The day passed slowly as Thomas mulled over the plan to approach the Red Tower. The band of brigands gambled with dice and farted or slept-except for the blonde foreigner. He was silent yet thinking-that much Thomas could read and this made Thomas stay awake for any betrayal. The blonde man was known by a nickname none would address him with directly-for fear. His name was Straw Beard. Now even as Thomas' thought about this man, Straw Beard uncannily picked the moment to draw his sword from under his wolfskin blanket and began honing the edges with a whetstone.
The birds were aloft and looking to roost- dusk would soon descend and the time for Thomas to ride to meet his sister and whatever fate the master of the Red Tower would decide.
The golden spiked flagpole at the top of the tower caught the last rays of the setting sun. There was no wind to stir the banner-this was good for a longbowman-arrows would fly straight and faster in still cool air.
Thomas held Angel-his name for his war bow- the fletches were gathered on his waist in a loop and more in his quiver. Geraint and Turlock wished him luck as he cantered off toward the tower. it was at that instant Thomas glimpsed a figure riding parallel from inside the cover of the treeline to his right. It was Straw Beard.
Thomas knew this was Geraint's orders- either a planned betrayal or a genuine concern for his future brother in law,, only time would tell.
Geraint and Turlock watched Thomas disappear before they conspired. The attack would begin at moonrise when the disc was one width clear of the mountain ridge.
Thomas had a sick stomach as the tower now loomed. It was bigger , far taller and imposing than he had imagined. Now he understood both the appeal to become its master and the reason the tower's defences were not easily breached by a mere band of ill disciplined villains led by Geraint.
A light breeze whisked up.Atop the turret the banner now stirred for some seconds-a black field with a red dragon. Indeed, the land about and the castle itself was worthy of a dragon's lair. Thomas checked his dagger and his bow for comfort. Now he could see movement atop the single wooden gate which was easily the height of ten men. Three armed guards ran across to take a firing position. Thomas drew up his reins and stopped short of their range-this he knew by the size of their bows.
He shouted a welcome and for shelter.There was a silence.He shouted again but the answer was unexpected. A flurry of arrows swished past his head-too close for a warning alone and moreover, too close for an average bowman to have made. he span round to put thirty yards of safe ground between him and the fall of the next volley.
He dismounted quickly and held up both hands in a show of surrender.
The sound of a gate being opened was followed by a single rider- armed with a lance and shield. now as he stood defenceless, he could see a line of figures atop the walls.
The rider galloped directly at him with lance lowered. Thomas glanced about in case Straw Beard was at his wing. His death would be swift if nothing else-for he had seen many cut down like this in France. The power of the lance at gallop was a terrible weapon that disembowled horse and man without pity.
Now his sole defender in so many battles was limp at his side, his longbow,Angel, could not be drawn and fired in time.
