defeated and just a little guilty knowing that many waiting at the gate would not be so lucky.

As Riordan came through, Tieg looked to see Maggie's face light up as though all of her burdens were lifted away. "Da!" she squalled as she ran to him. Her mother ran just behind her, lifting her skirts to keep up. Riordan did not look up. He just hugged them fiercely for a moment, and then began to survey the crowd.

Tieg was watching the gate for his father, when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Riordan searching. With a feeling of unease, he turned quickly. Tieg figured there would only be one reason for him to be looking around in that manner--bad news.

His eyes met Riordan's. And to Tieg's relief, Riordan kept searching. Although relieved, he still felt incredibly sad after seeing the man's face; he knew it meant bad news for someone.

Riordan's eyes settled upon an eight year old boy seated on a nearby rock-pile. The boy's name was Ball. He sat alone waiting for his Uncle.

Riordan's wife had noticed him searching and the look on his face. She stepped back trying to understand the matter. When he turned back, her hand was over her mouth, and a tear running down her cheek. Without even a gesture his face somehow asked a question; after a moment she nodded.

He looked down to Maggie who had just noticed the exchange. She stood still, her face perplexed. He motioned her to her mother; her confusion only grew when she saw her mother's face.

Riordan made his way over to Ball, and knelt down in front of him. "Lad, I fought next to your uncle, and he did not make it. I promised him I would care for you as though you were my own. I want you to know you always have a family, and a place to live with us."

Ball just slumped over sobbing. Riordan stood, lifting the boy from the rock, and pulled him to himself. The lad's head rested on Riordan's shoulder as though he could no longer lift it. Making his way back to his family, Riordan stopped at Tieg and his mother. "Your father stayed, covering the retreat like he always does; he should be here before long."

When Riordan got back to his family with Ball, Maggie and her mother consoled the lad for a moment before they all made their way home.

As yet another hour passed, Tieg and his mother grew more anxious. They could see someone coming through the gate now, but their hope did not stir; it was too lanky a figure and it moved too slowly. When he came closer, they could tell it was the old man who had been with the boys on the perch. His searching stopped at Tieg and his mother.

He walked over to them and said, "They captured him. I am sorry. They were in two rows--I have never seen that before. The row in back had a bow at the ready, shooting around the man in front of him. It kept our men practically squatting behind there shields. Finally, when they could take it no more, they broke and ran. It was horrible. The archers were shooting them in their backs as they tried to retreat. When your father saw this, he broke through their lines. He ran down the back of the enemy line cutting their bowstrings. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. He was able to move very fast, because he was just holding out his sword, giving a light hack to each bowstring as he passed. Their bowstrings were cut before they even knew he was there. Eventually, they caught up with him and tackled him from behind. They did not kill him, though," the old man added, with a touch of hope in his voice. "I know it is terrible, and I am so sorry. There is that hope, though. Most of the time when a man is sold into slavery, he returns in about six years."

There was such a knot in Tieg's throat that he could not express his gratitude to the man for the kind way in which he delivered the news. He just nodded and turned to his mother who seemed to have wilted like a parched flower.

### Chapter 7

The year passed. Tieg and his mother were doing okay. Their clan thrived. They had had plenty to eat throughout the winter since they'd had to thin a quarter of the herd. Their large gardens, both inside and outside the gate, also served them well. Tieg had to watch sheep four times a week now. He often took Ball with him to teach him and give the lad something to do. However, Tieg's initial motive for this was getting access to Ball's home. Maggie's mother, although instructed to, did not participate in the cold-shoulder treatment of Tieg. When Riordan was not around, Tieg often got to talk to Maggie.

One day, when Tieg stopped by to get Ball on his way to watch sheep, he found Riordan and Ball pulling grass and weeds from around their house. "Good morning, Tieg. I have a load of grass and weeds you can take to the sheep."

"They will be most grateful. You should come with us and see their gratitude for yourself."

Riordan just looked at Tieg, then went back to pulling weeds. "How is your swordsmanship coming along?" he asked.

"Good. I practice almost every day with Brogan. Some days the roof needs mending, or the oven needs some mud work, but most days we fight."

"Yeah, I am sure you fight with Ball some too, while the two of you keep sheep. While that is good for Brogan and Ball, if you are really going to improve, you need to be stretched. You need someone who can defeat you, hands down."

"All the older men seem too busy. Are you offering?"

"Oh no, I would not do you any good. I can tell you who would be able to help you, though--McVeman. He has a trick in which he can pop the sword from your hand. Several people have tried to learn it, including myself, but it just will not work for most people. You have to be really quick, which is why I think it would be perfect for you. McVeman has his own style of fighting, that he developed around his speed."

"Aye. He is such a hard-ass; I do not even speak to him."

Riordan stood and brushed grass from his knees before looking at Tieg and saying, "Let me explain something to you, Tieg. When your Da was around, I would go up to him and say, 'I want to buy that sheep,' and he would inform me that that sheep was not for sale, or that he wanted this much for it. That is simple, right?"

Tieg just nodded, having no idea what Riordan was talking about.

"Not everyone can function so well with others in the village community. I would never just go up to McVeman like that, asking to buy a sheep. However, this is the point," Riordan emphasized, seeing Tieg's puzzled look, "that does not mean that McVeman's sheep is not for sale, he just has to be approached differently."

"How?"

"You will know the answer to that when you learn that trick from him."

Seeing the dispassionate look on Tieg's face as he probed at the dirt with his shepherd's staff, Riordan knew that he would not have the motivation to follow through with it, so he added, "Next time I see McVeman, if he tells me that you are learning well, I will have you over for a meal."

"Oh." Tieg mumbled, looking down as he made another line in the dirt with his staff.

"Yeah, with me and my family."

"Your family?" Tieg asked looking up. Then pushing passed the embarrassment he came out with it. "Maggie will be there?"

"Well yeah, she dines with us, you know."

With a thoughtful look, Tieg said, "When we slaughtered a sheep or killed a deer, my father and I would always take a portion of it to McVeman and his mother, and they were always complete asses. Brogan and others started making fun of my father and me, saying we were ass-kissers because of all we did for them when they never showed us even a small measure of kindness or gratitude. Eventually, I stopped going with my father and had nothing to do with them."

"Yes, that is because you are a fool like those mockers you speak of," Riordan said dispassionately.

"Tell me what you really think next time, Riordan," Tieg replied sarcastically.

Riordan smiled. He scrubbed some of the dirt from his hands, then turned to face Tieg before continuing, "You see, they decide how a person should be treated based upon how that person makes them feel. Sometimes this works well for them, keeping them from becoming slaves to their enemies or causing them to come to the aid of a fallen friend. There is a time and a purpose for every gift our Maker has given us, but like unlearned children, they misapply these gifts. Judging a fatherless boy whose mother was insane, as a misfit, and they would stone him for it, while at the same time they embrace their religious leader as he fleeces them. They have it so messed up that it is completely reversed. That last part was roughly a quote from your father. I know this is not all news to you, so why the bemused look?"

"I just miss him," Tieg said snapping out of his daze. "What you said reminded me greatly of him."

"I will take that as a commendation. I think we will see him again lad. I really do."

"As do I," Tieg said wiping the moisture from his eyes. He helped Ball gather the weeds and grass into bundles, and then turned to go tend the sheep. Before walking away, he said, "The meal sounds great. I will be looking forward to it."

Riordan just nodded. "Aye, lad."

As the Boys walked out of sight, Riordan stood watching with his hands on his hips.

"You were supposed to dry some of that grass for me to use to start fires."

Riordan turned to see his wife looking at him, hands on hips, as well. Confusion flashed across his face at first, then was quickly swept away. He pointed, "I still have the back to do. That will be plenty for you to start fires with."

"I could not believe my ears when I heard you inviting him for a meal. Does this mean that you are going to let her start speaking to him?"

"No, not at all. It's just that one meal. They will be able to talk amongst us all, then he is out. His father is not around anymore to teach him how to negotiate and deal with different personalities. This lesson is going to be very difficult, and require a lot of motivation for him to see it through. You will still have to keep them from talking. If they get comfortable with each other, she will be pregnant before you know it."

He watched his wife as she attempted to keep a straight face. She was never very good at it, he noted. Her eyes squinted, and her right cheek quivered, which rapidly seceded to a smile, that just as quickly gave way to laughter.

"It is not a joke."

"I know you are serious, and there is the smallest amount of truth to it. I think that is why it is so very funny," she said, as she laughed her way back into the house.

Riordan's face however, showed no signs of humor. He just muttered something better left unheard, and went back to his work.

### Chapter 8

As the next year passed, Tieg realized he would not be having that meal with Riordan any time soon. He did not understand what Riordan had meant by, "He just has to be approached differently." He also did not understand why McVeman yelled and cursed at him for asking a simple favor. Tieg eventually gave up on learning any tricks from him, but continued where his father had left off in sharing and extending friendship.

It took the whole year before the monologue turned into dialogue. But once it did, a friendship was born--a closer friendship than McVeman had ever known. McVeman started coming to see Tieg and Ball while they were keeping sheep and he and Tieg would fight for hours with wooden swords.

Tieg had learned all of the traditional fighting tactics from his father, but McVeman had never been taught any of this. He had developed his own style around his speed. At first it merely kept him alive on the battlefield. Then it had slowly progressed into a skill that put him at an advantage. So much so, that by the time Tieg's father and a few others had befriended him and tried to teach him, they could not, for they were unable to outmatch him.

Those hours of practice not only earned Tieg that meal at Riordan's table, they were also making him quite the swordsman. For the next three years, a normal day was comprised of practicing an hour with Ball before McVeman arrived, then two hours with McVeman. Once he returned to the village, he usually spent two more hours with Brogan. It was enough to exhaust the heartiest of men, but it was what Tieg lived for.

### Chapter 9

One evening, just as Tieg was finishing Supper with his mother, he heard someone yelling. He strolled outside in no particular hurry, and noticed a house on fire. He looked to his right and his chest tightened intensely. Part of the wall was on fire, and he could think of only one logical explanation for it. "Oh no," he muttered, and grabbing his weapons, he ran for the gate.

He arrived at the same instance as many others. The watchman was frantically trying to explain how many and where they were. "They have set fire to loads of straw in several different places along the wall, and pulled back to a position in front of the gate, assuming we will charge out, no doubt."

"What are we waiting for?" Tieg shouted.

A man stepped out of the crowd, "Let us attempt to put out these fires and hold our ground in here!"

Then one of the elders spoke, "You will never get all of that straw to stop burning! If we keep hesitating, they will throw more torches, setting more homes ablaze! Tieg is right! We must face them while these walls still offer our families some protection."

Everyone just stood there silently, looking at each other. After a minute, Tieg turned and ran for the gate. Throwing down his sword and shield, he began struggling to remove the timber that had been placed in front of the gate in the case of a battering ram. Soon Brogan was by his side. Together they could get an end of the timber and flip it. Next, McVeman came and began to help. As they worked, a hand clasped Brogan's shoulder, he turned to see.

"Da?"

"To the back line with you lad."

"No, I stay and fight beside Tieg."

"You know the rules. If a father is at the front line, then his son is at the back, or if a son is at the front, the father, the back; I say that you are in the back!"

Brogan picked up his sword and shield and headed for the back. He knew what his father said was right, and the clan would side with it. Brogan's father then began helping remove the timber.

"Listen to me lads," Brogan's father said. "When that gate is open, there will be arrows coming in like a sideways rain. We will have to forge ahead into it. That is why we have the bigger shields here." He pointed to some long shields hanging next to the gate. "You have to understand: they will shoot your legs, feet, arms, anything exposed. I was your age Tieg, when this happened last. I fought in the back line with your father. We both lost our fathers that day. I wish your father was here today to send you to the back line. You probably will not listen to me if I tell you to go, will you?"

"I will stand in my father's position and defend my mother and the rest of my village," Tieg said as he secured the long shield in his hand. He had always seen them there, but had never used one. "Besides that, I do not see anyone else volunteering."

"They are just petrified. Hell, no one wants this. When they get involved they will limber up," Brogan's father stated. Then turning toward the others, he yelled, "Are you just going to stand there and wet yourselves, or are you going to get into position?"

Before they could finish muddling into position, Tieg swung open the gate. Yelling at the top of their lungs, he and McVeman charged. The shields were wide and rounded at the bottom, narrow and v-shaped at the top so that the men could run without squatting or taking small steps. The shields were contrived of small branches, with two layers of wicker woven over the frame. They would not last long in a sword fight, and someone could probably push a spear right through them. You could not see or reach around them to fight, but they were stopping multitudes of arrows as Tieg and McVeman charged forward.

The rest of their clan was still not charging. They were still trying to get the men in the front row with the wicker shields spaced properly. Brogan's father yelled at them in disgust, "Come now!" Then turning, he followed after Tieg and McVeman, who were about to make contact.

They slammed into the enemy's front line, pushing the front man backward into the second row. Turning slightly and swinging his sword, Tieg shattered the bow of the man next to him. The archer's look of shock quickly turned to fear as he cowered, stumbled and fell back. Tieg leapt forward, landing in the center of his chest, pushing him all the way to the ground. A downward swing destroyed another bow.

The next man quickly began retreating into the second row with a terrified grimace. He trembled as he watched Tieg raise his sword. A look of relief quickly washed over his face, as Tieg moved past him and shattered another bow. With his shield protecting him from behind, Tieg tried to keep a body, or someone with a disabled bow in front of him to cover him from any arrows.

As Tieg came closer to the next man, it was clear he was not going anywhere. The man's eyes bulged in excitement and concentration. The man gritted his teeth and began to draw his sword. His head rolled from his right shoulder before his sword left its sheath.

Tieg and McVeman had started in the middle of the line and were working in opposite directions. They were almost to the ends, and the clan was charging now with their wicker shields in place. The enemy archers were almost destroyed, and those left were doing no good shooting into the wicker shields. Upon seeing this, their leader gave the command, "Attack!" The gang of thieves shouted, and, waving their swords, they charged toward Tieg's clan. As they ran past, Tieg threw down the large wicker shield, and snatched his small round wooden shield from his side. It had an iron bar that ran across the front, which he now used to cause head trauma for any man who was in his path.

There were about eighty men in Tieg's clan, while there were only about sixty in this horde--closer to fifty now, thanks to Tieg and McVeman. Their leader sat atop a gray horse on their right flank. There were two men seated on either side of him, one sat a brown horse and the other a black one. Three more men stood guard, in front of him.

Tieg fought and killed a few more men, but most of the enemy lines just ran past him.

Tieg's clan did just as he had; they tossed the wicker shields and pulled their regular fighting shields from their sides. They clashed into battle and the fury began.

As Tieg emerged from their back ranks, he looked to his right. Upon seeing the enemy's leader, he did not hesitate. He ran toward him, saying nothing, attempting to avoid drawing their attention. But he had their attention, nonetheless. The group had been watching Tieg since he left the gate. The three guards did not have to be told--they charged.

When the first guard was just a few feet away, Tieg threw his sword, burying it in the guard's chest. He rotated around the dying man, keeping him between himself and one of the other guards. He used his shield and his free hand to disarm the guard as he fell forward. With a swirl and flick of the wrist, he threw that sword at the next guard coming at him. A shield covered this man's body, but not his face. The guard began to duck, but the sword was coming too quickly and he was too close. It slammed into his forehead, lodging above his eye, lifting him from the ground as his momentum and that of the sword's equalized.

Freeing his sword from the first guard's chest, Tieg continued to circle around him, forcing the other guard to do the same. They came together in battle. Their swords clashed and their shields met. The guard, being a very large fellow, threw Tieg back. He had to run backward to keep his feet beneath him. Tieg was still a lad of seventeen years, and this fact looked even more pronounced against the large man. Their swords and shields clashed again, and, again, Tieg went flying back. Watching this, a look of relief came over the man who sat atop the gray horse, for he knew that Tieg was coming for him.

They clashed yet again, and this time the large guard twisted as he slammed into Tieg, in hopes that the sideways force would cause the boy's feet to become tangled and he would fall. Tieg was much too fast for that. During this maneuver, Tieg noticed something that made him want the guard to repeat the move, so he stumbled sideways as though he were about to fall.

The guard raised his sword to strike again, and Tieg quickly switched hands with his sword and shield, and hoped the guard would not notice and change his tactic. As focused as the guard was on his idea, he did not seem to notice. He lunged at Tieg again, twisting sideways. He just knew he would knock the boy over this time. As he twisted for impact with the same sideways motion, Tieg noticed the same thing again. The guard's shield arm was briefly exposed. With the sword now gripped in his left hand, Tieg severed the man's arm with a quick downward swing.

The shield fell, and as the guard's attention was focused on his arm upon the ground, Tieg ran him through. Then, circling around from behind the heap of the large guard, Tieg stared up at the three horsemen, contemplating just how they should be handled.

The man on the gray horse looked to the man on his left, then to his right. When they didn't move, he prompted, "Well, what are you waiting for?!" The man on the black horse charged Tieg. Seeing this, and then noticing that what was left of his clan was quickly retreating north, the man on the brown horse spun his mount around and also headed north as quickly as he could.

Though they had routed their enemy, not a cry went up from within Tieg's entire clan, for they watched with great apprehension as the horseman bore down upon Tieg. He had nowhere to go. There was no way he could get to any kind of cover quickly enough. The horse's nostrils flared, his feet pounded the ground with fury. Tieg's heart was beating so hard, that he could feel it in his throat. As he watched the horse draw nearer, all he could think of was the saying of old:

"His majestic snorting is terrifying. He paws in the valley and exults in his strength; he goes out to meet the weapons. He laughs at fear and is not dismayed; he does not turn back from the sword... With fierceness and rage he swallows the ground; he cannot stand still at the sound of the trumpet. When the trumpet sounds, he says 'Aha!' He smells the battle from afar..."

This memory seemed to intensify his fear; he felt it boil up from someplace deep inside. With palms that were beginning to sweat, he clasped his sword tightly. His eyes darted around searching for somewhere to run. He thought about turning and just running, but he knew he would be cut down, or trampled like grass.

Finally, with only one idea in mind, he ran forward as quickly as he could. He still held his shield in his right hand and his sword in his left from his last fight. After three steps, he leapt with all his strength. He brought his body parallel to the ground, just below the height of the rider's shoulder, so that the rider's sword smashed into his shield. Unable to stop the horse's momentum, he rolled his shield downward, guiding the enemy's sword beneath him. While blocking the rider's sword with his right hand, he brought his own sword around in a swirling motion with his left, and leveled it, using the horse's momentum to decapitate the horseman. With the now headless horseman's sword slipping past, Tieg rolled away and dropped to his feet. He wasted no time immediately charging the enemy's leader. His clan still made no sound, though their mouths hung agape.

The miscreant looked back and forth nervously. He wanted his men to stay and fight, but they were obviously defeated. Only fifteen of them were able to flee the battlefield. With the lad drawing closer, he spun his horse around and fled.

Tieg's clan roared with victorious shouting. The enemy's leader went from out of Tieg's reach, to out of his sight just a moment later. Tieg turned to see if anyone was after him for going after their leader. He was surprised to see the fifteen. They were retreating, but for a moment he thought that they were charging him. He readied himself for a fight anyway, sure that they would want revenge for what he had done. But to his surprise, they veered widely, hoping to avoid any contact with him. Dreams of plunder and rape now far from their minds, surviving was their only concern.

After they passed him, he turned to watch them run away. The look upon his face seemed to slowly begin a transition from the fearful one that had stared up at the massive beast charging him, back to one of rage that he had when he charged into the enemy. With a great anger, he ran after them, but his enraged pace was evenly matched by their fearful flight to survive. Tieg's clan watched as they went out of sight, expecting at any moment that Tieg would stop his pursuit and return.

### Chapter 10

The next morning, Riordan, Brogan and the old man who had been in charge of the boys at the "safe perch" years earlier, headed out to look for Tieg. They had walked for two hours, before they saw a body lying on the ground a ways ahead of them. Their minds filled with worry that it was Tieg, and they began to hurry, but hurrying for one wasn't the same as for another. Brogan flew to the side of the corpse, and rolled it over. Riordan trotted and the old man, well it really seemed like he was moving along at a fast pace--to himself anyway.

"It isn't Tieg!" Brogan shouted out. He then repeated it several times as the other two approached.

Brogan was still kneeling next to the body, attempting to catch his breath, when Riordan hunched over to study the scene carefully. When the old man arrived leaning heavily on his cane, he, too, studied the scene for a moment. Then he pointed and said, "He was running that way when Tieg started catching up to him. Then from about there, at that angle, Tieg threw his sword, buried it into this man's back, knocking the wind out of him and filling his pulmo (lungs) with blood. He then fell face-first, and slid across the ground, until that rock killed his momentum, just like the lack of air killed his body."

Riordan looked at the old man with a strange expression. "You know all of that just by looking at this?"

"Well," the old man said shrugging his shoulders, "I know he was stabbed in the back and slid into that rock, and I know he was slow, too."

"And how do you know that?" Brogan asked, as he stood and dusted himself off.

"There are no more dead bodies around," The old man replied in a matter-of-fact way as he continued north. The other two looked at each other. Brogan shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Riordan just chuckled and said, "I cannot argue with that old man."

They went through valleys, crossed streams, and navigated patches of forest, finding a body here and there, but none were Tieg. As they emerged from a patch of forest that overlooked a clearing, they could see five bodies strewn around in almost a circle. Their hearts filled with dread, knowing that one of these was likely to be Tieg. They all hurried along just as before, with Brogan sprinting ahead of them. When he came upon the bodies, he frantically began searching for Tieg. Only one of them was face down. After turning him over to get a good look, he began circling around the lot again, looking more closely at each of the bodies. He shook his head, almost as though he were disappointed not to find Tieg among them. Then slowly his worried expression began to subside. Almost as though he were looking in a mirror, he watched as it melted from Riordan's and the old man's faces, as well.

After they had all arrived on the scene and surveyed the carnage, the old man said angrily, "We have been walking for over four hours now! He was probably so exhausted at this point that he was retching, and he takes on five men? He is being reckless! He is going to end up throwing his life away. They are as tired as he, that is the only thing saving him! If he runs up on one of those horsemen, it will not be the same."

They continued on, finding a body here and there, as though Tieg were leaving them a trail. They had walked northward the entire day; it was dusk now, as they emerged from another patch of wood. Riordan signed for them to stop and stay within the cover of the trees. They eased forward to see what was in the clearing. The gray horse immediately caught their eye. It seemed that it was alone; it was grazing freely with its tack still on. They knew no one would loose their horse here so far from home; something was wrong.

### Chapter 11

They stood still, and quietly watched and listened. No one could see, or hear any apparent danger, so they began slowly making their way down to the small stream that cut through the middle of the valley. As they trudged through the waist-high grass and flowers, they began to think that the horse's rider was lost a ways back and it had just come here to graze. Then they noticed a depression in the grass. It could have been a rock where no grass grew, but they cautiously made their way to it all the same.

As they got closer, they could see a foot. Now, not only did they know this was a person, they also knew the body was facing southward. This troubled them, but they still proceeded with caution; swords drawn.

Suddenly, Brogan saw something that made him start moving faster. He lunged forward, and knelt next to the body, pulling it over. The other two men saw an intense look of pain come over his face. "Tieg! It's Tieg." He said the last almost as a question. The painful expression turned into a perplexed one for a moment, then into surprise. "His body is not stiff!"

Riordan hurriedly knelt down next to them, and put his hand to Tieg's chest. "He is warm; and his heart beats!"

### Chapter 12

When Tieg woke the next morning, he could not move. His muscles were sizzling with pain and he was buried under a pile of clothing. He tried to speak. Even though he could not be understood, it got the attention of the others. Brogan brought his face very close in order to hear him, but it was to no avail. Seeing this, the old man spoke up, "Give him some water. He has got to be needing water." After a few containers of water and a few more moments rest, he could speak almost normally, and he began asking questions.

"Why am I tied up?" Everyone chuckled a little at that.

"Lad you are not tied up, we've simply covered you with some clothing from the bodies lying around, in an attempt to keep you warm."

They knew he did not have any large wounds, but he was covered in so much blood and dirt that no one could tell if he had any smaller cuts or scrapes. After drawing more water and washing him, they treated all his lacerations with some ointment, and they were soon on their way home.

Riordan led the way, and the old man followed him, leading the horse, which carried both Tieg and Brogan. Tieg's muscles were still unable to keep him atop the beast, so Brogan sat behind him, holding him on.

"How did you come about this horse?" the old man asked Tieg.

The wind blew across Tieg's face, and he took a deep calming breath. He could remember clearly now; it actually seemed clearer now than when it was happening.

"As you know, I chased after them, killing them all along the way. I had not seen anyone for a while, but I kept running; I knew if I stopped I probably would not be able to get going again. When I started running through the woods north of where you found me, I saw a fire. I knew it had to be one of the horsemen to have had time to get that far and to build a fire. I figured it was the one on the gray horse. It was a large fire to get the attention of any of his men who had survived, so they could regroup there."

He grimaced in pain as he tried to move one of his legs. He then continued, "I did not know what to do at first. All of the other men I had fought were as tired as I, but he would be fresh. As I continued, I realized I would at least have the element of surprise. When I saw that he was staring into the fire, I knew that I would also have the advantage of being able to see far better than he.

"I just ran up behind him, stopping while I was still in the shadows. He merely turned to look at me and asked, 'How many made it out of there alive?'

I had taken a sword from one of his men in order to have something to throw, and that was my answer to his question--throwing that sword right into his chest. He fell back into the fire, and that is how I left him. I did not want to be there, taken by surprise as he was, so I got the horse and made for home. I was so tired I could not mount the beast, so I just leaned on him. My legs got stiffer and stiffer until things went black. That is my story, now what about yours? How many did we lose in the battle?"

At those words, everyone got quiet and studied the ground. Finally the old man began, "Well lad, McVeman lost a leg in the battle just above the knee. We got the bleeding to stop surprisingly fast, and he was doing okay. Someone even made him a large heavy cane to help him keep balance." Then shaking his head sadly, he continued, "I warn you lad the story gets worse from there, much worse. Those fires you saw all over the village were from flaming arrows. The women had all of them put out by the time we were back from the battle. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to anyone, one of those arrows must have hit your roof. It had to have been almost extinguished except for enough fire to make a few embers." He sighed, then said, "Far into the night last night, McVeman and a few others must have heard your mother's screams. They tried to go in to get her, but beams had fallen, blocking the door. McVeman went around to the back, and, with his cane, began tearing a hole through the wall. People were shouting at him that it was too late, but he was like a man possessed. He knocked out a hole and went in. It was, indeed, too late, lad. The heat was so intense, and he...he could barely get around. I... I just do not know how to tell you lad. I am sorry. I am so sorry; they are both gone."

Tieg wilted like a blade of grass and began sobbing; they all wiped tears from their eyes as they continued home.

### Chapter 13

As they passed through the gate, people stared at Tieg. Some nodded with a look that seemed to offer their condolences, but there was more to their curious glances than sympathy. Things had changed, and would never be the same again. Before the battle had begun, he was a lad--a lad who tended the sheep. Now he was being looked upon as a leader.

Seeing her father, Maggie ran to embrace him. Then peering around him, she saw Tieg. Her look was different than the others. Where their look was to a hero, or one to protect them and meet their need for safety, she saw his eyes, swollen and red from crying, and felt compassion for him.

She approached him, asking him in a very gentle voice if he were okay. He just nodded, "I am okay Maggie"

"Where will you stay now?"

"He always has a home with my family," Brogan said, squeezing Tieg around the shoulders a bit.

Tieg groaned, even his chest muscles were so sore they burned with pain. Riordan came up behind Maggie, and gently removed her hand from Tieg's leg, where she had placed it.

"He is fine, Maggie. I tell you what he needs is some stew. Won't you see if your mother will help you make him some?"

"Yes Da," she said never taking her eyes off of Tieg; her face questioning whether he was really okay. She backed away slowly, then finally turned, breaking eye contact.

As she walked away, the old man spoke up, "Maggie, no chunks of meat or veg in the stew, only the juice."

She looked at Riordan with disapproval. "Thought you said, he was fine."

"He, he is," Riordan stuttered. "Be even better, you get him some stew."

This cheered everyone a little; to get a smile, some even a chuckle, at Riordan's expense.

It only took a week for Tieg to recover, at least physically; but months later he was still not truly himself.

### Chapter 14

As winter approached, the clan prepared to celebrate with a feast. When the feast had begun, Maggie's mother pulled her aside. "Many of the people here are concerned about Tieg," she told her daughter, as she looked around watching for Riordan. "Come over here," she motioned, "before your father sees us." They stepped around the corner.

"What do you mean? Where is Tieg?" Maggie had assumed that he was at the feast.

"He is not here. He volunteered to watch the sheep, to get away, no doubt. He is not himself. Here, I wrapped some meat and tubers in this cloth. There is enough for the both of you. Why don't you take it to him out in the field?"

"Father would throw a fit, and besides that, why me? I mean, what could I say to him? He has been through so much."

"My girl," she said caringly, putting a hand to Maggie's face, "the naïve think that there are wise words that can be said to relieve such pain as the boy is going through. The truth is, there is nothing you or anyone else can say. But, you can be with him, so he does not have to go it alone. You two used to be such good friends when you were small; before you grew up and started looking at each other the way you do, and before your father got in between you."

Maggie said nothing, just lowered her gaze shamefully. Her mother's fingers slid beneath her chin, and lifted her face. "You look me in the eyes Maggie, there is nothing wrong with the way you two look at each other; everything is just as it should be. Now go, and don't worry about your father. Everyone is in on this," she said, as she pulled Maggie from behind the wall so she could see what she meant.

"Let me get you another drink, Riordan," one of the ladies insisted happily, sweeping down to pick up his vessel.

"No, no, you do not have to do that."

"Nonsense," she said.

"Nonsense," the man who sat next to him repeated, pulling him back down. "Tell us about that time you got lost looking for that missing sheep and ended up at the ocean."

"Yeah, tell us that story," another shouted.

Maggie's mother leaned over to whisper in her ear, "That isn't all either-- they're giving him the strongest stuff they've got--the beer old man Morrie makes. Now get going child. No worries, he won't be remembering any of this," she giggled.

### Chapter 15

Maggie approached the sheep, and nervously called out for Tieg. She knew he would have a bow and arrow, and not being sure how careful the shepherds usually were to identify friend or foe, she was quite uneasy.

"Maggie?" "Maggie!" The voice got closer. "What are you doing here? Where is your father?" Tieg asked, looking about rather fearfully.

Maggie laughed. "He will not be coming."

"Is he dead?" Tieg asked jokingly, a very surprised look on his face.

"He is probably drunk by now. It is actually a very funny story. I will have to tell you while we eat our meal."

"Meal?"

"Yes, from the feast. I got us some meat and tubers."

"Great, I will eat the meat, you can have the tubers," Tieg said with a smile. "Come up here." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along up the hill. "You can see the sunset from up here, and only barely smell the sheep shit. It is really amazing."

They sat, and she told him of what the clan was doing to her father. They laughed. They spoke of childhood memories, chuckling at some, while others had them crying on each other's shoulders.

Maggie had always wondered why Tieg's father participated in the fighting that he was so against, and why he would give up his life for those who disagreed with him and, in fact, caused the mess they were in. Tieg could answer some of her questions, but others he could only speculate about.

It was in this way that they passed the whole night away. It was dawn when Brogan showed up. "I will keep the sheep if you would like to walk Maggie home. Ball is just outside of the village picking a few things from the gardens; I spoke with him this morning. He said that if Maggie joins him there, Riordan would never know anything was amiss."

### Chapter 16

Normally, a man as young as Tieg who had no children, was still required to take a turn with the sheep, but the elders unanimously agreed to release him of this responsibility, as a result of his actions in the war. This made it much harder for Riordan to keep him from speaking to Maggie.

Riordan was not always able to attend the women in gathering, and Tieg saw this as the perfect opportunity to do so. "Make sure they are safe," he said to himself, feeling rather pleased at having outmaneuvered Riordan. Gathering seeds, berries, tubers and edible flowers was not extremely dangerous, so he could help. While working right alongside Maggie, they were able to talk for a couple of hours--it was not private conversation, but it was the best Tieg could do for now.

On one of these occasions, Tieg was standing on the opposite side of a bush from Maggie as they gathered wild berries. Suddenly she straightened and stared in disbelief. Glancing up, Tieg saw her standing like a statue, and by the astonished look on her face he knew he would be unable to guess what she was seeing. His muscles tensed and he slowly turned.

When his eyes found the source of her stare, he leapt to his feet, scattering his cloth full of berries all over the ground. "Da," he yelled, as he ran to embrace his father for the first time in six years.

"My son," his father said, as tears rolled down his face. "I hear you are quite the hero."

"It is not all good news, Da," he said, as his face grew somber.

"I know all about your mother," his father said, cutting him off. "I passed by where the sheep were being kept, and the lads there told me everything. I stayed there for a while doing my mourning, and now that I am finished with that, I come here to celebrate my son, the hero."

Maggie and the other women had moved on giving them some privacy.

"I see you choose women's work now that you are free from the sheep?"

"I have my reasons," Tieg said, shamelessly.

"You have not married that girl, yet?"

"Her father will not hear of it."

Tieg's father laughed, and pulled him under his arm. "When I was about your age, I had a friend who was in love with a girl, but the girl's father wanted a dowry of twelve sheep. Now, most of the time, we did not even practice a dowry, but from time to time a couple of sheep were given. My friend could not afford twelve, however. Well, this lass ended up pregnant. When her pregnancy became obvious to everyone, my friend stood up at the next meeting, declaring that he was the father and that he would like to take her as his wife. He also offered to give her father two sheep as a gift.

Her father was furious with the lad, telling him, "It will cost you twenty sheep!" At this point, I saw just what he had planned and how genius it was. My friend just sat down and said nothing. When the leaders saw this, they were angry. They told the father that he must give the girl to the lad, even if he got nothing in return. 'It is not right,' they said. 'What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.'" His smile grew wide, as he saw that his son was thinking on what he'd said. They continued on, walking through the forest, talking, not wanting to go home to the painful memories of their loss.

He told his son of all he had seen and learned. He had been all over Rome, fighting as a gladiator, and learning many things from many different cultures.

Over the next two years, they traveled on long journeys--hunting and trapping in the fall and winter, and working as blacksmiths during the spring and summer. During this time, Tieg's father taught him all he had learned, and showed him how to fight as the gladiator.

### Back to present:

It was of these times his mind dreamed, as he began to stir. He grunted when the shackles chafed his raw wrists. Familiar voices came from the dimness around him. "Are you awake?"

"Tieg! Tieg, are you alright?"

"Can you remember anything?"

Looking around, Tieg could see that there were six other Irish captives, all young men from his clan. They were all imprisoned in the front chamber of the ship, their shackles moored to the floor. There were no windows. _Oh god, no windows_ , he thought, his chest tightening with anxiety.

"How many of them?" he asked, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

"Fourteen."

Upon hearing that voice, Tieg raised his head, his eyes searching out a friend. There, propped against a wooden crate, he saw Brogan. His nose, swollen into a big black knot, was obviously broken, and his fists were each a bloody pulp. Tieg grinned as his head fell back in painful exhaustion, "Gave them a bit of trouble, did ya?" he asked with some effort.

"Well I certainly wasn't brought aboard sleeping like a babe, like some!"

Tieg's smile faded as he asked, "How did this happen?"

"It was our neighbors. They sacked the village and," with a jerk of his head toward the upper deck, he sneered, "sold us to these foreigners."

"How did they get in?" Tieg asked.

"Ah, 'twas easy," Brogan said bitterly. "They were let in."

Tieg raised his head at that news. Staring sharply at Brogan, he asked, "Who?"

"Who do you think?"

Then, silence. No one needed to say a word; no one could say a word. They knew who it was. A certain priest had made his rounds throughout the clans; saving souls where he could, and taking advantage, always. He was the only outsider allowed through the gates. Tieg's family and some of the other families, even some of the men who were with him now, had gone to the clan leaders and tried to get him thrown out, but their warnings went unheeded. Their argument was that this priest could be no positive force to the community when his eyes lusted continuously. Tieg doubted the man was a priest at all; he often caught him looking at their women in no brotherly manner. "His greed and money-grabbing are a sign of a common scoundrel!" Tieg's father once said.

_It's a funny thing_ , Tieg thought, _the way innocence is punished right along with stupidity, and the greedy walk away with profit_.

The long silence was broken by a voice that had not yet spoken, "Tieg, while I was being dragged out, I saw your father... he is dead, lad. He was holding them back so some of us could flee through our hidden escape routes."

Tieg, feeling emotion rising up in his throat, said gravely, "May God have mercy, for I will not."

No one spoke. And then came, "Amen," from Brogan.

There was another long pause in respect for Tieg's loss. Then he asked, "You said that there are fourteen? Can any of them understand us?"

"None of them understands our Celtic tongue."

### Chapter 17

Tieg continued with his questions, "How many of these foreigners are armed with swords?" The silence indicated that no one knew. "No matter how insignificant you may think something is, try to learn it. This course of action could prove helpful and will, at least, keep you sane."

"We cannot see what they are doing and no one has been down here since we were stuffed in this chamber," a whiny voice exclaimed.

Tieg winced. He recognized the voice as that of Elias, the clan's coward. _Perfect_ , he thought. _That is exactly what we need. The enemy could not have ensured that we remain their captive any better way. There is no hope that he will be anything but a burden to any escape plan we may be able to come up with._ Tieg's emotions were so taxed that if he were free, he feared he would throw Elias overboard himself--a decision that, given the shackles, was not possible.

"Information could mean the difference between life and death for us," Tieg said in hushed tones to the other men.

"How is information going to save us?" scoffed Elias.

Tieg ignored him and went on, "Don't speak too loudly. If they hear hopeful tones, they will suspect something and tighten security."

"Good, let's keep them on their toes," Elias added loudly.

Elias's obvious moment of stupidity caused them all to pause and stare at him.

Tieg then asked if anyone was within kicking distance of him. A thump and Elias's customary screech told him there was. Everyone laughed. This meant to Tieg that spirits had lifted, if only a little. Maybe there was some belief in the idea that they could get out of this. He knew that hope was crucial in their situation. Hope is what they would need in order to face a fight in which some would probably die, their freedom not guaranteed and the odds not even in their favor.

### Chapter 18

Tieg squinted as he looked more closely at Brogan. "You know we have got to straighten that nose out?"

Brogan's eyes squeezed tightly closed as he imagined the pain. "You get me out of this filth first. Right now being unable to smell is convenient."

"They will have to feed us soon," Tieg said, assessing the entryway.

"Why ever would you think that?" Brogan asked.

Tieg shrugged. "Could you sell a sheep that is half starved to death and looking like it will not live to see another day? That is all we are now--sheep."

It was over four hours later when they heard a rattle. The hatch door squeaked open and then plunked to the side. The men watched as one bare darkened foot descended, testing for a foothold. Before the person had placed his foot upon the step, Tieg began to size him up. He remembered something his father used to say: "Situations and people are a lot like books. Always take time to read them, pause, and then read again. Make sure you are not just judging it by the cover."

Upon finding the step, a young black man began to descend into the small room. Dust rained from the narrow boards of the steps as he made his way down. He could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen years old.

The lad was carrying an armful of darkened bread. After he'd passed out about half of the bread, he turned to bring Tieg his portion, and Tieg spoke to him, "Hello, sir."

The lad froze, and simply stared at Tieg with a blank expression. But he was quickly brought around by Elias's insolent grab for the entire loaf. He swatted his hand aside in defense.

Still puzzled, he glanced back at Tieg. He had seen the bitter, angry, and belligerent prisoners, the terrified prisoners and the eventually depressed, staring-into-space prisoners, who were physically there, but were mentally trying not to be. But this was completely out of the ordinary... An almost cheerful "hello" followed by a term of respect...

Seeing the puzzled look that he had hoped for, Tieg then proceeded, "Sorry friend, I didn't mean to startle you. I was only wondering how long you have been a slave." Tieg watched the flash of surprise on the man's face and heard the deep indrawn breath as he said the word _slave_.

Another volley of questions now competed for a chance to be contemplated in the lad's mind. Conclusions he had come to about the words of respect shown did not add up, when the awareness of him being a slave was put into the equation. But then the bigger question pushed all of it out of the way. _How_ _did he know that I am a slave_?

The lad gathered himself, his eyes narrowing. Then, in an attempt to gain control of the situation, he purposefully straightened his shoulders and asked in a poised tone, "Friend, as you say, what makes you think that I am a slave?" It was a brave attempt, but too late. Tieg had already seen his thoughts dance across his face before flashing away with the false bravado as he bluffed. His tone implied that the question was not very important at all, but Tieg guessed it was eating him up inside. He allowed a long pause to ensue.

The lad was poorly kept--too skinny for most hired hands. The few clothes he had on were rags, but it was something else that Tieg thought might bring them into one accord. "It is the scars upon your back that make me think you are a slave," Tieg stated in a quiet voice.

His chin raised a notch. Thinking Tieg knew little of the subject, he said with a smile, "Hired hands are whipped too, you know."

"Aye," Tieg calmly acknowledged with a nod. "That is surely true, friend." He then paused again, hoping to let a little anxiety build in the lad. "But they do it rarely, and not nearly as severely as an angry, worthless slave owner would. I'd estimate that, if you were a hired hand and had been beaten that often, then you would have to be quite a scoundrel."

He kept his eyes on the boy. "But I watched you when you passed that gentleman there; the way that you looked at his bloody hands. You are concerned for another man's problem, and a scoundrel would never do that. Besides," he said with a smile, "if you were that much trouble, they would have run you off a long time ago and gotten another hired hand at any port any time along the way. No way," Tieg continued, shaking his head, "I would bet my life on it. You are a slave, and your master is a worthless fellow."

The surprise now gone, the lad pondered hard what type of person this could be. No one had ever spoken to him in this manner. Searching his mind, he found no one with whom he could reference this man.

"So, if I may still call you _friend_ , how long have you been a slave?"

The lad paused for a moment considering the safety of speaking to him, and then, looking almost relieved to tell someone something, he said with just the slightest lift of his chin, "All of my life; but only ten years to this worthless fellow."

The other men seemed surprised. Maybe they weren't aware that he was a slave; maybe they just now realized he had no loyalty to this worthless fellow and could possibly be of help to them--maybe their only hope.

### Chapter 19

While hungrily gnawing on a piece of bread, Tieg asked the young slave, "What is your name?"

"Jephthah."

"Really?" Tieg asked with surprise. "Was your mother religious, or was that name handed down to you?"

"She was religious," he answered brows raised. He then asked, "Are you one of those seers?"

Curious now, Tieg asked, "Tell me more about your mother, and how you came to be with this worthless fellow, if it was not always this way."

The lad took a moment to ponder his question. No one had ever asked him that before. How do you sum up a life story and convey it in a matter of moments? His mind searched in haste, unwilling to miss his first opportunity to tell an interested soul.

Finally, he said, "I estimate that I am a third generation slave. My mother loved to read. She was a very well educated woman. She taught me how to read early on. She was also a very religious woman, and thankful for the good family that owned us. She even said quite often, that if we were free and they paid us top wages, we could not afford to live where we lived and eat as well as we did. Yes," he said with a half-smile, "she thought well of our masters. She was one of those people who thought slavery could sometimes be a good thing. She thought that right up until our masters got in some financial troubles and sold us both at the slave market.

"They sold us to different people..." his eyes welled up with tears as he added, "...without a chance to say goodbye. I never saw her again." He quickly regained his composure and continued, "I was nine years old at the time. I was sold to a sea-faring captain, who, as you know, is a ruthless tyrant who thinks me less than an animal. I have been at sea since."

Upon that occasion, and over the next couple of days during his trips to feed the prisoners, Jephthah went on to tell them more about his life. In turn, Tieg told of his father's life as a slave and how he had eventually earned his freedom and returned to Ireland. Many of the other prisoners related similar stories.

This sharing seemed to enhance the camaraderie among the men, except for Elias, who continually asked for better food, meat, and more bread. Tieg and the others argued with him in their own language. But no matter how much they reasoned with him or even threatened him, he could not see why everyone's effort should not go into making him more comfortable. Sound kicks to the shin when Jephthah was not around, helped him to see things from their perspective. They had to keep him from endangering Jephthah's life or ruining everyone's chances of escaping--including his own.

While attempting to keep this problem under control, they continued a friendship with Jephthah. They took turns telling Jephthah of Ireland's beauty. Often, with a faraway look, one of them would speak of how green it was--of rolling hills, rocky, clear-as-crystal brooks and what life had been like there. Jephthah listened intently. It was hard for him to imagine the freedom of which they spoke. He had almost no reference to compare it to, but his imagination was running wild. As they tried to get a plan together, they had many questions for Jephthah.

He was able to tell them the size of the crew and of the weapons each man carried. He told them of the weapons stowed all over the ship. There were swords, spears, shields, bows and arrows, all strategically set up on the deck in the event of trouble with pirates. They learned the shifts, the manning of each shift, and the abilities of each man on that shift. They had come up with decent plans of escape, but all to no avail; they could get no more help from Jephthah. He loved to talk to them, but he was deathly afraid of his master. He would not try anything that could end up putting him in jeopardy. Therefore, in spite of all of their clever plans, they could not remove a single shackle.

### Chapter 20

After a few days, one of the exhausted Irishmen exclaimed, "Forget this!" as he threw aside a link of chain. "I have been rubbing these chain links together for three days now! My hands are cramping into a ball. I cannot even hold the links anymore. We are never getting out of here this way!"

"Aye, even if we could, we would never be able to hold a sword cramped up like this," agreed another as he flexed his fingers.

Brogan looked at Tieg. "I don't understand why that kid will not help us. He knows that we are his ticket to freedom."

"People, for the most part, do not make decisions from evidence or reason. They decide based on emotions--from past experiences, whether the interpretation of those experiences are valid or invalid," Tieg said, thinking aloud.

"Well that only leaves me with one question," Brogan said looking annoyed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Tieg looked up as the thought began to form more clearly. "We focus on his emotions, not his reason."

Brogan pondered this for a moment and then said, "I am not sure I am understanding the difference between working with emotions, compared with reasoning."

"You have done it before; you just called it manipulation. All we have to do is put together a plan in which he cannot lose, and convince him there are no risks. His master has him believing a lie, so we will have to almost brainwash him ourselves to compete on level ground."

"All right," Brogan said with a nod. "I see where you are going with that. So we switch our campaign. And, by some off chance, he brings us a file so that we can free ourselves, which brings up another impossible question; what are we going to do with that?" he asked staring up at their only exit.

"I will lead up through that hatch," Tieg said without emotion.

The men glanced at each other. They knew Tieg was the better fighter among them, but this was not why they looked at each other. Only one man at a time could fit through that door, and no one wanted to be that man first through--unarmed, facing an armed guard. They understood that Tieg was not using a figure-of-speech when he'd said that he would lead through the hatch.

Brogan stared at Tieg, the knowledge of the brevity of their situation upon his face. "Aye," he said, slowly nodding his head.

"Well what is the plan?" someone asked sounding very tired. Enthusiasm was hard to come by after being chained in their filth for three days.

### Chapter 21

Being imprisoned in such a small room, they could easily whisper their plans throughout the night without the risk of someone hearing them. The room was rectangular; the men were in two rows facing each other--one crowded against the next. Because of the man in front, no one could quite stretch out his legs.

While delivering their breakfast the next morning, Jephthah tiptoed through the tangle of legs.

"Say friend, what would you think of a plan that would make you a free man without you ever having taken a chance?" asked Tieg.

"I would say that it sounds like you are trying to talk me into something," Jephthah answered with a smirk.

"Yes, a small favor, just to get things going."

"That sounds like a risk to me."

"Ah, the smallest ever, I am sure."

Somewhat sarcastically, Jephthah replied, "Then I would be a fool not to listen, wouldn't I?" He tore a loaf of bread in two and passed out the halves, and then began filling a cup for everyone to share. "Let's hear it."

Tieg watched him. And then he said, "When you gather the scraps to feed us, you say that the cook is already gone for the evening. All you have to do is grab the file that he uses to sharpen his knives and bring it with you when you next feed us. We will, then, stay up that night filing a link off each other's shackles. Then the next morning, when you are mopping the deck, you could just mop over that crack over there a couple times as a signal that all is clear. We will slip the file up through it. You mop your way to the kitchen and return the file before the cook ever gets there. No one is the wiser.

Then, when you feed us that evening, you could smuggle the chain links out in a waste bucket and dump them overboard. That way, if something goes wrong, there will be no evidence connecting you to us. For even more insurance, all you need to do is drink a lot of water before you go to bed. As soon as you hear a scream, piss yourself." He hurried on at Jephthah's look of distaste. "If something goes wrong and we do not make it, you can just say that you were so afraid you wet yourself and no one will think you an accomplice. Really, though, that is only your backup plan. With just four men on deck at night, there is no possible way that we can fail."

The men went on to encourage Jephthah with tales of their legendary fighting prowess. All of them told of their abilities with such unanimity that it was most convincing. Each one's story feeding another, they boasted of brilliant moves and tactics, like the scissor-swipe and the chopping block. They explained these moves vividly, as though they really existed. The way they put it all together, the lad did not doubt them and finally agreed to help.

"I have got to go. I have probably been down here thirty minutes, and have only half a bucket of filth to show for it. I do not wish to arouse suspicion."

"Yes, you are right," Tieg said. As the lad turned to go, Tieg warned, "Do not look so happy; there is hope showing upon your face."

### Chapter 22

Jephthah did have a lot of hope. For the first time in his life, he realized he could be a free man. He had a hard time looking disheartened that day, but the fear that was his constant companion helped him play the part well. He delivered the file with dinner that evening; that is, if one can consider a couple of loaves of bread, _dinner_.

The men took turns encasing the chain in one hand and the file in the other to muffle the rasping sound. As planned, they did this in a very particular order, in case not everyone had time to get free. They calculated that it would be less than eight hours until Jephthah was mopping the deck.

After nearly seven hours, everyone was free except Elias. He received the file last. An hour later, someone spoke in a hushed tone, "Elias, he is mopping, give me the file now."

"No, I am not yet done."

"Do not worry, we will free you as soon as we take the ship."

"No, Jephthah can come back and get the file later."

Panicked now, the man across from him replied in an intense whisper, "The cook will notice it is gone later! That could get him killed and leave us to face the day crew of ten, while we try to get out of that small hatch, instead of a night crew of four."

"No," Elias replied, completely unconcerned. "Why would the cook notice it missing?"

Because they were getting nowhere in trying to reason with Elias, they glanced at Tieg, who had not spoken a word.

"Well," one of them prodded impatiently, "what are you going to do?"

"If Elias were to fall asleep suddenly," Tieg answered with a shrug, "we could just slip the file right out of his hands."

The men looked puzzled for a moment then one of them, catching on, smiled and asked, "So who needs practice performing a chokehold?"

Elias handed the file over immediately, knowing it was no bluff. Several of them would have preferred he had not given up so easily.

It was not long before a mop swished hurriedly back and forth across the crack in the decking. When they poked the file up through the crack, Jephthah quickly ran the mop over it. Then, acting as though his mop had caught on a splinter, he bent over to untangle it, sliding the file into his palm. He continued mopping, and then straightened and looked around mumbling loud enough to be overheard, "Where is my mop bucket?" Upon remembering, he let out a frustrated sigh, "Not in the galley." He shook his head and trudged back to get the bucket.

The file was in place. All the men could do now was hope that no one came below deck to check on them that day. They were grateful to have a whole day in which to prepare. For days, they had been sitting in one place. If they had to engage in battle immediately, they would not have been able to stand and defend themselves. They now had the time and opportunity to take turns stretching their legs within the small space, and work their muscles until they could move fluidly again. In between the exercise, some attempted to snatch a few moments of sleep. Some of those who had seen many battles before could sleep rather peacefully, while others, having seen the same battles, could not rest much at all.

### Chapter 23

The crew changed at sunset, and the Irishmen took their best guess at four hours. They hoped that ten of the crew would be below deck in the back of the ship sound asleep, and the four on deck would be relaxed and have let down their guard. They were counting on this to be the case.

At the top of the stairs, Tieg waited and listened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just the usual bob and sway of the ship on the water, and the thump and scrape of footsteps on the planks above. Taking a deep breath, he eased the door open slightly, knowing from Jephthah's deliveries that it would squeak if pushed too far. Surprise was their greatest and practically only weapon. Pushing the door up a bit more, he smelled the fresh sea breeze, and eagerly filled his lungs with it. He peered out, getting his bearings on the ship and the crew. Silver moonlight bathed the deck, and the eerie glow of the few oil lamps threw strange shadows as they rocked with the ship. The hinged side of the door impeded his view. He listened, waited a beat and then pushed the door up a few more inches in order to glance behind it. His heart sunk when he focused right into the eyes of the guard on watch. Thankfully, he was frozen with shock and merely stared at him.

Tieg did not hesitate, he reacted. Flinging open the hatch, he jumped onto the deck, and quickly surveyed his surroundings to get an account of the other three guards. No one was behind him. In front was the bewildered guard, who had gathered his wits and was drawing his sword. Behind the guard was a man at the helm, who, at a quick glance, did not look armed. But behind him were two sailors making good time at coming down out of the rigging. _One problem at a time_ , he thought.

As Tieg closed the gap on the guard, it became obvious that the man was confused. He was indecisive in the positioning of his sword, unsure if he wanted to jab or to swing. Seeing this, Tieg moved straight in front of the man hoping to provoke a jab. The guard centered his sword on Tieg and drew back to thrust. Time seemed to slow, as instinct took control. There was no planning it; years of training took over.

Tieg could easily read his opponent, as small details seemed to slam into sharp focus. The guard's shock and indecision were evidence of his lack of discipline and training. His movements were jerky; he was afraid. Suddenly, the guard lunged forward. Tieg slapped the man's blade to the side and swiveled around it, coming in close enough to grab his hair and jerk his head backward. Then, catching his chin with the other hand, he used the guard's own momentum to turn his head around backward. A sharp snap, and the guard wilted. Kneeling with the guard as he fell to his knees, Tieg grabbed the man's sword and was rising to meet the others before the body had hit the deck.

Gripping the sword, Tieg made his way toward the other pirates. Swinging it, he tested its weight and limbered his arm. It felt good in his hand. He glanced at the man at the helm. He still seemed dispassionate; he was unarmed and did not seem eager to change that fact. Tieg left him. The other two were down from the rigging and had armed themselves with some of the weapons placed about the ship. He had expected this; the Irishmen knew the positions of the weapons thanks to the information given them by Jephthah. The first sailor, five paces ahead of the other, palmed an eight-inch blade. Tieg closely watched the pirate take aim at his chest and throw. Anticipating his target, he moved his sword to intercept it. With the edge of his sword, he smacked the tip of the knife turning it from its intended course. It swirled round his sword, the handle smacking into his chest and bouncing off harmlessly. And then, to the sailors' surprise, he caught it. Both men stopped. With a quick flick, Tieg returned the knife; it sank deep into the first sailor's throat, killing him instantly and filling the other man with fear.

With a sudden change of heart, the fight went out of the second sailor and he sent up a yell, "The prisoners have escaped!" Tieg watched as the man's face changed again, going from a look of fright to one of resolve. As the shock and panic began to wear off, he had gone from fleeing, to a fighting stance, his face showing his regained composure. He braced his legs and prepared to fight. He began to swing his sword in a threatening gesture. Tieg stepped forward, swinging his sword in the same manner and waited for the other man's sword to pass his center point. With a clash of sharp steel, he hit his opponent's sword in the direction it was already moving, sending it speeding out of control. He took another step forward, and the pirate leaped backward out of reach.

Tieg noticed that they were now at the rear of the ship. Land was usually in sight because they only traveled up and down the coast. They navigated simply by which side the land was on and how far they were from it. Seeing no harm in it, Tieg waited, giving the sailor time enough to decide whether he wanted to jump overboard and swim for it or continue the fight. With his companion's death still fresh in his mind, he wrestled with this decision for a split second. Tieg backed off, allowing him room to feel comfortable with the jump. For whatever reason, the pirate lunged forward, his sword fully extended in front of him. He had committed himself to the jab by leaning beyond his center of gravity. Metal slid upon metal as their swords met again. Tieg forced the pirate's sword to his left, pushing his upper body to his right. Not even trying to get his feet back under him, he threw his right arm up and forward to give him the balance he needed. With a quick swirling motion, Tieg jerked his sword up, decapitating the man.

Looking away from the now lifeless form, Tieg wondered why the man had not jumped. _Maybe he could not swim; maybe he was too proud. Well, perhaps the world is a better place without him,_ he told himself, pushing it from his mind, which was his standard reaction to the guilt that he carried from killing. Sometimes, it was thieves, murderers and rapists, and the world really was a better place for what he had done. But how could you know, really? Sometimes he could not help but think, _What if they, too, had not wanted to be there_?

He turned and watched as his friends armed themselves with the weapons stowed upon deck and took their positions, all according to the plan they made with the information given to them by Jephthah. It was not part of the plan that it would go so quickly and quietly, but sometimes things just worked out that way. There seemed to always be that unpredictable wild card tossed into even the best-laid plans. Take the guy at the helm, for instance. He's still there; no one is bothering him. He did not even seem to notice what was going on around him. He just sailed on, steering the ship as though unaware of a change of command. There was no stirring below, either. The only sounds made during their attack had been those of the now dead pirates.

The silence made the men uneasy; there should have been more noise. Their captives were supposed to be rushing above deck in complete chaos, confused from having been jolted from sleep. They should now be rushing to meet Tieg, Brogan and one other fighting with swords, while the rest of the men, if there was enough light to permit, shot arrows. Bows were drawn, and everyone was in position, but the pirates were sleeping through the Irishmen's plan.

### Chapter 24

It was the middle of the night, but the moon was full overhead. You could make out facial expressions well beyond arm's length. Tieg decided to see what was happening with the pirate at the wheel. He wanted to ask him a few questions. As Tieg moved in his direction, Brogan and the other swordsman fell in beside him. The lad with Brogan, Ball, was the youngest of them, at sixteen.

Ball was a small lad and not yet very mature in thought. His swordsmanship, however, was neither a small, nor an immature skill. It earned him the position of third in command. Although these positions were not official or even spoken, they certainly existed. As Tieg approached the man at the wheel, Ball ran up next to him. "I'll get him! I'll kill him for you!" He was charging with his sword out in front like a gladiator.

The scrape of Tieg's sword as it crashed into Ball's, jolted him and knocked him to the side. Tieg stepped into him, spinning him around, breaking his concentration. "Easy, Ball," he said calmly, as he pulled him aside to quickly rebuke him out of earshot of the others.

"I'm sorry, Tieg," Ball exclaimed with frustration. "I was trying to help you, but you went through those other guys like they were grass. I can get this guy for you."

"It is fine, Ball. There are ten others below-deck, just for you. When we have to face them all at once, you will be invaluable," Tieg said, putting an arm across Ball's shoulders. "Let us go over here and look at something." With a nod, Tieg signaled Brogan over. "Could you check that guy for a weapon and see what is on his mind? Ball and I are going to check these sails." With a nod, Brogan turned to speak with the man.

Tieg lead Ball over to where they could get a better look at the sails. Pointing, Tieg asked, "You see all that rigging? There are ropes everywhere. Do you know how to work all of that?"

"Well, no, not really. You know, I've never really seen anything like it," he said thoughtfully.

"I was just thinking," Tieg continued, "we are sailing with the wind right now. You see?" Tieg said pointing at the sails.

"Yeah," Ball nodded.

"We are moving away from Ireland, so how are we going to get back to Ireland against the wind?" Tieg asked.

"I do not know," Ball replied, glancing at Tieg, a worried look on his face. "How did they get there in the first place? Do you think the wind was in a different direction?"

"No, I do not think so; not always." Tieg responded.

"How are we going to get home?" he exclaimed, now panicked.

"I do not know. What do you say we go and ask that fellow over there instead of running him through, then?"

Understanding dawned on the young lad's face. They both chuckled and headed back, more calmly now, toward the man at the helm. Ball hesitated a few seconds in admiration of the complexity of the sails as he thought to himself, _All of that must have something to do with this thing being able to sail into the wind._

Because Brogan was already conversing with the man, Tieg came to stand next to him and waited to speak until their conversation ended. Turning to Tieg, Brogan explained, "This man is John. He says that he decided to appear non-threatening after he saw you turn that guy's head around backward. He seems like a sensible man to me," Brogan grinned.

Tieg looked the man directly in the eye, and asked, "Do you plan to remain non-threatening to us, John?"

He watched as John's eyes relaxed a fraction and a small smile of relief came upon his face, but was quickly contained almost as soon as it had appeared. "Yes," he replied. Then he continued somewhat hesitantly, "Would you mind my asking a favor of you?"

With a quirk of his brow, Tieg asked, "What do you have on your mind?"

"That captain is of no account. I will be glad to see him go, but two men down there are my friends. They are good men. They would also work for you. Both are excellent sailors and one of them is even a good cook."

"Well then, I do not know of any reason why we could not work something out." As he turned to leave, Tieg tapped the wheel that John competently held, "Turn this ship around and we will work out a plan on our way home."

"I cannot just turn it around, sir. There is a lot to be adjusted with the sails first, and you killed the men that could do it."

Still distrustful of the man, Tieg replied, "Let me talk this over with my comrades."

The three Irishmen huddled together near the side of the ship to discuss the situation and decide on a plan. "We cannot trust this fellow. We have no way of knowing for sure that he will keep his word. If he gets down there and tries something, and that crew wakes up forewarned, they could hole up down there." This was all Tieg said because it had already been discussed repeatedly in their initial planning. Brogan and Ball knew the supplies were down there, which would necessitate them going on the offense. If the crew took defensive positions, it would be very difficult or even impossible to dislodge them. They would certainly lose comrades to the endeavor; that being something none of the three was willing to risk for this pirate's friends.

"The only way we could work this is if Jephthah were here and he vouched for this fellow and the other two. Then he could go wake them and tell them to come up top--that John wants to see them. If they really are John's friends, they will do it." With this tactic finally agreed upon, the only question left was: who goes down after Jephthah?

### Chapter 25

Ball could barely make out his hand in front of his face as he slipped through the darkness of the unfamiliar chamber. He crouched down looking upward, implementing the more well-lit background to get a better picture of the room's objects. Tieg reluctantly agreed to let Ball go and retrieve Jephthah from the den of murdering thieves. Ball had been very insistent, wishing to redeem himself for not having helped Tieg clear the deck; which was not his fault, of course, but no one could convince him of that.

Pacing above deck, Tieg tried to reassure himself that sending Ball was the most logical decision. Whoever went down there would have to be proficient with a sword in the event that something went wrong. This fact quickly narrowed his choices to Brogan, Ball and himself. The rest of the men were unwilling to risk their leader. Of the three, Ball seemed to have the best night vision and the least popping joints. Tieg was reminding himself of this for the third or fourth time. The lad was so young; Tieg could not help feeling responsible for him as he would a younger brother--a very immature younger brother.

Still worrying about Ball, Tieg moved over near the door hoping for some sign that would let him know things were alright. _Maybe if I heard trouble I could jump down there and help. Yeah, that is what I will do. No, no, I would need time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I would not be able to tell who was who, or what was what, or who was what. What? Oh, good grief!_ He ground his teeth, his stomach sinking with each minute that dragged by and the realization that there was nothing he could do but keep waiting.

Ball's eyes had adjusted enough now that he started to move through the room. He knew that Jephthah slept in the back right corner on a mat on the floor. The pirates did not afford him a hammock. The men had gotten this information from Jephthah just in case something like this came about so they could get him up and out of harm's way.

Brogan was keeping an eye on John who looked unperturbed. He seemed too calm to Brogan, especially after the ridiculous lie they had just told him.

John was under the impression that the small lad was going down into a dark room, which he had never seen before, and come back up with both the men that John had described. Who would, no doubt, be hostile. The fact that none of this seemed to bother John at all, worried Brogan. As he stared John down, he wondered if he had searched him well enough. _Maybe they have some emergency plan for this situation,_ Brogan thought. No matter how hard he studied John, it did not provide him with any answers. John's continued complacency was only making Brogan more paranoid.

John knew nothing about their connection to Jephthah. They had given Jephthah their word that his allegiance to them would remain a secret forever or until the crew was completely eliminated. But now they needed to run the names of John and his friends by Jephthah to find out his opinion of them. If it turned out to be a negative one, they would have to devise a new plan. He wondered what would happen when Jephthah found out that they could not sail the boat. As it was, Jephthah had a rather misguided opinion that they could do everything.

Ball surveyed the room from two different angles. He had a good layout of it in his mind, and was now prepared to handle this important task to the best of his ability, just as he had promised Tieg he would do.

Jephthah lay awake, staring at the planks above. He was running the scenario through his mind repeatedly. He pictured the way things would happen and it made him feel a little better to see it all work out, even if it was just in his mind. Ball was looking in the general area that Jephthah had described when he saw him move on his mat. He put his sword behind him to keep the moment as calm as possible, but Jephthah was not about to make a sound, for it was those sleeping in the room with him that he was afraid of. It took almost nothing to get his attention, and less than that to get him out of there.

Once they came out, they could see John and Brogan. John had his back turned to them steering the ship, and Brogan was too busy staring a hole through John to notice them. Once they came into the light, Tieg stepped from behind the door. With a barely perceptible nod, Tieg indicated they should discuss things at the back of the ship. Signaling Brogan, the four moved to the rear of the ship to discuss John and his two friends.

They sent Ball to round up the others. They needed to completely rework their plans; none had thought that the pirates would sleep through them taking over the ship.

### Chapter 26

With everyone gathered, excluding Brogan who had volunteered to go back and keep watch on John, Tieg explained the new occurrences. "We are in a much better position than before, but are by no means out of the woods. We have the high ground. We are in a good defensive position in that we still hold the element of surprise. However, we are outnumbered two to one counting the guy at the wheel. If we lose the element of surprise, we will lose our defensive position. Most of the food and water is down there with them. If they hole up down there, we will have to file one by one through that door in order to attack them while they hold the stronger position. In the best case, we would win, but probably at the cost of more than half of us. We have to come up with a new plan."

They spent more than an hour trying to devise a plan that would keep Jephthah's participation in their escape undetectable, but could think of nothing. Their best ideas--their only workable plan--would link Jephthah's fate to their own.

Once again, the men took their positions. They would remain out of sight until all of the pirates were well out of the hole. Jephthah woke the two men that John had named, telling them that John needed to see them right away. Then Jephthah quickly made his way to the slave holding chamber to take shelter there with Elias, all the while telling himself that, if it did not work out he could say that they had forced him to do it. In the background of his mind, behind his conscious thoughts, he remembered beatings of which he thought he would not survive, causing great terror to pour through him. His mind used those experiences to interpret his present situation, leaving him paralyzed with fear.

The two men, still half asleep and visibly irritated, appeared on deck. As they approached John, one of them asked, "What the hell do you want?" At that moment, John heard a loud whistle; he paused knowing that, in a second, he would not have to explain. Two Irishmen with bows drawn popped up, and the pirates' faces awoke with dread. At the sound of footsteps coming from behind, they turned to face three swordsmen. With a sarcastic smirk, John said, "I just wanted to introduce you to your new captain."

"How would you two like to sail for us?" Tieg asked.

"Would that include living at the end of the journey, as well?" one of the pirates questioned.

Tieg smiled, and with a small bow, said, "Yes, of course. I will also pay you the same amount you make now."

"Sure. When can we get started?" one of them asked trying to smile. He looked over at his comrade who also worked up what looked to be a very painful smile. _They look like they have the worst bowel pain,_ Tieg thought.

"Do whatever you have to do with the sails to turn this ship around. Turn it hard, and throw them from their beds," said Tieg. The two men immediately set to work on the sails.

Tieg marveled at their ability. He was pleased to see the plan in action. Then, as one of the men untied a rope and began to swing the mast about, he dashed suddenly into the entryway where the others slept and started shouting. His friend, who was still dutifully working with the sails, looked on in utter shock. His eyes huge with fright, jaw slack, he quickly glanced to the bowmen who had him in their sights, and then at Tieg. Not knowing what else to do, he tossed up his hands in surrender.

Even the most socially inept person could read the archers' faces. _What do we do here?_ They awaited instruction from Tieg, but he just stood there with a shocked, blank expression, which only made them panic more. Within a few moments, Tieg shook himself and held up his hand signaling them to hold--the sudden movement causing the pinned sailor to flinch.

"Give me a second to think," he mumbled to himself. He knew that there was a very real and highly likely chance that he would make a bad decision at this point, and that was the cause of his fear. They desperately needed this guy to sail the damn boat. He appeared innocent enough and his surprise had seemed genuine. Tieg could now hear them running down below--arming themselves, no doubt. He had very little time to make his decision. He took a breath. He knew he must not allow the thought, _I have no time_ , to cause him to panic and lose his ability to reason. He thought, instead, _I have little time_. The ability to do this is what separated him from others and made him a competent leader. He literally had seconds to decide if this guy was neutral and would be a great help to them, or if he would turn on them when they were most vulnerable as his friend had. He dropped his hand, signaling the archers to lower their bows. "If he makes any sudden movements, shoot him in the gut and do not let him jump overboard. The same goes for John," he said in English, so the pirates could hear and understand.

John looked relieved; the sailor's face was still filled with fear. Tieg knew his comrades were not good archers; neither did they have time to keep anyone from jumping overboard; he just hoped that his bluff was not obvious to the other men.

### Chapter 27

The Irishmen hunched down out of sight, hoping to draw out all eight men. Their hearts pounded as they wondered if the pirates would barricade themselves below or would they all come out at once and outnumber them? Either option was a catastrophe. Under these circumstances, it was all about which option held the best chance of survival, no matter how minimal it may be.

Tieg heard the rush of footsteps as sailors charged up toward the deck. He peered around the corner to judge the best time to attack, while quickly preparing himself for battle. _It does not make any difference how many are up here. They will discover one of us at any second._ He gave the signal. Two archers stepped from their hiding places, each shooting an arrow into the same man. _The_ _Idiots!_ Tieg thought as his sword clashed with another _. Why can they not follow the simplest of instructions --I shoot my side, you shoot your side!_

Now the three of them with swords faced seven pirates. Six would have been better. _Ball is just a kid; they will probably kill him._ Tieg swung wildly at his opponent. He knew the moment he swung that he had over-extended in a blind rage. He realized immediately that he had left himself wide open and then he forced himself to snap out of such thoughts. He looked quickly to try to determine his opponent's next move. An undercut and then a slash to his stomach, was somehow written upon his face. He knew that he would never get his sword back in front in time to deflect the blow, so he sucked in his stomach, and jumped back and away from the blade. The sword whooshed past.

He looked down expecting to see his bowels spilling onto the ship's deck. There was nothing. He wondered if he was seeing things in slow motion, as they sometimes appear in a fight, and his guts had yet to fall out. It did not matter at this point. He scolded himself for looking down. _I have to keep my head in the game._ It never seemed this hard before.

It was his turn now, as his opponent had over-extended himself. Tieg stepped forward bringing his body too close for another swing or jab from his opponent, whose sword had already swung past, leaving him exposed and with no time to react. Tieg plunged his blade into the pirate's side, twisting the sword from his hand, and then kicked him backward to retrieve his own sword from the man's ribs.

As he glanced toward the other side of the ship, Tieg could see the captain and his comrade hiding from the archers _. I guess they are good for something after all._ To his left, Brogan was fending off two pirates, but they were beginning to steadily push him back. The two archers were right behind them, reloaded and looking for a target. Tieg knew that the captain and his pirates could see this and were not about to come out from their shielded position. He waved his sword to get the archers' attention and shouted, "Help Brogan!" They ran to follow orders, but knew they could not draw a clean shot for fear of injuring Brogan. They had not yet considered rushing right up on the fellows.

Tieg now ran in search of Ball, whom he had not seen in the melee for some time. He peered around a stack of crates and spotted him to his right--in big trouble, of course. He was pinned soundly against the ship's wall, and two pirates were hacking away at him. The boy could fight, this was for certain: he managed to block the blows as they were both swinging down on him, but it looked as though one was about to try a new tactic. Tieg saw his change in position and knew what he intended. The pirate had noticed that, while Ball blocked the blows from above, his side was exposed. And the pirate was readying himself to take advantage of that.

Waiting for his comrade's downward swing, which would draw Ball's sword upward to block, he readied himself to jab his blade into the lad's exposed stomach. Tieg figured that Ball would block the downward blow at his left, but not the jab to his right side; he would never see it coming. As the man on the left began to swing downward, his accomplice drew back, but was suddenly pushed forward when he felt a punch to his back.

He caught sight of movement at his left breastbone. _Odd_ , he thought. Dazed, he reached to touch the blade point protruding from his chest. He stumbled toward Ball, and his sword sliced through Ball's coat. Startled at seeing his accomplice fall, the other man turned to look. As he did, a blade ripped through his temple and exited the other side, pinning him soundly to the wall. The now dead man was pinned in a standing position just next to Ball, who could only stare in disbelief.

Tieg had thrown from where he stood at the crates, and was now unarmed. Having seen this, the captain and the man with him began running toward Tieg. They had observed that Brogan was still holding off the two pirates, and, with the two archers running to help with bows drawn, it did not look good for those pirates battling on the starboard side. From the captain's point of view, the unarmed man looked like a more promising and safer opponent. In the meantime, Tieg was running for Ball who had quickly shaken himself from his shock and was retrieving Tieg's sword. He made a dash for Tieg and threw him the sword. Tieg caught it and turned to face the two men who were bearing down on him from the left. Tieg waited until they were one step from within reach and he leaped to the captain's right, thus cutting himself off from the bodyguard. Ball stepped forward to engage the bodyguard.

Tieg thought he would be in for a challenge, facing a man who must have had years of fighting experience. After the first block, Tieg swung down and sliced open the captain's forearm. With just a few more moves, he had nicked his throat. The captain was bleeding badly now. All Tieg would have to do is hold him off for a minute or two more and he would probably pass out.

The captain looked over in time to see Ball run through his accomplice. The guard had held his sword in his right hand and kept his shoulder facing Ball, in hopes of protecting his vital organs. But Ball faked a hard swing from the pirate's left. The pirate swung hard to block, but Ball's sword dropped below his. Ball lunged forward making a circular movement, his sword traveling straight up and then forcefully downward, sliced the arm off his opponent. The pirate's sword fell onto the deck, his hand still gripping it tightly; he stared at it in horror. Before he could scream, Ball ran him through.

The captain's eyes narrowed in anger as he growled, "I will kill all of you worthless slaves!" As he charged Tieg, their swords met and clashed angrily as they fought. Tieg pushed him back a few feet, and then took a high swing at the captain's face. The captain blocked, but as he did, Tieg kicked him in the chest sending him into a backward run in an attempt to keep his feet beneath him. Then running out of deck, the captain rammed back into the railing, his momentum pitching him over the side. They were sailing along the coast of Spain, which was probably swimming distance if you were in good shape. Tieg peered over the rail, and could see the man struggling. He surmised, with the blood loss, that he would be dead within twenty minutes if it didn't draw the sharks first.

### Chapter 28

Tieg turned around and surveyed his surroundings. Brogan and the two archers stood with a look of surprise; the two bodies sprawled on the floor behind them. Ball appeared to be angry about something, and was fiddling with his sword. He had never even bothered to see what happened to the captain.

In the meantime, the sailor in the rigging was terrified and appeared to be searching for a clear path to jump overboard.

"You've nothing to fear. We will feed you and pay you the same as they paid," Tieg said. He did not have any money and did not know if there was any aboard, but it sounded better than slavery. A man having his freedom to look forward to would be more helpful and a lot easier to deal with, than a man with no hope of a future. John was still at the wheel, his expression passive. He had not even looked around at all that had happened.

Tieg felt puzzled and out of sorts when he thought of John. He did not understand the indifference on John's face, and searched through his memories, trying to find a point of reference--a way to interpret this situation--this man. His mind came up blank. _Maybe the situation is not very intense from his perspective. Maybe he has seen this sort of thing before._

"Yes! We did it! We are free men again, lads!" Brogan exclaimed. The tension was broken; there were smiles all around.

"Let's turn this ship around!" Tieg shouted. The loud roar of freed men vibrated from the ship.

They threw the dead bodies overboard and washed the deck. They even got their hands on some soap, and, scooping seawater by the buckets, had baths. The relief of a simple bath, after living in your own, as well as others, filth for over a week was a huge morale booster. They despised the chamber they had been held in so much that they had to bribe Jephthah to go back down there and free Elias.

Spain was to their right now--they were finally heading home. The two remaining pirates were working out well and seemed like nice enough fellows. They taught the Irishmen to sail. John even stayed up a couple of extra hours to teach them about the rigging. Half of the men took the night shift with John, while the other half took days with his friend. Tieg asked Brogan to run the night crew, wanting someone competent there to keep an eye on John.

Late one evening, as the day crew was changing out with the night crew, Tieg called them together. "We need another plan." John and his friend tried to politely move from within earshot, but Tieg, seeing this, stopped them. "This includes the two of you, as well. We have nothing to hide from you. I told you that you are free men and that I will pay you the same as you were receiving from the captain. I just do not believe that John was getting paid a king's ransom each year."

There was a rumble of laughter. John smiled at the joke, an apparently funny one at that. John had never said a thing like that but it lightened everyone's spirits, as intended. Tieg did not have anything to hide from the two men and he figured the better they understood the situation, the less likely it would be that he have a spear run through him as he slept.

"Okay, back to coming up with a plan, lads. In just a couple short days, we will be arriving in Ireland, and home." A hearty cheer went up at his words. "I will not be staying in Ireland, lads. I will be returning to the Mediterranean with these two men and anyone of you who wants to come along."

His words met only with the sound of the waves against the hull and the cry of distant seagulls. The men's faces were a mixture of surprise and confusion. Then one of them spoke, "I thought all of this was so you could go home."

"It was," he said with a nod. "We all did what we did, for freedom--for the way it feels when you come up here and draw some water to rinse off and no one can stop you--no one can keep you from that basic need. That is a sample of freedom. Thanks to all of you, I can enjoy that freedom anywhere I go. Home can be wherever I see fit to make it. We can all enjoy that freedom now, even Jephthah, who has never tasted of it before."

Upon hearing Tieg's declaration, Jephthah knew that he would soon be facing the decision of whether he should stay in Ireland with a bunch of strangers, or sail back to the Mediterranean with a different set of strangers. He had been born a slave, and therefore, had never had the advantage of developing the ability to think for himself. Decisions had always been made for him--forced upon him.

His mind now questioned where they were, and why it was safe to return to Ireland now. He wondered if the clan would accept him with his lack of knowledge of their language or culture. His mind pondered these things, yet at the same time it could go no further. He did not know how to find the information to answer these questions. He would now have to learn how to make wise decisions, not as a child under the careful and watchful eye of a mother, but as a man, in life and death situations. He had somehow come to this realization, and he was leaning toward sticking with Tieg.

Tieg had taken time with him and had helped open his mind some. He also insisted that Jephthah practice with the sword and bow for an hour each day. Jephthah had no idea how to use either, and did not see the point in learning now. When he voiced his thoughts to Tieg, Tieg merely shrugged and replied, "There is always a purpose in being a little better than yesterday."

Tieg explained to the men, "The night we were all taken, a treasure was also taken from me. I figure it is bound for the Mediterranean, just as we were. I have been going through the captain's belongings and found his currency." Nodding toward the two sailors, he said, "It is barely enough to pay these guys and Jephthah for bringing us home. I need enough money to get me to the Mediterranean to buy back what was taken from me, and then return home again."

The men looked on without speaking. "You all are probably wondering what my need for money has to do with you and our next plan. Let me explain. First of all, I will need a crew. Any man who would like to hire on to take me there and back would be paid well, which brings up my second issue--money. I have been thinking about how to raise the money and I have come up with something that may interest the lot of you. The way I figure it, the slave trade--the one the captain dragged us into--must be a lucrative one. He tied up all of his currency in us. It only stands to reason that he planned to make enough to pay his whole crew and have profit left over. Can any of you think of anyone you would like to see join the slave trade?"

They all smiled a bit in confusion. Then Brogan answered, "I know who you are referring to, but he is just one old man. How much could just one old priest bring?"

"Certainly not as much as the six of us would have brought the good captain, if that is what you are comparing it to. But there is one other thing: who do you think got the biggest cut from the sale of us and all the booty from our village?"

"Why, it would have to be that Judas that sold us all! He was smart. I'll bet he insisted on a large portion before he would sell us out!"

"Where do you think he keeps all of that blood money and what do you think would be the most satisfying way to get the money we need?"

Everyone was for that; everyone liked money after all, and the chance for revenge made it even sweeter.

"It's settled then. All that is left is coming up with a plan that everyone is in harmony with."

### Chapter 29

The trip continued smoothly, yet, the closer they got to Ireland, the sicker their stomachs became. Their concerns for their families, homes and friends were at the forefront of their minds. Their imaginations were running in every direction. What would they find? Those who felt insecure, talked about it the most, asking everyone the exact same question in one form or another, repeatedly, "Who do you think is still alive?"

"What do you think is left of the village?" they would ask, as if any man there could have received any news.

One day at sunset, someone saw a small spot in the distance. By all calculations, it was Ireland. Worried thoughts as large as the island itself weighed on their minds; there was no sleep that night for any of the Irishmen.

### Chapter 30

It was late in the evening two days later when they arrived at the cove they were looking for. A thick fog concealed its banks. Hanging heavily along the ground, it poured from the trees, to curl out over the water.

The men anxiously abandoned the ship. They left one of the sailors behind to keep watch of it. Both sailors had wanted to stay, but the Irishmen thought it best to leave the ship with the sailor least capable of sailing it.

The sailor staying aboard the ship, rowed the rest of the men to the shore. They jumped out with an eagerness driven by long anticipation; that is, everyone except John and Jephthah, who were given no choice but to accompany the Irishmen home. John's movements were slow. A longing look back at the retreating boat that his friend rowed to the ship revealed just how much he did not want to be there. He had concerns about traveling through Ireland in the dark, knowing that these men had vicious enemies, especially in a fog so dense these Irishmen's own family would not recognize them.

To John's dismay, the Irishmen would not spend another sleepless night wondering about the matter. Out upon the sea, they could not cause the wind to blow, or blow any harder, but they would rather be damned for eternity than pace through another sleepless night of not knowing, when their home and answers were only a few hour's walk away. Seeing that each face was set like flint, John picked up the pace. He knew there would be no use complaining, and there would be very little patience, if for any reason, they were held up.

The Irishmen's minds were plagued by apprehensive thoughts. They did not know what to expect. Eager to learn their clan's fate--their adrenalin pumping--they began to walk faster and faster. John was a heavyset man with short legs. He was out of breath and almost jogging to keep up. Jephthah was excited to be involved in an adventure.

They knew that what they were doing was dangerous; what was ahead was unknown. They didn't know who now occupied the village. Yet, they hurried forward at such a pace that they could not silence their progression down the path.

Distractedly plowing through the bushes, they did not even realize where they were until a voice suddenly startled them. "Who goes there?"

The stunned men stood in silence.

"Who goes there? Speak up, damn it!"

"You know who goes here! Same as we know who goes there!"

"Brogan, lad, is that you?" the voice exclaimed in a softer tone.

"It is, my friend. It is!"

The man stepped out into the path. There were warm smiles and great smacking slaps upon the backs as they embraced their friend. It seemed there was not enough of their friend to go around. Emotions welled up; the recently freed Irishmen stood there drying tears from their eyes. Stunned from the feelings that had engulfed them, they grew silent.

After all of the endless nights questioning what was left of their village and their clan, they now stood before their friend who had the answers and were silent.

A few moments later, the silence was broken by the obvious question, "What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?" That was it? After all the thousands of worried questions, it was all they could think of to ask as they slowly began to calm down.

"The village is destroyed, along with the walls. We sleep in the open like animals with no protection of wall or shelter. We guard all of these trails leading to the village so we cannot be surprised."

It was clearly stated, but the men were in shock. "What? You said _we_. There are others you are protecting? Who lives? Where?" Everyone pushed for an answer, their words jumbling together as their stressed minds suddenly remembered all of the questions they had.

Their friend, a big man called Bin, just chuckled. "You fellows have had a long hard trip, I'll bet. Come on down and tell everyone about it. There are many survivors," he said. And then he added solemnly, "And there were many lost. We have a lot to tell you."

Emotion overwhelmed them when they arrived in the village, but this time there was more than one lost friend to go around. There were many hugs and tears. There were tears of joy for those who made it. Brogan found his wife and their baby. Another found his wife and two children, all in good health. There were also tears of sadness. Ball's and Tieg's families were missing. There was such a mixture of feelings; tears of grief could just as quickly turn to tears of joy.

Tieg and Ball were glad to see so many of their friends, but felt somewhat hollow at the absence of their own families. As they sat by the fire, everyone exchanged stories. They learned the details of what had happened that night.

It had been Tieg's celebration. The daughter of Riordan was carrying Tieg's child and her father had given her to Tieg in marriage. Everyone was celebrating their union and the child to come. The people of the village were bringing them gifts, which of course, included beers and wines, thus accounting for Tieg's capture and many of those aboard the ship with him.

"The old Judas had thought everyone, including the guards, would be drunk. He let in the enemy and they set everything ablaze so they could see clearly enough to eradicate us. Someone's screams woke everyone, and some people went out and faced them, holding them back so that others could escape through the secret passages leading into the forest. Your father was one of those people," the old man said, looking over at Tieg. "The enemy had not expected this; it took them forever to make it through the handful that came out to meet them; that is why all of us made it out."

The two clans were bitter enemies, spending all of their time fortifying their villages and killing one another. The priest was the only person allowed into both cities; most thought him to be neutral. Some suspected him of being corrupt, and a few of the clan leaders knew him to be so, but thought they could control his evil and use it to their advantage. All ended up harmed in the end.

"He has taken refuge with our enemies now," one of the clansmen said. "When he found out that we were not destroyed, he held up in their village and has not come out since. We did some spying and found his house, but it is up in the middle of town and the village is heavily fortified and well guarded. It would be a blood bath trying to get him out of there."

Tieg spoke quietly, "What if you could have your revenge on him and live in peace? What if you could live and only labor for your wellbeing, rather than merely preparing to fight another battle? Would you take it?" he asked.

"Of course we would. Our people have been dying needlessly for years," one of them said as the rest nodded in agreement.

"Would you really be interested?" he asked more sternly. "The price of peace is high. You would have a hard decision to make."

They paused now, discerning the seriousness of his question, and giving more thought to what their decision could cost them. Then one of the elders answered, "Yes, we are interested. We have nothing. We are sleeping in the open, and have to use so many men for guard duty that we will be unable to rebuild before the cold arrives. We will die of exposure and lack of food, come winter. If they see us making good progress, they will know we do not have many on guard, and will attack us."

Tieg continued, "If you really believe that, you may wish to listen to what I have to say."

They discussed matters until the sky lightened on the horizon. There were many plans and hard decisions to make. Jephthah was very interested in what was going on, but most of the people only spoke Celtic, so he decided to join John, who was sound asleep curled up next to a nearby fire. The lads returning home had their days and nights turned around, and it was just as well, for the next night would be yet another busy one.

### Chapter 31

The following day, the travelers were able to get some much-needed sleep. When they finally awoke, it was late in the afternoon. They ate and went through the motions of getting ready for bed in case someone was watching. They gathered around the campfire that evening and went over their plans, making sure that everyone had the supplies agreed upon.

About three hours after dark, they all dispersed back to their places upon the cold ground. But, instead of lying down, after a few moments, each one slipped away.

Tieg woke Jephthah. "Are you sure you want to come with us? Not only do you not know what any of these men are saying, this country is unknown to you. John will be staying behind."

Jephthah propped on an elbow, and smiled. "I would not miss this for anything."

Tieg rapped him on the leg and rose. "Alright, but you have to stick with me, and I mean almost under my armpit. I do not want to lose you in the forest."

They rendezvoused at a designated spot behind their enemy's village, where one of them quietly swam the river and tied off a rope, thus securing it on both sides of the river. The men held on to it and began easing down into the water. Laden with their supplies, their shoulders burning with the effort, they pulled their way across. They took every precaution to move in complete silence.

After reaching the other side, they spent thirty minutes ringing out sheepskins and drying off, ensuring that they would not be dripping much-- ridding themselves of any unnecessary noise.

The men were only five minutes away from the village wall. But they couldn't just stand up and walk there. They did not know if someone would be standing guard just on the other side. According to the information they were given, the wall was supposedly unguarded, at least at night. But the term, "supposedly" did not sit well with those who would die if inaccurate.

Two hours had passed before everyone slipped into place against the wall. They squatted there motionless, peering through cracks, and listening very carefully. Sweat trickled down their foreheads. The night was not hot; they perspired with anxiety and effort. If it did not go well on this side of the wall, they could escape, postponing death, at least until winter's exposure to the cold and rain. If they tried to rebuild their walls and shelters, the enemy would surely attack. They would have to fortify first, and they did not have that kind of time. They would be in the freezing rain of winter, dying of pneumonia, contemplating over and over the reasons why they had failed. This was what they thought of. This is what kept them completely motionless, breathing very softly for almost four hours, looking, listening and studying the situation.

The villagers would certainly not be expecting any kind of attack from them. They were harmless, assumed to have no food, and with inferior numbers. No one would see this coming.

With about three hours until daylight, one of the men stood, pausing to see if anyone had any objection. He threw a rope around a tall structural post jutting up from the wall. Once he had successfully secured the rope around the post, he eased back into place. He was too cautious to even wipe the sweat that ran into the corner of his eye. He just closed it tightly, remaining as unmoving as a statue--breathing so quietly that you wouldn't have known he was there if he were standing next to you.

A couple of minutes later, two men carrying a triangular ladder, stood to their feet. Their ladder consisted of two poles, which came together at the top and were as wide as two men at the bottom. They ran the top of the ladder through the loop in the rope and pulled tight. One of them squatted, as the other remained standing. This was the signal that everything was good. On to the next step.

Two men stood and removed large rocks from a pouch they had slung over their shoulders, and started easing their way toward the ladder. They had managed only two steps when a closed-fisted hand went up. They gave meaning to the word freeze as they became as still as a frozen stream, their faces turning pale white. Their hands and arms grew cold. They saw the signal that something was amiss; something was moving on the other side of the wall.

It was some time before they could identify the culprit. It turned out to be only a few straggler sheep. After studying the situation for fifteen or twenty more minutes, someone gave the signal to go ahead. The two men carried the rocks to the foot of the ladder, pushed the ladder against the wall and jammed the rocks against its legs. One remained standing securing the ladder, while the other climbed to the top. The wall consisted of support poles that were very long with one end buried into the ground, and smaller sticks of random sizes, all sharpened to jagged points across the top. When the man on the ladder reached the top of the wall, he tied on another rope and lowered it down the other side. He put two-layers of sheepskin over the jagged poles and then slid over the wall down the rope. The rest of the men remained motionless for about five minutes to see if anyone had discovered them. Then the man on the inside scratched three times lightly on the fence. In the silence, the noise seemed very loud. First one, then the other went up the ladder and over the wall until all were on the other side. The twelve of them were now inside the village of life-long enemies.

### Chapter 32

Their destination was in the middle of the village. There were only about two hours until daylight, which meant that people could be stirring. They decided to leave the rope, thinking an emergency exit outweighed the remote chance that someone would pass by there and see it. They had sheepskins with the heads and legs still attached. They got down on hands and knees, draping the skins over them, and then went right through the middle of the village, straight to their destination. Earlier, they had spied out the village from atop a distant tree, and they'd memorized landmarks and pathways. They had also managed to get some inside information. The house they were looking for was on the main path. The home, with its relatively immense size and distinct shape, was easily distinguishable even in the darkness. Luckily, it was summertime and the windows were open to let in the cool night air. The home belonged to Paddy and his family. In this village, Paddy was the most respected of the clan leaders.

Paddy twitched as something brushed lightly against his face, then came fully awake as he felt a rag being stuffed roughly into his mouth. He attempted to resist, but was then jerked forcefully from his bed. As two men bound up his legs, another secured the gag in his mouth. He fought, but to no avail; forcing him to realize that another strategy was required. Judging by the thrashing next to him, Paddy knew that they had his wife, as well. They dragged him into the kitchen and forced him into a chair at the table.

He heard the clap of flint rocks and soon a torch was flaming. He watched as the intruders lit another and then another until the whole room was flooded with light. The first thing he noticed was his wife and two boys seated around the table. Just like dinnertime, he thought inanely, except they were all bound and gagged. He felt helpless as he looked around and noticed sheepskins covering the windows. No one would see them. What would become of them? Would these intruders make him watch his children die? What kind of sick plan did they have? Paddy accepted death; it was his family and how they would die that had him pale, as sweat began to bead up on his forehead.

Paddy's wife, Gloria, was hysterical. Tieg grabbed her jaw, pulling her face up until she looked into his eyes. She started to fight and jerk away. She would not give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Then he said something that had her searching his face. "The babe sleeps soundly in his basket in your room; let us leave it that way." She straightened in her chair and stopped fighting him. Was it some sort of threat? He let go of her jaw and stepped back.

Then looking at Paddy, he spoke, "No one has to die here today--no one. Could you just have a conversation with us?" Tieg paused and looked directly into Paddy's eyes trying to judge how the man felt about it. He looked calmer. Maybe there was some hope that they could work out something. After all, no one was hurt. Tieg let him calm down for another moment before continuing.

He signaled two men to step forward. They presented to Paddy and Gloria two sharp spears, and then circled around behind them. Paddy straightened in his seat, concern clouding his face. His wife let out a hiss of disgust, her eyes, now narrowed with bitterness seemed to say: _I knew you were just going to kill us like a bunch of dogs._ Tieg centered himself across the table in front of them. To his right were their two young sons.

"Every conversation has an accepted social etiquette," he shrugged, "or rules, right? Well, here are the rules. We are going to un-gag you Paddy, and completely untie Gloria. If anyone screams or yells, we kill you immediately. Think of it like this, there is a mechanical device behind you that will, in the event you make a loud noise, instantly and with no compunction, slam a spear right through both of you. The small lads will remain gagged, because I am serious about killing the person who screams, and I would not want to put that responsibility upon these little ones. We have not come here to kill; it is now completely up to you to keep it that way." Tieg looked at Brogan who was standing next to them and gave him a nod. Brogan removed the gag from Paddy and then Gloria.

As Brogan removed the gags, the men were nervous. The question on all of their minds was: if things go wrong, will there be enough time to get to the rope before daylight?

Paddy and Gloria stared at Tieg since he had done all of the talking so far. At his delay in instruction, they broke their stare almost simultaneously to survey their situation. They had not noticed before that there were twelve men. Seven torches lit the room well enough to clearly see the sheepskins on all of the windows, the barricaded door, and the men, all heavily armed. After Paddy looked the room over, he settled back into his seat as though he had accepted the fact that he was not going anywhere, or at least he was making it appear that way.

"Well," Paddy asked, "how did you know where I live and that I am a clan leader?"

"We will give you one guess," growled one of the twelve.

Paddy closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his face a mask of disgust and disappointment. He just sat for a moment. Then feeling he had to verify, he asked it, "It was the old priest then?"

"You figure right. We all knew that he was evil. We just thought that we could control it--use it for our own good. It looks like, in the end, it got us both."

Paddy sneered, "It looks as though you got the last laugh."

"Our families are either dead or missing; I do not think anybody is going to be laughing."

"So that is it; you are going to kill me and my family in revenge?"

"No." The word was spoken so simply, yet it had the power to change a history of vengeance and death.

"Then what are you doing here?" Paddy asked in complete exasperation.

"Well, you never _invite_ us over," Tieg said with a smirk.

It was obvious that no one else saw the humor in it at that moment, including Paddy whose face looked as though it were made of stone.

Tieg continued, "That priest was always telling us how sinful this village was, with its drunken orgies and incessant fighting. Not surprisingly, the volunteer rate to spy on your village more than doubled at such information. But when no reports of it came back, you could not even pay anyone to do it." As Tieg said this, he looked at his men, who suddenly found it necessary to check the safety of the floorboards, giving them a good, hard stare.

"He also told us of how you were out to destroy us. He encouraged us to preemptively strike and destroy Sodom, sharing the profit with the Lord, of course. It is just a guess that he was telling you the same thing, but you took him up on it."

At that information, Paddy could no longer hide his reaction. He looked surprised, and then, with much sadness and humility, gave a single nod. Paddy, humbled some now, but still at a complete loss, said, "I do not understand what you want."

"I want peace!" It was the first time Tieg had raised his voice during their meeting. "Complete peace between our clans."

"Oh lad," Paddy exclaimed in a most regretful tone, "there is no such thing as peace between our clans; no treaties, none of it. Nothing works. There is an impassable gorge of bitterness between us."

Tieg broke in, his voice hard, "All of the treaties and deals never worked because they were cheap. No one paid a price; therefore, no one was motivated to keep the peace. It was too cheap. For the price of peace is high."

Gloria butted in, "Just what kind of price are you talking about paying?"

Turning to her, Tieg asked, "Gloria, how many family members have you lost to this war?"

She paused for a moment not wanting to answer him. Eventually, she said quietly, "My father, my brother, my first husband and son."

He nodded slowly at her admission and then asked, "What about you, Paddy?"

"My father," he replied, and then added hastily, "but it would not do a man to die of old age around here. I lost my two older brothers, as well."

There was silence now as everyone realized how the war had affected all. Tieg got up and walked around behind the two young boys, who were tied next to where he sat. With a hand on each boy's shoulder, he looked at their parents and asked, "Which one of these two will die in this war? Or will it be both?"

Neither Paddy nor Gloria responded, but their faces grew pale under the orange light of the torches. They stared blankly at the two boys in front of them. Finally, Paddy spoke up, "If there were some high price to pay to save my boys, I would pay it. I would pay anything, but I can imagine no such thing that would bring peace."

After a long silence, Tieg spoke. He told them of an ancient oral tradition that came from a foreign land across the sea. His father had heard of it while he was a slave in and around Rome. It was very costly, but brought with it lasting peace.

Over the next two hours their discussion of the situation changed dramatically. Several people came looking for Paddy and Gloria. Paddy went to the door to say that they would be out in a little while and would say no more. Gloria was up and about taking care of the baby, leaving Paddy to pace back and forth. Both he and Gloria were feeling restless due to the decisions that lay before them: a chance for peace.

The two boys remained secured to their chairs--a little safety for the twelve men and perhaps the safest for all of them. About thirty minutes after Paddy and Gloria had gone into the back room to discuss the issues before them, Paddy stepped out. "Alright, we are doing it. I am going to gather the other clan leaders and bring them here. If we can convince them, then we will walk you past the edge of town. No one should bother you then."

"And if you cannot convince them?" one of the twelve asked.

"Then I don't see any way to get you out of town alive."

Someone laughed uncomfortably at that.

### Chapter 33

Paddy had gone to get the other leaders. The two boys were finally free and enjoying their breakfast, which had the twelve intruders' mouths watering. Unfortunately, there was not enough food for them, as they were quite unexpected guests.

When Paddy entered with five other men, nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the windows were uncovered, leaving the room well lit and there was no one in sight. They all sat down around the table. "Now, do you mind telling us what this is about?"

Paddy did not respond; he was busy hanging sheepskins over the windows. Outside, he could see bystanders starting to gather, attempting to peer in.

"What are you doing, Paddy?"

"I intend to show you..."

Before Paddy could finish his sentence, one of the leaders retorted, "In the dark?"

With a sigh, he replied, "By the light of torches, old man."

Once the windows were sealed off from the spectators, and the light shut out from those inside, the leaders were encircled. While their eyes were still trying to adjust to the darkness someone struck a flint, its grating sound loud in the quiet darkness. As one passed his flame to another, the leaders realized that they were not alone and thought their eyes were deceiving them.

There was no denying it now. One of the leaders stood. "What is this, treachery?"

"Sit back down! These men are no longer enemies. They came to speak to me in the middle of the night, when they could have been slitting any of our throats. They know exactly where each one of us lives, thanks to that traitor we all know. They came to offer a peace treaty--a peace treaty that is based upon a peace child."

Paddy spent most of the morning taking them through the proposed idea, step by step. They all agreed that it seemed like a good idea, especially since Paddy was the one paying the price. The impassable gorge of bitterness looked to them as though it could possibly be bridged.

"Now," Paddy mumbled, pulling back the edge of the sheepskin to peer out, "to the matter of getting these men out safely." By this time, the house was surrounded by villagers; all crammed together as quiet as mice for want to hear what was being said within.

Two of the village elders stepped out of Paddy's front door. The multitude of people was now three or four rows deep--all staring intently, as if to pressure them into speaking. Although, the elders had not planned to speak, they realized it would make them look like hostages if they did not calmly defuse the situation which was about to unfurl.

"In a moment we will escort twelve new-found friends of ours to the forest just outside the gate," one of the leaders announced. There was a collective gasp as the twelve emerged from the house. Tieg's gaze swept over the crowd. Their faces told of bitterness--it would not be let go by mere words; but this was expected. It had taken almost two hours to convince the other leaders, who really had nothing to lose and their lives to gain. The large mob, on the other hand, held the position of superiority with no desire for peace.

Paddy and the other leaders realized that, with the information given of their locations, and the men having successfully infiltrated the village, they could all be dead. For that matter, they were still in a hostage situation. The leaders knew that the people would not accept the idea under these circumstances, when they felt no vulnerability and thought their enemies were almost done in. They would have to do this talk in another place, another time.

They all headed for the gate. The twelve mixed in amongst the clan leaders. They did not want to be on the outside for fear of arrows and spears, nor did they want to be on the inside for fear of the leaders running away. So taking a compromised position, they mixed it up. They felt more comfortable as the men invited more noncombatants, such as women and children, to walk along with them. None of the bitter adults would join, and the only children allowed to join were those with no one around to tell them not to. Now with five or six kids gathered around, they felt it would be a safer trip.

They got them through the gate and to the edge of the forest. "At noon, we will see you again," Paddy said, turning to grasp Tieg's arm. Tieg acknowledged Paddy and then the twelve men disappeared into the trees, wasting no time in getting home to tell their clan that a meeting was set.

As the clan leaders made their way back into the city, the crowd pressed them, demanding answers.

"Alright, we can explain everything to you, just let Paddy get through; he needs to go home." The masses parted and let Paddy pass. A silence fell over the assembly as they saw the sadness etched into Paddy's face. He was not holding his head down, nor his shoulders slumped, but pain burned brightly in his eyes and etched into the lines around them. The leaders took advantage of the silence to tell the people what was happening.

"At noon we will meet our life-long enemies on the battlefield; the very same battlefield in which we, ourselves, and those before us, have fought. Except this time there will be no bloodshed. You can still carry your swords; we know how insecure you would feel, and disagreeable you would be, without them. This time, though, our women and little ones will lead the way. They will be in the front."

"That is crazy," someone within the crowd exclaimed. "I am not sending my wife and little ones to the slaughter!"

"You speak only from bitterness. We have come to a peaceful resolution; a real one this time. It is unlike anything you have ever seen, and it will all be explained to you there."

Another leader added, "There, you will have a chance to hear and to speak. If you do not let your wives and little ones go, they will stay here alone. All of your leaders will be in front, unarmed, with our wives and little ones and any man who is willing to come bearing no arms."

"Five of our most trusted and levelheaded archers, along with five of their archers, will go ahead of us and stand at the bottom of the valley where the peace pact will take place. The space in between these two sets of archers will be the designated meeting place. If an armed man approaches the meeting place, he will be shot, without question, by one of the five archers from his own clan."

"By the archers of his own clan?" someone whispered, aghast.

"Not only will you die," the leader continued, "you will bring disgrace upon your family and the archers for shooting one of their own!"

The people were shocked. So much so, in fact, that no one replied, only stared. With a wave of his arms, the elder advised them, "Go eat, and rest, for in three hours, we will leave for the meeting ground. There you will see things you have never seen before, and, if you are willing, you will know peace the likes of which you have never known."

Even the most bitter and cynical of them agreed to hear this, knowing, though not admitting, that not even their hated enemies would attack or harm a group of women and children. No one in the entire village was without a considerable amount of curiosity. Indeed, the people were abuzz with the chatter of what was about to take place. Even the wife of the man who had spoken up so boldly about not allowing her at the forefront, was not about to miss out on what this was all about.

### Chapter 34

From a distance, the formation resembled a typical battlefield: on one hill gathered one clan; on the other hill, the other clan. This was like no conventional battlefield, however. For one thing, in between the clans, on the valley floor, stood ten archers. Additionally, the front lines consisted mostly of women. As if that wasn't odd enough, the men were not carrying swords or spears. They had no shields; instead, they carried their little ones in their arms.

And also atypically, the archers in the valley had their backs turned toward their enemies. Each set of five was facing their own clans. The majority of the people who were standing on each side had no idea what was going on. They only knew what they had heard, "You will see things you have never seen before."

Some figured it was some kind of a peace deal and they weren't entirely hopeful. These attempts at peace had never worked before. Being unable to conduct themselves in a civilized manner, the talks always ended up unsuccessful. The clans-people were, indeed, skeptical--and for good reason. They were fully aware of their inability to keep the requirements of any union.

Fights and disputes always occur between people within the same family, total strangers, you name it, but when a dispute happens between people of different clans and there is already a rift there, people polarize fast. They were completely cynical; curiosity was the only reason for their undivided attention.

The valley was too wide to shoot across. If someone tried to advance, there would be plenty of time to respond. This situation left them confident, with neither side willing to make concessions.

The valley was lush and green with trees at one end while the other end opened into a wide expanse with stones strewn over it. A small stream ambled along the valley floor dividing it. There were many bogs along the stream-bed. To cross, ancient people had made a path by filling the stream with flat stones. It was as wide as five men standing shoulder to shoulder. The five archers stood here, each facing his clan with bow and arrow at the ready. They would stand aside only for those involved in the process of peace.

It was a task finding five good, levelheaded archers. No one wanted to volunteer to possibly shoot his own clan members. As the time drew near, clan leaders had to appoint people. At least that way no one could blame them if they actually did have to shoot someone. They chose Jephthah for his now rather famous archery abilities and his responsible behavior, but they later decided to remove him, since he had no grasp of the language or culture. He might not know what was going on and could misinterpret something or understand too late. Therefore, he stood at the back, with the other armed men in Tieg's clan. Tieg, Ball, Bin and two others made up their clan's archers at the bridge. Brogan had another job.

Brogan was walking down the hill toward the gathering. This scene was very different from the norm, as well. Rather than having his sword drawn and charging as in days past, he was unarmed. His head hung low as he walked very slowly. His wife was beside him, dressed as a mourner. Holding their infant, she, too, trudged along, head down; one foot in front of the other, as though her feet were made of stone.

From the other side of the valley, coming to meet them, were Paddy and Gloria, the same terrible disease of sorrow seemed to afflict them.

The people were quiet, except for some curious whispers as they attempted to figure out what was happening. No one advised them to remain quiet; they were just trying to hear anything that would explain the situation which was unfolding in front of them. They had seen peace deals before, but that was not what held them in suspense. They had also seen women and children accompany the clansmen in attempts at treatises to curb any violence, but none of their previous knowledge helped in interpreting what was going on before them now.

Paddy and Brogan were the most respected leaders in their clans. All of the staging so far added up to the standard peace deal; but their attitudes were not right. The people had seen many peace agreements, all primarily handled with pride, with the leader acting as though he had the upper hand. He fought for what he could get from the deal. In this situation, not only one, but both of these leaders had their heads hung low and they seemed oblivious to their surroundings. This humble demeanor--this grieved countenance--was what held the people in silence, leaning forward, straining to see, straining to listen. It was only proof of what they had been told, "You will see something you have never seen before."

The five archers were evenly spaced across both sides of the bridge. Suited in helmets and armor, bow and arrow at the ready, they looked impenetrable. There was the assurance of certain death to anyone who tried to rush the other side. This intimidating human wall parted for the desolate couples as if they had some secret code.

The two couples met in the middle of the stone bridge. Brogan turned to his wife, Madelyn, and held out his hands for his child. She did not respond. He waited for a moment. And then, trembling, she held out the child, and he lifted it from her arms. She wept as she watched him embrace his child. Paddy attempted to mimic the same process. But when Gloria saw his hands trembling as they were, she would not give the child over. Instead, holding the baby up to him, in a soft and gentle tone, she bid him kiss the child. She watched as he leaned forward, lips trembling, to brush a kiss over the babe's cheek. The baby fussed a bit from his wind-chapped lips and coarse beard. Gloria chuckled, as a tear made its way down her cheek.

Gloria then started moving toward Madelyn, until the babe pressed against her chest, also rested on Madelyn's chest. They were face to face, with only the chubby baby separating them. Gloria produced a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears from Madelyn's face. "It will be alright. Do not worry about the child. We will do our very best to care for him; we will love him without measure."

It was as though a boulder lifted from Madelyn's shoulders to see that Gloria was so loving and compassionate. She wanted to reciprocate the confidence that Gloria instilled, but could find no words. The lump in her throat just did not permit speech. She struggled to swallow the lump and speak, but could not force it down. Throat aching, she could only give the appearance of appreciation; dropping her head forward she rested her forehead to Gloria's.

Gloria smiled. "It is okay, my dear. Your actions have spoken for you. When Brogan risked his life sneaking into our village and then offered his son, we knew not only that you were serious about peace, but that you would take good care of the child upon whom it all depends." Gloria stepped back; only now, the child that she'd clutched against her chest was snuggled against Madelyn's chest. She leaned over, murmured softly to the babe, and then turned to Brogan. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she held out her arms, and with a genuine smile on her face, asked, "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to this handsome lad?" Brogan chuckled, his face red from crying.

"This is our son. And when I say _our_ , I mean mine, Madelyn's, yours and Paddy's." Brogan placed the child in her arms. The two couples looked at one another wishing to say something, but there were no words powerful enough to express the thoughts and emotions of such a moment. Therefore, they just stared for a moment longer and then turned for their respective homes.

The crowd looked on in complete silence. Many mouths hung open as the ramifications of what had just happened began sinking in. There would be no arguing and bickering over the terms, the deal was final and peace was the only option. If disputes erupted between a group, or just two people of different clans, the line in the sand was easy to see. It is most convenient to take sides with the person who lives next to you, and things quickly escalate into war. That was not an option now. No one could rally the troops against their most respected leader's son. The people would have no choice but to work out their issues no matter what, and no matter how long it took. Peace would reign.

People on both sides of the valley stood astonished. They felt a mix of emotions as they stared out over the scene unable to speak. Eventually, some of them began to leave, but stopped when they saw three men making their way down the hill toward Gloria and Paddy. Their attention now recaptured, everyone was back in place. The three men walked around the couple and continued toward the bridge. Two of the men were armed. The two sets of archers were evenly spaced across both ends of the bridge again, bows at the ready. Obviously, they were waiting for this. The hands of the man in the middle were not visible. His head hung low and the two men on either side of him were watching him carefully. It seemed he was a prisoner. After a few minutes of whispering, even before they could reach the bridge, it had spread through the crowd who the prisoner was--the priest.

The five archers on that side of the bridge parted to let them pass. The two men lead him through stopping in the center of the bridge. The archers had already repositioned themselves. Both sets of archers were still facing the crowds with their backs to the three men in the middle. The two sentries wrestled the priest to his knees. One of them drew his sword, while the other pulled out a small scroll. The one with a sword positioned himself to decapitate the priest as the other began reading. "This man is here to die for the crimes he has committed. He is found guilty of instigating war between these two clans. Is there anyone who objects to his death?"

"I," came from behind the man who read the judgment. Surprised, he quickly turned; it was Tieg who spoke. "I do not object to his death," he said as he put his bow on the ground and came toward them. "There is one thing, though. He sold me into slavery. After that, he sold my wife who is with child. To whom, I do not know; I plan to go after her." He looked from the two henchmen and the prisoner to the crowd on the hill and spoke loudly enough for all to hear, "This man knows to whom he sold her and he also has the money with which I can buy her back. I would like to take him and get this information from him by any means possible, and then sell him to help pay for her. What say you?"

As he looked at Paddy's clan, there was some whispering for a few moments and then one of the leaders stepped out. "Take him and do with him as you please. In the morning, we will send a runner. He will carry all the money we can find from the prisoner's house. In addition, he will bring Brogan and Madelyn news of the welfare of their child. Let him see Paddy's child, so he can bring Paddy news."

"Yes, this is good. Thank you," Tieg nodded. Then he turned to the two guards for his prisoner.

"His hands are tied," the man with the scroll told him. The other stood with his sword poised, still eager to decapitate the priest. Tieg looked at him and then back to the man holding the scroll, with a look of concern upon his face. The sentry turned to see what Tieg was looking at, and fumbled his parchment as he shouted. "Gobnet! Do not kill him! They said to give him to Tieg."

"I know! I heard them." Gobnet replied angrily as he reluctantly lowered his sword. The priest let out a large breath, but was still fearfully studying Gobnet who was only very slowly backing away now.

### Chapter 35

Early the next morning, a messenger arrived at their village. "I need to speak to Tieg and Brogan." Brogan had awakened at daylight and had been watching for him.

"I am Brogan. Come with me; you can see Paddy's child, and my wife will want to hear of your news." He had a long visit with them and promised to do the same the next week, since it was forbidden for them to see their child until the day of his wedding. After that time, all restraint will cease, but until then, they would rely upon messengers to bring them news of their child.

Brogan and Madelyn walked with the messenger from their tent to where Tieg was. By the time they reached Tieg, they were laughing--glad to hear a favorable report from Paddy and Gloria, and glad to be able to send them one, as well. The peace between the clans added pleasure to them and to everyone. People put so much faith in this new treaty, that there were no longer any guards on duty night or day. People in Paddy's clan began making plans to move out of the crowded village and into the countryside, while people in Brogan's village were now building homes instead of walls.

They found Tieg standing beneath an old tree. The messenger presented him with a bag of money. "This is all of his gold and silver, plus the gold and silver we raised from selling his things. I do not know what the priest told you, but the people he sold your wife to sailed from Syria, and looked very civilized and sophisticated--unlike your usual pirates. The priest was the one who set all of it up, but I asked everyone I could in order to get all information possible about your wife. I thought he may lie to you, so I wanted to give you an upper hand, or at least some information you can be sure of."

"Thank you," Tieg replied. "I know that the clans are not welcoming each other yet, as you have experienced plenty of bitterness this morning just walking through the village, but do not let that discourage you. Please keep the messages coming and going between Paddy's and Brogan's families."

Tieg, along with Brogan and his family, insisted upon walking with the messenger to the outskirts of the village, past all of the dirty looks. The clans were happy about peace, but not about each other.

Madelyn invited Tieg to share their midday meal, during which they discussed a future that they hoped they would all share upon Tieg's return. After a simple meal of lamb and cakes, Tieg rose from the woolen hides that Madelyn had spread over the floor of their makeshift structure. "I must go and relieve the last of the guards." In fear of John slipping away to the ship and sailing away during the clans' discussion, Tieg had put two trusted men at his side. Tieg hugged Brogan goodbye, refusing to let in the thought that he would soon journey far and long, with the possibility of never seeing these friends again. "I love all of you."

Brogan returned his hug, and with a voice from a painfully tightened throat, replied, "Thank you. I know that we all played a part on that ship, but you were the first one through the hatch, unarmed." They embraced a last time and as Tieg turned away, Brogan stopped him with a hand upon his shoulder. "I really wish you would reconsider and let me go with you."

Tieg just smiled, and then bent to hug Madelyn, brushing a kiss on her cheek. "No, I shouldn't need you, and everyone here will need you for certain."

On his way back to John, Tieg wondered if he would find him. He pushed the thought from his mind reasoning that, if something had happened someone would have come and told him.

As he came into the small clearing where they had been camped, he spotted John eating a bowl of soup with the guards diligently watching as though he were a dangerous criminal about to escape. "Hi, John, you ready to head back to your home?"

"Yes, as soon as I finish this soup."

"No hurry, I will be back in a moment. I want to ask Jephthah if he has decided to stay or leave."

He found Jephthah at the edge of the woods. "How did I know I would find you here with a bow and arrow in hand?" he chuckled.

Jephthah ignored his question and shot another arrow into a bundle of straw.

"Have you decided whether you want to go with me or stay here?" he asked.

Jephthah continued to ignore him and shot another arrow into the pile of straw. This time Tieg did not try for another answer. Seeing an extra bow propped against a nearby rock, he walked over and retrieved it. He tested its tautness. As he made his way back, Jephthah spoke up, "You think I do not practice enough with the sword don't you?"

Tieg did not reply. Jephthah gave him a couple of arrows, then reached back into his quiver and withdrew six more. "You think you can get two arrows into the middle of that straw before I can get six into it?" he asked.

Tieg knew Jephthah had an uncanny talent with a bow and was quite fast. He also knew that he had spent entire days practicing, but he was not aware of anyone who could get six arrows into the target that quickly or of anyway to do so.

"I know not to take another man's bet, but I am no beginner with a bow. If you think that I will not be able to hit the center of that straw both times, you are wrong."

Jephthah took his time in answering just to show his calm and to demonstrate that he owned the situation. In contrast, Tieg's speech was faster and unfocused, as he was trying to figure out what was going on.

"Whenever you get through speculating, I am ready to shoot," Jephthah said.

John having just arrived upon the scene overheard and laughed.

Tieg replied, "Alright, you are on. When I send my second arrow through the middle of that bag of straw, do you want me to count the rest of yours out loud or to myself?" Tieg asked with a big smile. John got another good chuckle out of that.

Jephthah kept his composure, answering simply with, "John can just say, go."

It is hard to say what happened next. John, enjoying himself immensely, shouted, "Go!" and both men were as fast as lightning, firing their first arrow. Tieg, who had propped his second arrow against his leg, had just reached down and grabbed it when this story becomes hard to explain. Jephthah held his other five arrows in his left hand, the same hand in which he gripped the wood of his bow. With two fingers sticking out off the right side of the bow's handle, he held each arrow oriented perfectly, which enabled him to quickly and fluidly grab a new one upon the pull back after each release. As he released the string repeatedly, his hand flew forward as quickly as the string to snag the next arrow produced by his left hand. Thus, he was able to notch and pull it back before the string had even finished vibrating. He was firing so quickly that there were three of his arrows airborne at once, all striking the center of the straw. This sent John into a fit of roaring laughter. The look on Tieg's face was even more humorous to John than his own amazement.

Tieg was without words for a while. Finally, he said, "I just don't know what to say. I have never seen anything like that." He then added dryly, "but you still need to practice with the sword!"

Jephthah laughed now. "You are never ceasing!" He propped his bow against a stone and unsheathed his sword. "Maybe I need to show you a few things with a sword also!" he said with confidence.

Laughing, Tieg drew his, as well. "Teach me something then!" With swords clashing, Tieg conversed, "I will never undervalue your archery skills. They may be invaluable one day and there is no doubt they will be helpful." He dodged Jephthah's downward swipe, then quickly rounding on him, hit Jephthah's blade with the flattened part of his own and popped the sword from his hand. With a flick, he caught it in his left hand and then continued his lecture. "The most important thing is living to see tomorrow. The sword is a more defensive weapon, and you also need it to go with your archery skills. But most importantly, you need to master using your mind, then practice with someone an hour each day."

Jephthah nodded. "What about you? Will you spar with me?"

"That would depend upon your answer to my first question."

"Yes, I do want to go. There is a town in the Mediterranean that we will need to stop at to get supplies. I would like to ask some questions and look around there. I would also like to help you in appreciation of your freeing me. Besides all of that, who better to learn the sword from than you? An hour a day, right?"

As they headed for the ship, Tieg clapped Jephthah on the shoulder, "Actually, on the ship, we will have a lot of time on our hands."

"Well John, do you think the ship is still there?" Tieg asked.

"Yeah, there is no way he could even get it turned around by himself."

"That reminds me; I owe you an apology for your being treated as a prisoner. You knew I had no money to pay you, and you had no way of knowing I would ever come up with any. With the ship as your prize if you ditched me... well I hope you can see why I did what I did."

John shrugged in indifference. "Yes, I understand."

"After all," Tieg continued, "we both may be honest men, but we have no way of knowing that of each other."

Jephthah broke in, "Speaking of that 'honest men' statement, I have asked a few people and found nothing about all of that 'victorious fighters of Ireland,' or whatever you called yourselves while in shackles and in need of my help aboard the ship."

A long silence ensued. "Well, Jephthah," Tieg began. Then he paused for lack of explanation. He let the silence drag on hoping Jephthah would let the subject drop. But when he looked over and saw only seriousness and his anticipation of an answer, he knew he was not finished.

"As children, we like to think that things are simple--simply bad, simply good. Take the good captain, for example, whom we mockingly call 'good.' A childhood view of him is that he would have been completely evil, never capable of a single good or kind act. While, on the other hand, you, being somewhat fond of me, may think that I am incapable of bad, like lying to you. The truth is, even the captain did 'good' at times, and everybody does 'bad' at times. You have been a slave all of your life, and, having been out at sea, you were isolated from making some of these observations. Which is why I am not just telling you that I lied to you, I am telling you that anyone will lie to you."

Jephthah looked puzzled. "So how do you know when someone is bad or good?"

"That is easy: they are bad. They have done bad, they will do bad; we are bad; you can only trust some people in some situations. There is no one you can always trust, at least no human."

"No, that is not true, it is more complicated than that," Jephthah replied sounding quite irritated. "There is a big difference between me and that captain."

"That is not even what I am talking about; do not let your hatred of the captain interfere with your observations."

### Chapter 36

They could see the boat now, tucked into the little cove just as they had left it. Tieg let out a breath; thankful she was still there. As they broke into the clearing, the man aboard ship hailed them, and lowered the life raft.

With minimal effort, they got the ship turned around and headed for the mouth of the bay. Tieg paid the sailors for their time thus far, and they set sail for Syria. No one came from the other clan, unless, you count the prisoner. Ball was the only one who had come along from Tieg's clan.

"Ball, I don't know that I could do this without your help; John and his friend cannot be counted upon to help in an attack from pirates, which just leaves three of us, an inadequate defense at best. Watching for pirates is going to be our biggest task. You have got to promise me that you will be careful--no big risks. If something happened to you, how would I ever tell Maggie? We will always consider you family and you will always have a home with us."

Unembarrassed, Ball wiped at his eyes. "Thank you. I will try to be careful. What is our plan anyway? What are we going to do?"

Tieg rested himself against the railing. Looking out, he tried to imagine what lay ahead. "We, my young friend, are going to sail right into Syria."

### Chapter 37

They sailed night and day. Everyone slept on deck, except for the prisoner, who was secured in the hole. They took two-hour shifts throughout the night, with one at the helm and one on the lookout and working the rigging. During the day, Tieg and Ball fenced with Jephthah using sticks and swords.

Early one morning, Tieg and Jephthah were 'sticking it up,' when Tieg said, "Jephthah, I have been doing some thinking about your question." He quickly ducked a windmill swing from Jephthah. "I think that what you really want to know is, how to tell when you can trust someone and when you cannot."

"You can tell me this?" Jephthah lunged forward and took a jab at Tieg.

Tieg blocked and stepped aside. He pushed Jephthah off balance and stung him on the neck with a sound pop. "I can tell you what you need to know."

Jephthah was rubbing his neck. "What is that?"

"Based on what we said earlier, there are two things you have to know. One is that while some people can be trusted in most situations, there is no one on earth who can be trusted in every situation--no one. The second is that there is no one who cannot be trusted in some situations. If there is enough in it for them, most people can be trusted. You just have to figure out who can be trusted in what situation."

"That sounds impossible!"

"It is impossible to get it right every time."

Tieg showed Jephthah what he was doing wrong with his fencing and then they began to practice some simple moves. "It is not as hard as you may think," he said.

"Yes, I think I am getting it."

"No, I mean, knowing when to trust someone. You just take all that you know about the character of a person and compare it to two things: what is in it for them and how much risk will they have to take? The higher the risk, and lower the reward, the less likely it is that you can trust someone. Take John for example; the night we escaped, he faced certain death if he tried something, but knew that he could possibly save his life if he did not. The rewards were not there, but the risk was enormous. That was enough for John. The other sailor had looked like he was about to jump overboard. I told him he would be a free man and paid well. The rewards began to increase the odds that I could trust him and John."

And then, changing the subject, Tieg said, "You have mastered these moves well. Go and ask Ball to show you a couple of new ones. Practice them with him for an hour and then come see me. We will put it all together in a duel."

Tieg made Jephthah exempt from most of the work on the ship, so he could practice with the sword. But he always made time for his true love--the bow and arrow.

Late that night, Tieg and John were on shift together--John at the helm and Tieg working the sails and looking the deck over.

"You looking for something?" John asked.

"Yeah," said Tieg. "I was trying to see if I had overlooked the oil pots with the arrows to light and shoot."

John chuckled a bit nervously. "Who has been telling you about that?"

Tieg took a seat next to John, and, with a sigh, said, "I have been reading the captain's memoirs and was struck with some serious concern. Does the _Impaled Lady_ ring any bells for you?"

Again, John merely chuckled. And then he asked, "What does the captain have to say about the _Impaled Lady_?"

Tieg smiled this time. "Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"I was just wondering what you know so that I do not repeat what you already know."

"I do not know much of anything. The captain did not write much about what happened, just some plans for the oil pots and arrows with the title _Impaled Lady_.

John's gaze searched the sea before he answered. "Well, let me start from the beginning," he said. "The _Impaled Lady_ is a ship. She got the name from the carved statue off the bow. Legend has it that a very wealthy man hired foreign people to build him the fastest ship to ever sail the water. He took it to Rome and had an artist carve a wooden angel upon the bow to overlook the sea. She looked down upon the sea in continual prayer for the ship's safe journey. However, the criminals that occupy it today stole it from the harbor, killing the artist and the owner. They modified the carving, defining the pole that attaches her to the ship, making her appear impaled; they also changed her facial expression to one of agony. The pirates that own that ship are merciless and evil. The ship is light, carrying almost no supplies, the crew feeding off its victims.

They are undefeatable. Its twenty men are well trained and fighting for their lives, with practically no supplies aboard. If they do not kill, they do not eat. The story has it that if you do not look like you can bring top price at a slave market, or if they are just not going in that direction, then they impale you and hang you over the side to sun-dry. If they see another ship, they cut you off and pursue. However, if no other ships are around, they feed on you. There are slaves who were bought to market who claim that half of their crew was eaten before they made it to market."

"That sounds like a lot of legend to me, John," Tieg replied, not wanting to believe that such a thing would ever happen.

With a shrug, John answered, "You believe what you like. As for me, I believe; let me tell you why. One day, foggy as all get out, we were trying to find our way to the Straits of Gibraltar. We were coming up the coast of Africa loaded with grain. We saw a ship to starboard, toward the land. It caught our attention because it had a carving off the bow. As it came into view, our stomachs dropped. The carving was an impaled lady, her face telling of agony. That was not even the most horrible; we saw four bodies, impaled upon long poles off the side of the ship."

John continued, "We should have been scrambling trying to get out of there, but we were dumbfounded, standing there with our mouths gaped open. I gasped a few times in trying to tell the captain something. But at that moment, there were shouts from that ship and the sound of running feet upon the deck. We heard a chop, splash, a body hit the water, followed by three more. Their sails billowed up, snapped full, and the impaled lady herself swung around pointing straight in our direction. I looked around and the men aboard my own ship had gone from white men to pale ghosts; urine ran across the floorboards.

"We finally came to our senses, and, knowing our lives depended on it, flew to get the ship to full sail; but we knew they were covering twice the distance that we could, loaded as we were. We threw all of our grain overboard, hoping we would start to lose them, but to no avail. They were closing in fast."

Visibly shaken now, John struggled on with the dire tale, "There was a thick fog ahead, and the Straits of Gibraltar. The crew on the other ship thought for sure that, once we were in the fog, we would go right for the Straits. We even heard the captain shout for starboard. But, once we were enshrouded in the fog, we went hard to port side and out to sea. They fell for it and went through the Straits. We were afraid to go back, so we went on to Spain, picking up pots of oil and arrows."

"Where are they now?" Tieg asked.

Smiling at Tieg's look of concern, John replied, "The Romans finally sent a fleet out after them. The story has it that they surrounded the _Impaled Lady_ and the commander sent a raft over with instruction to fill it with as much gold as possible. If it was enough, they would be allowed to live. The raft returned with two enormous chests full of gold, creamy topazes, fiery winking rubies and cool emeralds, to purchase the lives of those sailing the _Impaled Lady_. The commander's men retrieved the raft in astonishment. As soon as the commander saw the treasure secured, he signaled his fleet, and a thousand flaming arrows rained down upon the _Impaled Lady_. The survivors that jumped into the water were target practice until there were none left."

Continuing, John said, "We thought it would be a good idea to keep the oil around in case of other attacks, and we intended to. But on occasions when we ran out of fuel for a fire, we used it to cook with--a little here and a little there. The next thing you know, we were out and never got around to replacing it. That old cook, the one you killed," John said with a disappointed look, "could sure cook!"

"You don't mean to say that you are not enjoying our Irish food, do you, John?"

"Ah, what is not to like about tubers," John replied drily.

"I am still concerned. Do you think that we should try to go to Spain to get oil and arrows?"

"There are no good trade ports along Spain. We looked for months for the supplies that we needed and found none, even with having someone who spoke their language. We eventually hired a guide and ended up miles back in the forest before we found someone selling the flammable oil that we needed. Besides all of that, the Romans are supposed to have pirating under control."

"You are a pirate," Tieg said.

"We were merchants. We occasionally took advantage of slower boats that had small crews."

"That would be the exact definition of pirate in my book--just not a very rich one."

Resigned, John sighed. "I guess we were. You know I am not much of a fighter, though. I am just a sailor."

Tieg felt no comfort in the idea that the Romans were attempting to control pirating, but the thought of all the time he would waste attempting to find the supplies that they needed in order to fight off pirates made his chest tighten with anxiety. He knew he was already a month behind the ship that he sought. A delay like that would torture him with anxiety. "Let us hope the Romans really did clean up," Tieg said, looking away, trying to forget the whole bit.

"We have been through here many times since then with no problems," John said. That did soothe Tieg's sense of uneasiness, and push the dreaded thoughts from his mind.

A few days later, Ball and Jephthah were sticking it up on the deck. Tieg was sleeping, exhausted from the night shift, when he was awakened by a yell. "The Straits! The Straits of Gibraltar!"

Popping up, Tieg saw John at the helm and the other sailor running about and shouting. "Happy to be going home are you?" Tieg mumbled to himself. "Something tells me that I will be hiring new crew members when we stop to get supplies." Then, after looking at John and the now dancing sailor, he laid back down.

Rubbing his eyes, Tieg asked John, "How long do you think until we are in it?"

"We will be there by tonight."

"The Rock of Gibraltar, some supplies, then Syria," Tieg said to himself as he reclined back into his hammock. Taking in a deep breath, the air was so cool, crisp, and fresh, it felt as though it could relieve many troubles.

THE END OF BOOK ONE

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