Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2) by Donald D. Allan

Author:Donald D. Allan
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Magic, Druids, Gaea
Publisher: Copper Penny Publishing
Published: 2016-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Two

On the Road to Jaipers, 900 A.C.

GENERAL BRENT BAIRSTOW urged his horse to move to the side of the road and allowed the animal its head so it could graze at the grass that grew thick where the road, the stone bridge, and the river all met. He turned his head to watch his men slowly make their way along the road. His own men in the first cart nearest him were laughing at some jest and pointing to an Army regular who plodded along on his horse near them. The poor fellow had suffered miserably over the past week. His arse was a seething mass of blisters after the idiot had wiped himself with poison oak leaves. It had spread all up his hands, arms, and chest. Even from where he sat on his horse, Brent could see it creeping up the man's neck.

What's his bloody name? he thought furiously. I can't keep these Army types names straight in my head. Oh, right, Private William David, the man with two first names. Or, was it David Williams?

Brent watched as the man scratched furiously under his tunic and then turned his head to bark something at the men on the cart; which led to them laughing all the harder. The Army sergeant — Henson was his name, Brent remembered, pleased to recall it much more quickly this time — rode up hard beside the cart and, with excellent aim and timing, managed to whip one of the cart riders on the back of the head with his riding crop. Brent winced when the sound of the strike carried to him in the still air.

"Quit yer laughin', ya dunderhead!" barked the sergeant.

By now the poor fellow was visibly cursing and rubbing his head with a hand before peering at it for signs of blood. He held his hand out for the sergeant to see and so, no doubt, the sergeant had drawn blood. Brent clenched his teeth. That was abusive, he thought. I'll have to have words with the sergeant in private.

"Show yer mother the blood, I dinna care," spat the sergeant as he wheeled his horse back to the road. "One more word from you and its jacks detail for a week."

Brent could see the grimace on the face of the struck man but kept his expression clear. He was sorely disappointed in his Guard. They were too quick to quarrel with the Army men and both sergeants were having a hard time keeping them disciplined and off each other's throats. The past two weeks had been particularly difficult. Thank God, Frederick made me ride all those times. And then, thinking of his brother Frederick Bairstow, the Knight General of the Army of the Realm, he once again wished he knew what difficulties he faced in the capital of Munsten and prayed to God he would be all right.

Brent waited and watched as the carts and men on horseback moved past him in line. A few of the men nodded in some semblance of respect to him but it was paltry.

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