Have you ever filled a jug with vinegar and natron? You should try it. Pour in a lot of vinegar, about two-thirds of the jug, and then dump in a hand full of natron, put on the lid, and watch. Oh, and remember to stand back about twenty heads. The jug will sit for a little while, and then, most likely, start to rock, and the top will shoot off into the air, which of course delights the eyes. Or, even better, the lid is hammered on so tight that it can’t go up, and the sides go out instead, shattering everywhere.
That’s what it was like when we got home, the day after we saw the army of the Duke. I couldn’t tell the village what was coming. I’d seen violence, and my father had seen it, and warned me of the Duke. The Duke takes it to its worse form.
But, the news was important, and none of the others in my family would keep the secret.
“Gervaise,” I said before we got to our house, “Every day, I want you to go out and check on the army’s progress. I want you to tell me how far they’ve gone, and how long until they are here, all right? And remember, we are not going to tell anyone. When you go, you’re going “hunting,” and might want to bring something back. What we saw must have been somewhere about the middle of the column. Tomorrow, the first time you scout their progress, it may take you all day. After that, you should only take until noonday. You’ll leave before breakfast, shoot something and leave it outside the village, tramp out, check on their progress, snoop around to see if there’s anything changing, and get back here.”
“But, Edmund,” he said, “why don’t you tell everyone now, so that you don’t have to do all this?”
“Look, Gervaise,” I said cooly, “I will not tell them that a raiding party is approaching. They’d arm, and try to fight it. You saw how many there were. Just the men we saw while we were there would be more than we could gather in the time we have. Fighting is not the answer.”
“So lying is?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lying and saying that nothing is wrong, while having me ‘hunt’ and look at a massive army rumbling towards us.”
“Since when did you become a theology student?” Truth be told, he’d avoided any chance to talk to the priests, preferring an “education” from the docks. “I’m only doing what’s right.”
“You’re gonna make the village mad, violently mad. I think that’s kind of important. Besides, since when are you a genius yourself?”
“I studied under Prior Augustine. He taught me like the monks, and one of the things he taught was that there is a time for everything: a time to fight, and more importantly a time not to fight,” I emphasized.
“Look, Ed, if you say that you shouldn't tell people about the army, because the men will fight and get killed, you’re assuming that we don’t have a chance, that there isn’t Heaven on our side?” his voice trailed off, for he wasn’t sure what to say next.
“But God doesn’t always work in the world! We must not fight in any way,” I said.
“True, Ed, but we should do what’s right. Father had much standing in the village, and you do, too. You can probably persuade them not to fight, but to either disappear into the forest and hide forever, or peacefully give up what the Duke wants.”
“Possibly,” I said, dubious, “But I am doing what I think is best.”
“You know it’s lying.”
“The monks taught ‘Do not bear false witness against your neighbor.’ I am not against them.”
“Yes, but you don’t think that it’ll be against them when you say: ‘Hi! You have two days until a three thousand man plus raiding force crashes through here! How are you doing today, Farmer Sheaves?’” Gervaise returned.
“First off, don’t mention Sheaves’ cursed name while you’re in our father’s house. Second, My decision is made.”
“Yes, Ed. Of course I’d do what you said,” he said, “I’ll obey the one whom Father left in charge.”
“Good. Didn’t think you would, with the way you sounded, all stubborn like normal,” I joked.
“You!” he said angrily, completely missing the tease in my voice.
I interrupted, “Gervaise. We’re almost home… time to start the act.”
He fell silent.
Suddenly, as we crested the hill above the house, I realized that I had nothing to show for what was supposed to be a two day hunt, and no excuse for coming back without something. All I had was a bag of crossbows: large, mysterious, and absolutely certain to provoke questions.
We walked towards the house. I had always wondered how it felt for a criminal walking to his execution. Now I knew. I walked through the brush towards the house, going around the wood pile, listening (I couldn’t help but exaggerate and think: ‘for the last time’) to birds chirping in the forest. I started to walk into the house.
“Look at you two!” My twin sister Kylee said. She saw us walk through the door, and was astounded at the sight: both of us very dirty-not too unusual, but she still hated it-cut up, I had blood on me, and my only tunic was badly torn. “What did you do this time? I hope you have a big cut of deer in that bag. Let’s see,” she said, her voice distinctly hopeful, and a bit hungry.
I felt instantly guilty: this was the only chance for good food we ever got, unless we were to buy Sheaves’ perpetually overpriced grain.
“No, you can’t see what’s in the bag,” I said, mind churning for an excuse.
“So, you won’t let us see what’s in the bag. What is it then, that you’re so secretive over? Stolen something, no doubt, you two young rapscallions!” She had a twinkle in her eye, and smiled prettily as she said it, but had still a tint of seriousness.
“I am older than you,” I mentioned off hand, getting into the jesting mood and hoping it would steer her off the bag.
“We’ve been best friends and siblings for way too long. I know what you’re doing. But I can’t believe you! It’s so hard on a poor housekeeper’s soul! We’re near paupers already, and you go and tear up your only tunic, after you tore that other one. Hunting, too,” she noted.
My second-to-youngest brother Troy walked up and asked, “Where’s the deer you caught, Edmund? You always catch a big deer. Did you already leave it at the smoke house?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, he didn’t bring home anything except a mysterious, untouchable bag,” Kylee again, her smile growing wider, and jest deeper, just as I had always known her to do. I was surprised she didn’t burst out laughing. “We all should observe the proper reverence for such a holy bag as this, which we ‘lowly commoners’ cannot look into, for fear of death by ‘holiness.’”
“Do ye question my authority?” I said, with all the accent of an aristocrat I could manage, trying to change the subject from her impertinence and the bag of crossbows.
“Look, I am your housekeeper, and more importantly, your sister, the eldest girl. I have been your friend, too, for longer even than old Brett Carpenter. And you and he have been closer friends than any I can think of, for longer than I can remember. So someone has to look out for the children, whilst you traipse about the forest, skipping with your…” she stifled a giggle, “‘holy bag!’ I should know!”
“I have my own good reason for not letting you see the bag,” I said.
“I should know, as I was trying to say. What are you keeping me in the dark from?”
I struggled for a long moment, because there weren’t a lot of good excuses. Perhaps I could call it a surprise…? Exactly, I decided, the thing to—
“The Duke’s coming!” Gervaise apparently just couldn’t help himself any longer and blurted it out.
“The Duke?” asked Troy, staring up with wide eyes and a distinct lack of terror.
“Quiet,” said Kylee. “Go back to your room.” When he had gone, she turned to me, with a questioning, but at the same time, knowing look. “The Duke of Tarlaan is sending a raid?”
“How come she knew who the Duke was, and I didn’t?” asked Gervaise.
“Yes,” I answered Kylee, ignoring Gervaise.
“Why didn’t you want to tell us?” Kylee asked.
“Because I don’t want the village to fight.”
“Our father successfully beat off a half dozen raiding parties while he was alive. Why can’t you?”
“This is no raiding party, Ky. This is a full blown raiding army, which means to sweep the whole north of Ainrar, not just a village on the outskirts. We can’t fight it.”
“How did you get close enough to see this many soldiers?”
“We crawled up, when they were crossing a bridge, and I was able to count at least two hundred, before we were stopped.”
“Stopped?”
“The raid had scouts… which means it’s well-prepared.”
“How are you here now, then?” She placed both hands on her hips, and growled a little bit. I’d forgotten how intimidating she could be.
“We ran.”
“They let you get away?” she countered.
“Not exactly, Ky.”
“So you fought?” Her voice quivered with excitement. “You fought them? What was it like?”
“Something you don’t need to know about. It’s dangerous, and I would not wish you to be cut off before your time.”
“I can do my part. I shoot just as straight as you.” She didn’t accuse me, but stated a slightly altered fact.
“The knight’s code says that knights are to protect women and keep all of them safe. What is the use off attaching “Sir” in front of your name if you are not doing good?”
“But you aren’t a knight,” Troy said bluntly, sticking his face out from behind his listening spot on the other side of the hut. Kylee cringed for a second. I tried to remain calm.
“All men should follow the code. It is a good standard, though not nearly as good as the Bible, obviously.”
“And don’t mention what you said again,” Kylee ordered, shooing Troy away again.
“Thank you for the thought,” I said. “But I’m alright with not being a knight. It’s a dream that cannot come true, so I must live with it how I can,” I said melodramatically.
“But I can still fight,” she said, returning to subject suddenly to avoid more mishaps. “I’m more than good enough. What if you can’t protect me? Besides,” she pouted a little, “I want to feel the pulsing power of someone fighting…”
“Dad did always talk about how he felt when fighting…” Troy started again.
Kylee looked at him, and he darted away again. “I want to feel what you feel. What if you can’t protect me? I need to fight.”
“You won’t fight. No one will fight, Kylie.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t think its proper,” she said, her voice begging me to let her fight, when I wouldn’t let anyone else.
“I do not just think it is not proper. I know it is not proper. That is the end of the discussion.”
“Hey, what’s in the bag, Ed?” Troy asked.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I said, avoiding his question, “So I want none of our family telling anyone what’s going on. Troy, don’t tell Tanner, I know he isn’t going to hold it. Allen’s away at school, so I only have to tell Kylee and Troy. Oh, and Troy, send Helen and Tanner to bed, because it’s their bedtime.”
“Okay. What’s in the bag?”
“This.” I knew that it was useless to hide the information any longer, so I dumped out the bag’s war-implements across the rough hewn wood of our table. The family crowded around, gasping, oohing, and ahhing. Did they not realize that it was the enemy who had these?
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