There was a wooden bar in the middle that served as a handle, so that a man could carry it with two hands at once. Oliver tested the weight, and they were definitely unwieldy bits of wood. Not the sort of thing anyone would want to carry for a while. They were at least twice as thick as the shields he had seen from the Yarmdon, but that was exactly the sort of thing that he needed.
They couldn't be allowed a chance of punching them through.
"Alright," Oliver said, nodding his approval. "I will call on you again, Tjorn. For now, make more of these, and build so poles to support them standing by themselves, if you can."
"No problem at all, Captain. There's more than enough wood. We can build whatever we need as long as it's simple. I just worry that our speed won't et yer expectations," Tjorn said.
"So far, you're exceeding them," Oliver said. "Keep it up."
The next man on his agenda was Northman. He was in charge of the first scouting mission, and was already preparing to head off.
"Northman," Oliver called out to him. "Have you seen what Tjorn has been up to?"
"I have," Northman said. "So ridiculously big shields from what I can tell. They'll at least get us closer to the wall, if that's your plan."
"Take them," Oliver said. "One to each man."
"Oh, they'll make for unwieldy riding," Northman said. "I appreciate the idea, Captain, but even with one of those, I don't think we'll want to be riding too close to that wall."
"No need. Deposit them just on the edge of the archer's range. Make a big pile out of them, I care not, just make sure that they're there," Oliver said.
"That's it?" Northman asked, raising an eyebrow. "Another roundabout task, if I have to say… but I'll see it done, Captain."
Oliver watched as the cavalryn went to collect their shields, wearing strange looks on their faces, as though they couldn't believe quite what they were doing. More than a few grunted as they picked the things up. To carry them in one hand, many needed for them to be handed to them after they'd gotten into the saddle.
Nevertheless, the scouting party was sent safely away, this ti carrying their hunks of wood.
"So, this is it, is it?" Nila asked. She'd been watching the entire process alongside Oliver. "Is this where we start to draw them out?"
"It is," Oliver agreed. 'Hopefully', he added in silence. It was about the only option that they had. They needed so way of getting into the enemy archer's range, after all. Dancing around on the edge of the hill was one thing, but before long they'd need to start setting down sothing more permanent, and this was an option only afforded to them because of the cavalry that they'd stolen.
Of course, the sa might have been accomplished without cavalry, but it would have taken a significant degree more effort, and been harder to defend.
When Northman switched with Cormrant for the second scouting mission of the day, there were more shields to go with them. Cormrant looked as sceptical as the Commander had, but he did what he was told nonetheless.
With the contribution of the two, a pile was visibly beginning to form at the base of the hill. Oliver could see it from their encampnt, and he knew that the enemy could also see it, and they would likely be asking the sa questions that most of Oliver's own n were.
After another day of battling hard, the slaves seed to be in much the sa position that they were in yesterday. Whatever progress might have been happening wasn't obvious. They continued to press back on their attackers, only to eventually be overrun. The defeats were starting to mount, and the n were starting to look despondent.
There were only so many defeats that a man could take before he lost interest. Here ought to have been when Oliver intervened, but the evening was already beginning to arrive, and he had another plan to add to.
This ti, his group mounted up with bows slung over their shoulders, and the arrows to go with them. It was a bold look. The closest that they'd gotten to an all-out attack since the first day.
The other thing that they carried seed a good deal stranger than the bows – a simple length of wood. It could have been called a club, or a spear, but it lacked much that might have made it look damaging.
It was simply a thick stick, of the sort one might find on the ground, only these had been cut to a uniform length and one end had been sharpened to a stakelike point, but even that point didn't look threatening enough to kill a man.
Every one of their party was handed one of these strange sticks, from Blackthorn to Verdant to the most lowly of soldiers that rode amongst them. Rather than confusion – though confusion was still present – there was a palpable air of excitent amongst them, as they figured – quite rightly – that sothing was about to happen.
Verdant made a comnt on his excitent, which Blackthorn promptly echoed, whilst Nila frowned at the stick, surprised by its weight. Before anyone could really properly co to terms with what their mission entailed, they were already hurtling off down the forest hill, and towards the hill that held the fort.
They seed about to go in a loop, just as they had on the day before, but here, next to the pile of wooden shields they stopped.
Oliver dismounted first, and the others hurried to copy him. Nearly half their n were needed to keep the horses tended – two reins held for each man – but Oliver didn't exactly need numbers.
"Throw them down, where you want," Oliver said, speaking of the stakes. The n promptly made a pile next to the wooden shields. There were a good few shields by now, enough to make sothing out of.
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