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10th October 2020 Saturday has rolled around again and I'm in the living room, logged on to Skype. This means it's time for the final session of Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign. Location: The Badger's Set. A day ago Sir Nigel had confronted Sir Gaston in his camp at the southern side of Hexham. This was a matter between knights, so we left them to it and went back to the forest. Now, the next day had come. Dawn sunlight glinted off the dewy landscape and cast long morning shadows as we marched northwards out of Caucy forest and through the heathland to Hexham. Sir Nigel's forces were nowhere to be seen and it seemed as if Sir Philippe's and his men had departed. Something must've occurred yesterday. Upon entering Gaston's camp, we were confronted by guards. After showing them Lady Margaret's ring, they granted us access to Sir Gaston. Gaston was curious, he wanted to know how we came by this ring. We replied that Lady Margaret had gifted it to us after we helped to recover her wedding gown and foiled Conrad's poison plot. He was surprised as he thought Clugney had recovered the dress, however he seemed satisfied by our answers. Now that the small talk was out of they way, we asked Gaston what had happened to Sir Nigel? Gaston explained; after Nigel had issued him a challenge, Philippe had taken it upon himself to attack Nigel. They exchanged several volleys of arrows, which resulted in Philippe's death. Nigel had also been struck down by an arrow and his men retreated, carrying him off. Gaston was unaware of Nigel's fate. Following this, the majority of Philippe's men had packed up, left and headed east, some had stayed and joined Gilbert's or Gaston's camp. Next, we spoke at length about Sir Michael Somerville. Gaston was aware that Michael was at Hexham's north gate. He was unsure of Michael's motives and feared that if he attacked Hexham, Michael might wait for him to do all the hard work, then sweep in to finish the job, seizing all the glory. Gaston was considering attacking tomorrow. Quietly, Gaston confided that he would not be unhappy if Michael were to meet with an accident. He promised to pay us a thousand coins apiece and make us officers in his army if we took care of matters. We agreed to his terms, in truth we were undecided about how to deal with Sir Michael, but felt there was no harm in complying with Gaston, at least for now. Since there was no news about Sir Nigel, we decided to learn whether he lived still or not. This took us along the road through The Forest of Caucy and past the Knavesmire ruins. It was a quiet journey. Once this leafy forest road had carried a small but constant stream of travellers and peddlers, then it became host to bands of roaming soldiers, now it had become all but unused. The only people we encountered were our own diligent outlaws, dutifully but vainly watching the road for potential targets. Soon enough we reached The Fork and decided to go to Wedgemore first. Wedgemore was the same as always, fortunate to survive this conflict unscathed. We found a small number of Nigel's archers in Wedgemore, they informed us that Sir Nigel did indeed still live and was convalescing at Wenham Castle, on account that Wedgemore Castle was still uninhabitable. So to Wenham we went. Crossing the River Scarmore we entered southern Wenham and approached the castle. The damage suffered by Wenham was still in evidence everywhere, but the oppressive gloom that had been cast by the Teutons and Osric had evaporated. People were slowly returning and the residents were now busily going about the tasks of repairing and rebuilding Wenham. More of Sir Nigel's men were guarding the castle gates and even though they recognised us, they denied us access. "Sir Nigel is not seeing any visitors at this time," they told us. There was nothing more that we could achieve in Wenham, instead we decided to observe the Sir Michael's army north of Hexham. Leaving Wenham behind, we entered the forest once more and headed eastwards to its furthest reaches. Sir Michael's besieging army was unchanged. Whilst observing them, we noticed that various foraging parties had been sent out to feed the camp. Once again, the farms of Little Wenham were forced to endure the pillaging of an invading army. Foragers were also moving west along Caucy's northern border, they did not venture very deep into the woods though. As we were watching them, we concocted a plan. Marching back south across the Scarmore, we searched for some of Sir Gaston's own foragers from the shady confines of the forest. It did not take long to find a foraging party of seven and we ambushed them. The battle did not last long after unleashing a couple of volleys of arrows upon unsuspecting foragers. Quickly we hid their bodies and their cart in the forest. Then we searched them, the cart was filled with food, but more importantly, the dead men all wore Sir Gaston's colours, so we took their badges. Once again we marched, this time back to the north edge of the forest again and once again we watched for foragers from the shady confines of the forest - this time for Sir Michael's foragers. Once again, it did not take long to find some and once again we ambushed them. This time it was different though! We were wearing Gaston's colours and tried to speak with French accents when we attacked! We took down four of them and allowed the others to flee, deliberately missing them with our shots. Hopefully when they reported back to their camp, they would report that they had been attacked by Gaston's men. We then hid the bodies and cart of Michael's men and took their badges too! During the remainder of the afternoon, we harried all of Michael's foraging parties that we encountered. Never intending to kill anyone, but to convince them that they were under attack from Gaston's forces. We hoped provoke Michael into attacking Gaston. As the day began to close, we did not see any response from Michael's army. We had to learn if we had been successful, remembering that Gaston might attack tomorrow, time was not on our side. We needed those answers now! We had badges in Michael's colours and one of his carts, so we disguised ourselves as foragers and approached his camp. Sir Michael's camp was well guarded, but no one suspected anything and we easily infiltrated it. Even so, we had to tread carefully, we were now surrounded by three thousand soldiers who would not hesitate in killing us if they ever discovered our identities. The onset of night was nearing, the day's colour was fast draining out of the sky. Numerous campfires had been lit and their hazy orange glows held back the twilight in illuminated spots throughout the camp. Food was being cooked and men were gathering round, turning their hands and feet to the warmth. It was a perfect opportunity to hear some gossip and we were not disappointed. Talk of attacks by Gaston's men was rife in the camp. 'We were supposed to be in it together' was a common sentiment. Soldiers also questioningly spoke of how Gaston had managed to get his men on this side of the river and navigate through the forest? We realised that no one in the camp was aware of the two fords in the forest that crossed the Scarmore. Finally, men spoke of Michael's reaction: Upon hearing of the attacks, he was now considering attacking Hexham without delay in the morning. We had indeed provoked Michael, but not in the intended manner. This was not the best of news. Could Hexham resist the advance of both Gaston and Michael at the same time? This could not be left to chance. Finding Michael's tent was not hard, it was the only tent in the camp with guards. They did not however, guard the rear of the tent. We waited and night came, Mopsa slyly went to the back of Michael's tent. Slowly and quietly she cut an opening in the tent wall and crept in. Michael was asleep and undisturbed. Silently, Mopsa approached and slit Michael's throat and took his signet ring as proof. Then as a sign that Gaston was culprit behind this. Mopsa took Lady Margaret's ring and dipped it in Michael's cooling blood, then pressed the seal against his forehead. After this, she left the tent, no one was the wiser. If we remained in the camp when Michael's body was recovered, the guards would prevent anyone leaving and then, sooner or later we would be found out. The long, long hours until dawn passed uncomfortably, we were restless, wary and on edge. Eventually after an interminable wait, smudges of pale light began to appear in the eastern sky. We returned to our cart and headed out of the camp, telling the guards that we needed to make an early start on our foraging, they were not unduly suspicious and did not hinder our exit. Once the camp was out of sight, the cart was abandoned and we turned south and headed back to Gaston's camp. Dawn had come and gone by the time we arrived, there was a noticeable bustle as soldiers were up and about, busying themselves with various tasks. Gaston himself was easily found, shouting commands to the scurrying soldiers. When we gave him Michael's signet ring, he seemed most pleased and ordered his paymaster to give us three thousand coins. He then went on to yell even more orders and commands at his men. Gaston explained now that Michael was out of the picture, the siege at the north gate would end. This meant that Sir Roland would be free to leave via that route. Gaston said he had no choice but to attack soon. It seemed that no matter what how hard we tried, the assault on Hexham would proceed. We politely refused Gaston's invitation to join his army and left them mobilising for war. We had to find a way into Hexham and warn them of the impending attack. Hexham was a city built on both sides of the River Scarmore, which travelled its way through the heart of the city. The defensive walls of Hexham only reached as far as the riverbanks, riverboats could freely travel through Hexham. This could be the way in we sought. We followed the river upstream into The Forest of Caucy. Dotted along the banks and close to the easternmost ford lived some fishermen who eked a living out of this stretch of the river. We found one and paid him some coins for the use his boat. From here, the waters flowed downstream into Hexham, with the fisherman's boat we took to the river and allowed the current to bring us to the city. Some of the besieging forces were close to the Scarmore, but they paid scant attention to the sight of a mere three commoners in small boat on the river passing into Hexham. Once we had drifted beneath the bridge, we began rowing to the riverside and found a place to moor. Our landing had not gone unnoticed and after tying up the boat, a band of Hexham's guards came down to the river and demanded that we state our business. We told them that we bought important news about the army outside the city gates. They agreed to take us to the sheriff. As we walked through Hexham, it did not seem as despondent as we expected. None of the buildings appeared to have been boarded up, there were no dead-carts plying their trade through the city. Soon enough we arrived at the sheriff's office at the East Gate, we spoke with the sheriff and he explained to us that there was no plague in the city, it was a rumour that had been spread to misinform the besieging forces. After this, we tried to convince the sheriff of what was coming, that we needed to speak with Sir Roland, we even showed him Lady Margaret's ring. He refused to listen and this was evident when he ordered a score of his men on us. They did not attack us directly, instead they kept us at arm's length en masse with their spears and we were forcibly herded down the stairs into a familiar dungeon and locked up! Two long hours passed until we received a visitor. The face of a man we did not recognise appeared the door's small window. He spoke to us and asked us several questions, finally asking us what we had to do with his wife? Sir Roland! It could only be him. It was no time to be coy, we told him everything we knew. We even showed him the note that Lady Margaret had sent to Clugney about how she was about to strike. It was surprising then, to see that he found it all quite amusing? It was enough to convince him of something though, as he ordered the watchmen to unlock our cell. Then under the watchful eye of his own guards, we were taken to Hexham Castle and down into the dungeon? Sir Roland led us to a cell, within it we saw Lady Margaret! When she saw us, here eyes widened, perhaps she was hopeful we would help. She silently mouthed 'help me'. Sir Roland could not conceal a smirk, he waved her note to her and said. "These fellows seem to think you sent this!". It was staggering, if Lady Margaret hadn't send the messages... Then he had to have been Sir Roland. We had thought that Lady Margaret had been 'playing' Sir Roland, instead he had been playing her! Returning upstairs, Sir Roland explained that he had been sending the messages, spreading false rumours and misinformation, spreading inaccurate stories of the plague. It had been good enough to give them second thoughts on attacking. Sir Roland went on; all Hexham had to do now was hold until tomorrow, then all these matters would be resolved. Sir Roland the thanked us for our service and invited us to stay and to help defend Hexham. We had no love for Roland, but the welfare of Hexham's population did concern us. If Gaston's forces broke through, the people would be the ones to pay the price. So we decided to take Roland up on his offer. Before we took up our posts, we sought out Friar Nicholas and gave him the money that Gaston had given us. Gaston did not disappoint and soon enough at three past noon, his forces attacked. Fighting was fierce and the clamour of battle loud. During the fight Gaston would attack and be driven back, regroup and attack again. Hexham's defences held steady as assault after assault broke like so many crashing waves against the defences. As the day grew long, Gaston ordered his men to build gigantic bonfires and lit by flame, fighting continued into the night. Eventually though, Gaston's forces had to fall back for the remainder of the night. Having earned our respite, we slept fitfully and too briefly. Just before dawn we were woken and took up our posts. In the dimness and from our vantage point we could just about make out the activities beyond our defences. Gaston had gathered all of his soldiers into one formation, it looked like he was planning to one final massive push. As the dawn broke, his soldiers gave a bellowing roar, the ground seemed to tremble from their charge. Gaston held nothing back and struck at the defences with his full force. This time they did not fall back, nor could we push them back. As time passed, our defences weakened and finally broke. We flew to the streets and fought Gaston's men face-to-face. They were outnumbered and could press their advantage, however in this war of attrition, we could not hope last forever. It was midmorning when when beyond the melee, along the Knavesmire Road we saw another sizable army approaching, they displayed no colours. The column stopped at The Green and began to form up into battle order. Word had reached Sir Gaston that something was up, he had ordered his men to pull back, returning to The Green, to confront this new arrival. As Gaston's men were regrouping, the new army revealed their colours, unfurling The King's banner. This changed everything. Gaston could not hope to win against The King, who also blocked any route of escape, nor could he retreat into Hexham. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place and was left with only one option. Gaston and Gilbert surrendered to the King's men. It was over, Hexham had prevailed. The pair of them were marched off in shackles. Sir Roland quickly set about organising a feast of victory - and to thank The King for saving Hexham! It was a feast of grand size that emptied Hexham of much of its food, leaving the residents low on supplies. Some things we could not change. To Sir Nigel, he gave Wenham and Wedgemore. To Sir Michael's army which still lingered at Hexham's north gate, The King appointed a new Warden of the North. Soon after, the army left Hexham and returned north. Finally, as a reward to us, The King rescinded our status as outlaws and gave us Drumclog Castle and the freedom of Billige. We were now free to live in these places unmolested. Perhaps in the annals of Robin Hood, the deeds of The Merry Badgers of Billige would only warrant a footnote. Even so, a fine summer day had dawned for the simple peasant folk who were now free from the threats, violence and machinations that they had suffered. Billige and the surrounding settlements no longer felt the yoke of corrupt and oppressive lords. At least for now; who could know what the future might hold. It's true that no summer could last forever, not even an English one. Autumn will come and it too must yield to winter, but for now; there are days enough left to enjoy the summer. So ended the ninth and final adventures of: Calder Winterbourne, the wise and mouse-eater. Mopsa Hiems, Mopsacle Randulf The Red Black Stan Forever known as The Merry Badgers of Billige. Final ThoughtsMatakishi's campaign perfectly blended together the 'Merry Outlaws' rules and the style of play he used for this campaign. Merry Outlaws is a straightforward, unobtrusive light set of rules, there are no feats or special moves and never at any time did we feel like supermen. For most of the campaign I was no better at fighting than any guard. The only advantage we all had over our opponents were our hit points and to be honest; a couple of bad rolls and they would easily be whittled down to a dangerously low level. All of this served to give the rules a grounded feel. Meanwhile, Matakishi's campaign felt well researched and authentic (Not necessarily realistic which is arguably a different thing.). There was enough flavour to make it feel like a medieval setting, but not so much detail that it felt bogged down. The campaign was plotted in such a way that our influence and decisions had impact. Sometimes our actions influenced events, sometimes they spiralled out of our control, the mixture of the two felt compelling. All of this served to make us feel invested in the setting and campaign, which I think is very important, maybe the most important thing. I noticed that as a result we generally always remembered the names of NPCs, we remembered because we had a stake in the narrative. This combination of these two different factors led to a very enjoyable and memorable campaign. As a final final note, I'll add that we spent a lot of time learning how to write bloody stanzas! The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused.
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6th October 2020 It's Tuesday evening at 'The Sovereigns' in Woking and it's time for a boardgame. The main game this evening was 'Pan Am', a game about building up airline companies over the years and then watching as they bought out by Pan Am in exchange for shares! What's in a game? This game is set in 'The Golden Age of Air Travel', which I guess covers from the 'inter-war years' to the late 1960's. This is reflected in the games look and art, which has a cool retro look to it.
The game's components are all good and the game's art direction and quality are worth noting. This shows the game's attention to detail.
How's it play? Setup The set up for Pan Am is pretty straight forward.
Event card Every round begins by turning over that round's event card. This determines some actions that will occur in the game.
Worker placement This is where the majority of the game occurs; Usually placing workers starts with the 1st player, but there is something called priority. This is explained in detail below, but basically any workers that were placed into the directive spaces in the previous round go first in placement order. There are 2 types of spaces a worker can be placed into.
So we go on to the five different types of worker action available to players. Players can obviously place down their workers in any other, but below is the order in which they are resolved
Expansion Pan Am airlines starts the game in the Miami city space. The die is used to determine how and where Pan Am expands. The number of times the active player rolls it is dictated by the event card. When the die is rolled, it will show one of two types of action.
Selling (Or being forced to sell.) routes is not necessarily a bad thing, it can be vital to winning the game. This is because Pan Am actually offers reasonably good money for a route. A 1 point route will earn a player 1 per round, thus if a player has it for all 7 rounds it will earn a maximum of 7 throughout the game. Pan Am pays 5 for a 1 point route. So long term, keeping a route earns more, but it's a slow drip of money. Selling to Pan Am gives the player a lump sum that can immediately be re-invested into claiming more routes (Or buying shares.). A 1 point route is worth 5. A 2 point route is worth 9. A 3 point route is worth 12. A 4 point route is worth 14. Obviously, there are diminishing returns here, but remember the class 4 aeroplanes will not appear until turn 6 (Unless an event card changes this.) and will only generate income for 2 turns. When a route is sold to Pan Am, the player reduces their income track by the value of the route and the aeroplane on the route is replaced by a Pan Am token. The aeroplane is returned to the player which is actually very useful. The amount of aeroplanes a player can have is limited to the number of aeroplanes available. Each player only has 1 class 4 aeroplane, so being able to use it, sell the route it's on and then use it again is the way to go. Players not only get the opportunity to sell routes during expansion, event cards and directive cards can also allow players to sell routes. Income Players earn an amount of money equal to their position along their income track. Buy shares Players can now buy shares, because this is the airline business, the only shares that matter are Pan Am shares. Players may buy as much Pan Am stock as they can afford, the price of the shares is influenced by the event card played at the start of the round. Since there is only ever 7 opportunities to buy shares, it's probably a good idea to try and buy them at every opportunity. Once all players have bought all the shares they want, the round ends. The first player marker is moved left to the next player and new round begins. Endgame In this game, no one cares about the little routes that you create, they only care about Pan Am. After the end of the 7th round, players tally up the shares they have bought. Highest number of shares win. Remaining money counts as a tie breaker.
Overall
Pam Am does a good job of blending accessibility, depth and player options. Very rarely was there a meaningless choice in the game. Most of the time I felt that I could do with an extra worker or two. Maximising your workers is very important, as is knowing when to bid for something or not. The destination card and class 1 aeroplane auction tracks have a minimum bid of 0. There's potential to get stuff for free when other players have minimal interest in it. The key to the game I think, is selling routes to Pan Am at the right time, the prices are set a sweet spot of being good but not too good. Generally it's prudent to sell routes to Pan Am, but it's never a no-brainer - and that's a good thing. Ideally players will want to try and build routes close to Pam Am, hoping to get bought out. It's almost a counter-intuitive way to play. Since the game is ultimately all about Pan Am shares, you obviously need to buy as many as possible and the game only gives players 7 opportunities to do this. Stock prices generally start low in the game and rise continually throughout the game, this can put players in a quandary. Do you buy shares in earlier rounds when they are much cheaper and run the risk of lacking funds to compete in bidding? Or do you buy them later, hoping that your early investments pay off and give you more money to buy the invariably more expensive shares. Finally, it's quite interesting watching as Pan Am unfailingly spreads across the board, consuming everything in its way. I have the urge to play Pan Am again, that's always a solid indicator of a good game in my opinion. It's definitely worth trying. 6th October 2020 For the first time in nearly 7 months we're in Woking at 'The Sovereigns'. The last we were here was the 17th March! The Woking Gaming Club isn't really back up-and-running yet, but a few of us have raised our heads above the parapets to wave the flag and of course; play some games. The first game of the night was 'Medium', a light word-association card game. What's in a game?
How's it play? Before play begins the deck must be created, the number of cards used depends on the number of players. The deck is shuffled and the 3 crystal ball cards are shuffled into the bottom third of this deck. 6 cards are then deal to each player. Finally, the scoring tokens are laid out with the scores face down and the 1, 2 and 3 numbers displayed.
Endgame Play continues until the 3rd crystal ball card is drawn, which triggers the endgame. The game then continues until the current round is completed and all players have had an equal number of turns. Each player then tallies up the scores from the tokens to their left and right, highest score wins! Overall
There's not much to say. As you can see from above, Medium is a light game that may appeal to casual players, it is a game that can be quickly learnt. It's not a deep game either, random chance can play a part and sometimes you'll get 2 words that have no obvious commonality. There is some room for strategy in Medium though. The player that goes 2nd will have the opportunity to play a hopefully suitable second word. We didn't play the game extensively, but it seemed if a common word wasn't guessed first time, the 2nd and 3rd guesses weren't going to be any better. It's a strangely stressful game, I think it's because your guess will also affect your partner's score. Conversely; when it's not your time, observing how other people play is fun. One potential issue was the scoring, each 'level' of scoring has a 1-point variation in its score and some people are not fond of it. We house ruled it and used the other side of the tokens for scoring, a successful first guess would get 3 points, down to 1 for a successful 3rd guess. If you like somewhat stressful word-association games, then you might like this. Easy to learn and play, it's a reasonable little filler game. 3rd October 2020 Saturday night in the living room and logged into Skype. We may a player down, but Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign continues. Location: The Badger's Set. We had successfully liberated Billige from the yolk of The Black Company and defeated Matterson the Cruel. After some discussion, we decided that we should press on against The Black Company. Their leader, Thorbjorn Neilson had assumed Clugney's seat in Wedgemore, this is where we decided to go. We instructed The Crows to watch the road and 'relieve' any passing supply convoys or soldiers of their possessions. Taking the Welshmen with us, we journeyed through the forest uneventfully, but we stopped short of leaving the tree line and observed from the safety of the shady foliage. Wedgemore was as prosperous as it had always been and the residents went about their business normally, seemingly unaffected by the violence that had afflicted all the other local settlements. As we watched, we could see small groups of soldiers patrolling, each consisted of about half a dozen of Clugney's men begin lead by a man-at-arms from The Black Company. Wedgemore Castle was still uninhabitable and the tent camp was still in use. we spotted Thorbjorn, he was residing in one of the signature black and white tents favoured by The Black Company. The other black and white tent was occupied by his retinue. The direct approach here was not much of an option, there were too many enemies. Instead we discussed our next step. That next step, it appears would be a devious one. Mopsa still had the poison given to her by Mother Benevolent. We knew that the servants in Thorbjorn's retinue would provide him with food and drink at mealtime. We came up with a plan to poison his drink. The best time to poison him was at breakfast we surmised. So we waited until the fall of night and in the hours between midnight and dawn, Mopsa slyly entered the camp. It was quiet in the camp, there was no movement. Shrouded by darkness, Mopsa crept between tents, making her way until she found the servant's tent. Quietly, Mopsa entered the tent. Inside it was pitch black, Mopsa couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. It was too risky to have any kind of light, Mopsa had to very slowly navigate the tent in the darkness. Eventually, by touch alone she discovered the serving jug. Mother Benevolent had told Mopsa that there was enough poison to kill about six people. Mopsa poured about half of the poison into the jug. The servants would not pay any attention to such a small amount of liquid in the jug when they filled it with beer in and handed it over to Thorbjorn in the morning. He would drink it, the poison would do its thing; job done. Mopsa now had but to leave the tent and return to the forest. As she made for the exit she stumbled over something. There was a splutter and a grunt, one of the servants had woken. Mopsa lay on the ground, holding her breath. In the dark she could hear the rustle of clothing and blankets, still she waited, breath held. The movement and rustling continued for a few more moments. Then Mopsa heard the recognisable sound of someone flopping back down to sleep. Mopsa waited a few more moments, there were no more sounds of movement. Mopsa made for the exit again - this time even more cautiously. After making it out of the tent, Mopsa returned to the sanctuary of the forest. Now all we had to do was wait and watch. Dawn was still a thin rosy band along the eastern horizon when the Teutons rose at five o'clock. As the camp stirred, we watched the servants bringing food and drink to Thorbjorn. An hour passed as we continued to watch. We saw one of the servants come out of their test, he was coughing blood and collapsed! The wrong person had been poisoned. There was alarm, but nobody seemed suspicious at the cause of his demise as they carted off his corpse. Not be deterred, Randulf came up with a possible solution to our dilemma: Now that the servant was dead, he would need to be replaced. Randulf disguised himself as a resident of Wedgemore and approached Thorbjorn's remaining servants and asked for employment. The servants seemed quite happy to employ Randulf: He spent the day as their general dogsbody, they worked Randulf quite hard through the day whilst they relaxed. Randulf did however get the opportunity to search their tent in the afternoon. He found several serving jugs, including one that was particularly well made, this must have been the jug used to serve Thorbjorn. Carefully, Randulf tipped the remaining poison into this jug. As the day wore on, the servants prepared Thorbjorn's evening meal. Randulf saw that they filled the poisoned jug with beer and took to him. When no one was looking, Randulf nipped back in the tent and stuffed the now empty vial into a servant's sleeping bag. An hour later, a bellowing roar came out of Thorbjorn's tent. The Teutonic knight came staggering out coughing blood, he walked a few swaying steps before toppling to the floor. He was dead. The Black Company men-at-arms were highly suspicious now, they had seen two people to die in the same way on a single day. They suspected poison - and they were right to do so. The men-at-arms rounded up all the serving staff, as Randulf was the newcomer, suspicion immediately fell on him. But as fate would have it, one of the soldier returned from having searched the servant's tent. He had a vial in one hand and and some blankets in the other. The servants were questioned and the one identified as the owner of the blankets was dragged away. Without delay, the men-at-arms began torturing the poor servant. He squirmed and screamed but did not admit to the poisoning. Meanwhile, the remaining servants - including Randulf were still kept in custody. The torture continued for some time, but still the servant vehemently protested his innocence. The soldiers were less convinced of his guilt now and some of them were beginning to give Randulf sidelong glances. It was only a matter of time before the men-at-arms came back to Randulf. We had to get him out of there and fast! There was no time for a clever solution, instead we had to use the direct approach. Along with the Welshmen, we launched a volley of arrows at the soldiers keeping the servants in custody. Our aim was true and we landed several arrows on target, thinning their numbers. With alarming skill, the men-at-arms reached for their weapons, turned to face us and immediately formed a shield war and began advancing on our position on the edge of the forest. We loosed a second volley into the shield wall, it was much less effective, but it kept their attention firmly fixed on us. This gave Randulf the opportunity he needed to make good his escape. As he did so, one of the servants tried to hold him back, but Randulf simply swatted him away and being swift footed, easily fled into a different part of the woods. The rest of us also retreated into the woods. We all met up soon enough and returned to The Badger's Set. Poisoning was a rather nasty way of meeting your fate and it had been a messy end to Thorbjorn's messy end, but the deed was done and that was what counted. The next day came. Next we decided to travel to a place we had yet to see; Wenham and Wenham Castle. We were certain that the road to Wenham would be guarded at the bridge. Instead we decided to cross the Scarmore River at the western forest ford. Once again, we took the Welshmen with us, the others would be left watching the road. With Knavesmire abandoned and The Crow Folk leaderless, the forest of Caucy north of the road had become a quiet, somewhat remote place. We marched along the woody trails and verdant winding paths in an unremarkable journey. We emerged from the trees somewhere between Wenham and Little Wenham. Little Wenham had suffered the encroachment of The Peasant's Army, we thought it prudent to check on the settlement first. Farmers had returned to their homes and fields, they were busy repairing the damage and vandalism done to the land. Crops and been stolen or churned up, farmland would need reseeding. The Peasant's Army's advance had been halted before they reached Little Wenham and it had been was mostly unchanged. Turning south, we saw small bands of people and families walking north out of Wenham with whatever belongings they could carry. It was a scattered but definitely constant stream of people. Stopping some of these people, we asked them what the situation was like in Wenham? Their answers were not good. Once the defences at the bridge had fallen, the Teutons and Clugney's men had swept in, sacking Wenham, killing, burning and looting at a whim. Among the invaders was a man dressed entirely in black, he set on himself to destroy Wenham's church and persecute the parishioners. They had no choice but to flee. We gathered together as many of the refugees as we could and told them that they could find safety at Billige if they chose to go there. Most of them found this agreeable and we instructed the Welshmen to lead them through the forest to Billige. Continuing south, we came upon Wenham's northern gate. It was a typically walled town, guarded by Clugney's men, they seemed very relaxed and paid us no attention as we came into the town. It was obvious to all that Wenham had endured an attack. From broken windows and sundered doors to burnt and blackened ruins, seemingly every building showed evidence of damage. Smoke still rose from the southern half of the Wenham. The town was surprisingly free of corpses considering the attack it had so recently experienced. Even though much of Wenham's population must had fled north, they were still a few brave souls solemnly going about their business. Next we decided to investigate the smoke, this took us into the southern parts of Wenham, once again we passed the guards and they completely ignored us. The southern half of Wenham was a lot more densely built up than the north. The houses and buildings here were a lot more tightly packed together and generally at closer to each other. Even so, the southern half was a lot less populated than the northern. The town square was closed, shops were closed, streets were practically empty of people and an eerie quietness had settled on the south. The town's church wasdevastated, it was burnt and ruined dead husk of a building. Workmen were busily ripping its stony corpse apart, taking away the brickwork and masonry, apparently to rebuild houses elsewhere in Wenham. Worse than that; the corpses of a number of clergymen had been strung up around the ruined church. There we saw Osric; the 'man in black', he did not see or perhaps recognise us, he was fully occupied with directing the gutting of the church. Wenham Castle was also located in the southern half, the black and white Teutonic flag fluttered atop the castle. The walls and battlements were surprisingly undamaged, it didn't look like the castle had put up much of a fight against the invaders. Still further to the south, smoke still rose. We continued towards it until we discovered the gruesome truth behind it. Piled high were the bodies of the dead townsfolk, here was where the dead had been taken. Victims of the fighting had been gathered into some sort of huge pyre. But this was no ordinary pyre, no funeral pyre would ever burn this long. Wood was being used to keep the fire going and the occasional newly-found corpse would be heaped upon it. The sight of this, chilled us to the core. What could be the purpose of this? We spoke with some of the few townsfolk that still lived in this part of Wenham. They provided us with several answers. They said that they had been told it was supposedly a 'German tradition', or was being done to 'stop the spread of the plague'. The orders to slowly burn the bodies had come from Osric. Some of the townsfolk also swore blind that Osric had 'turned into a bird, flown into the castle and opened it up for the attackers'! Well, it would at least explain why the castle had been taken without sustaining damage! Finally, they told us that they had heard rumours that another army was attacking Hexham from the north. This was significant. We knew that Gaston, Gilbert and Philippe were on the southern of Hexham, who could be on the north? Further south, past the pyre, the southern gate out of Wenham was locked and had been barricaded. There was no way out through there. Our options were limited: We could not conceive any way to get into the castle. Osric however, was without guards, busy supervising the workers at the church. He would be our next target. First we scouted out the area around the church and devised an escape route. Fortunately getting over the town wall would be easier from the inside. During this time, we were approached by two men in black. Reflexively, we assumed that they were Crow Folk - and we were correct. They meant us no harm though, they had heard that following the deaths of their leaders, we had recruited some Crow Folk. They asked to join our cause too, we chose to accept them. Now that we had an escape route, we had to deal with Osric. There was no time to devise a clever scheme, instead we just shot him with arrows, except for Randulf who charged Osric, yelling. The strange black robed priest was made of sterner stuff than appeared. Several arrows had hit their mark, Osric was staggered but still standing. He tried running into the ruined church for cover when Randulf intercepted him. Osric whipped out a pair of wicked looking daggers, Randulf and he exchanged blows for a few moments. Then our two new recruits both landed their shots on Osric. It was too much for him and he crumpled to the ground, dead. After a few moments of yelling and fighting, a calmness had settled on the ruined church. The workers had wisely fled at the first sign of trouble, looking round we realised that we were alone. This wouldn't last; Randulf searched Osric and found some knuckle bones and runic pendants. He took all of them, along Osric's two daggers. After this, we fled. There were no problems as we followed our escape route out of Wenham and made for the safety of the forest. From there we returned to The Badger's Set. When we arrived, we learnt that the refugees had successfully reached Billige. The next day came and deciding our next step was easy. It was agreed that we should investigate this mysterious army north of Hexham. We marched north through the forest, across the road and over the river, after some hours we reached the northernmost edge of the trees. From our position, we could see that there was indeed another sizeable army besieging Hexham's north gate. Three or four thousand in number. Their colours were 'vert a tree or', I recognised it as the livery of 'Sir Michael Somerville', a powerful lord from the north. In our estimation, Sir Michael's forces were greater the combined French forces south of Hexham. This new obstacle was a significant one. As we watched and deliberated the predicament, we spotted some movement, further north past Sir Michael's army, at the horizon. It was a column of some sixty riders led by a knight, they had stopped well away from Sir Michael's army. They lingered for a minute or two before heading off in the direction of The Devil's Cut, they were skirting the army by going cross country. This would bring them close to the tree line, as they drew closer, their colours became clearer. 'Argent three sparrows sable', these were the colours of 'Sir Nigel Loring' a well known knight with some renown for fighting the French. Looking as unthreatening as possible, we stepped out of the relative safety of the trees and waved down the column. They halted and the heavily armoured knight at the head of the column cantered up, upon reaching us he flipped up his visor and identified himself as Sir Nigel Loring. We exchanged pleasantries and Sir Nigel told us that he, along with Sir Michael Somerville had been tasked with pursuing The Peasant's Army on its march south. When The Peasant's army was dispersed, word reached Sir Michael that Hexham was being besieged, he abandoned the pursuit in favour of personal gain. Sir Nigel was not impressed with Sir Michael going against Roland, 'The King's man'. In turn, we explained to Sir Nigel what had passed in this Parish in the last few weeks. How Wenham and Wedgemore were in the hands of Teutonic knights and how French forces were besieging Hexham. Sir Nigel was not pleased to hear of the encroachment of French soldiers and particularly the Teutonic knights. He decided to set things right. We looked at his men and when we explained to Sir Nigel that he would be matching his sixty against Gaston, Gilbert and Philippe's hundreds, he did not seem perturbed. Instead he ordered his men on to Wenham. Sir Nigel had no quarrel with us accompanying him, so we did. He rode into Wenham and up to the castle. Shouting loudly, he challenged whoever was inside to single combat, announcing that everyone inside was a cowardly cur. The Wenham castle gates opened and out rode 'Vortingeld the Black', last knight of The Black Company. Sir Nigel and Vortingeld lifted their visors in salute to one another as a crowd began to gather, news of their fight had spread fast, the growd continued to grow as they prepared. Once these preparations were completed, they met in battle. Sir Nigel and Vortingeld charged each other with lances, the result was a tie, they wheeled round and had a second pass, again it was indecisive, they were quite evenly matched. They had a third pass and Vortingeld was finally unseated, toppling head over heel and crashing to the ground. The battle continued on foot, here it was clear Sir Nigel had an advantage and Vortingeld was quickly dispatched. A roar of approval rose from the watching English crowds. Vortingeld was the last of the three knights, perhaps it meant an end to the Teutons. Having won the fight, Sir Nigel demanded The Black Company vacate Wenham Castle. Despondently, most of them left the castle. A hand of the men-at-arms belligerently decided to stay on in the castle, among them was Bjorn Ironhand. We remembered the time when Bjorn had boasted of burning The Three Stoats and a Weasel inn down to the ground and the bodies that we had found strung along the road next to the ruined inn. Randulf stepped forward and shouted his own challenge to Bjorn. Luckily for Randulf, Bjorn Ironhand was happy to acquiesce. Randulf waved Matterson's warhammer at Bjorn and they met in battle. Bjorn was outmatched and he soon fell to Randulf's blows, he had failed to land a single blow on Randulf. Seeing that Bjorn too had been bested, the last remaining Teutonic soldiers fled the castle. Sir Nigel ordered his men to secure the castle and took command of Wenham. The day was late and the sun was crawling towards the horizon, Sir Nigel decided to spend the night at Wenham and continue on in the morning. He invited us to stay in the castle as well, but we declined. Instead we returned to the forest and to The Badger's Set after telling him we would return in the morning to lead him and his men to Hexham. We rose early and with the low morning sun blazing at our backs, travelled through the forest to Wenham. The morning was quiet save for our marching and the energetic birdsong, we arrived at Wenham without mishap. After exchanging pleasantries, we took the lead and set out for Hexham. It did not take long to reach The Fork, we had to stop short, it was barricaded and manned by Clugney's men. We had forgotten that The Fork would still be under control of The Black Company. Sir Nigel did not seem concerned though. He called over one of his men. "Samkind, it's your turn," he told the man. Samkin ordered the men to dismount and organised them into a formation, they then loosed a volley at the soldiers manning the barricades. Several soldiers fell to the arrows, those remaining realised that they could not hope to resist the archers and retreated. The archers remounted their horses and we continued passed the fork. It was decided that we should visit Wedgemore before heading to Hexham. Whilst the forces at Wedgemore were fairly insignificant, we did not feel like having them at our backs as we advanced eastwards. When we arrived at Wedgemore, the townsfolk came watch us reach the town. We talked with Sir Nigel and told him we should give the soldiers an opportunity to surrender or retreat. He did not protest this and said that we should speak with them ourselves, if that was how we felt. So we went into Wedgemore and addressed the soldiers, there were no more than twenty of Clugney's men and Teutons. Mopsa told them that we intended to take control of Wedgemore and behind us were sixty archers. If the twenty of them left Wedgemore now, they would be allowed to leave unharmed. They did not spend much time deliberating, they were outnumbered three-to-one and left without causing trouble. The Black Company were now well and truly vanquished and their grip here was broken. From here we set out for Hexham once again. Passing The Fork once more, we soon entered the gloomy stillness of Caucy Forest. As we passed the burnt out, gutted remains of Knavesmire, Sir Nigel could see that this destruction had occurred recently. He turned to us and asked who had done this. We replied that Conrad had destroyed the village, but the inn had been attacked by The Black Company. Sir Nigel shook his head and commented that the world had gone mad. The column continued east until reached Hexham. As the forest fell away, giving way to open field and pasture, we could see the forces arrayed out against us. Sir Gilbert held the green with his men. Sir Philippe held the area further east of Hexham, including Drumclog Moss Road. Sir Gaston was on the crossroad itself, he was in a commanding position there. Unperturbed, Sir Nigel and his men rode straight into Gaston's camp and he issued Gaston a challenge. Gaston however, refused the challenge, stating he had ni wish to fight another English knight. Sir Nigel then give him an ultimatum; fight or leave. We decided to leave them to it, there was little we could do here. Instead we had another idea and went all the way back to Wedgemore. The town was as pleasant as always and quieter now that it was empty of soldiers. Wedgemore Castle was equally as quiet when we returned to it. Previously we had seen pigeons arriving at the castle from the direction of Hexham. It was likely that whoever was sending them would not be aware that Clugney was dead and his castle had fallen. We found the castle's dove cage, as luck would have it, there was a messenger pigeon here. It read: 'Are getting worried, will strike tomorrow. M'. 'M' had to refer to Lady Margaret. What was she planning, was she planning to kill Sir Roland? we discussed what we should next, ultimately we decided to send a reply. 'Stay for hand for two days.' it read, After this we returned to The Badger's Set. Thus ended the eighth adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. 26th September 2020 Saturday evening in the living room. Logged into Google Meeting. Time for Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign to continue. Location: The Badger Set. In the few days since Sir Clugney had met his end, much had come to pass. In the battle for Wenham, Conrad had been felled. His mutilated corpse was hanging on a wooden pole along the road into Wenham at the bridge. Our minds drifted back to the words of the old woman from weeks ago: "I see an early death for you, beneath a tree.". Lacking a clear leader, The Peasant's Army had crumbled and dispersed. They had scattered and fled north, harried still by the knights that had been in pursuit of them. Hexham was besieged by Sir Gaston and a newcomer 'Sir Philippe Phillope'. It was said that behind the closed gates and walls of Hexham, the streets were stalked by plague! 'Thorbjorn Neilson, leader of The Black Company had assumed Clugney's seat of power and now ruled in Wedgemore. Consequently, One of The Black Company knights; 'Matterson the Cruel' now ruled over Billige, along with sixteen men-at-arms. Sir Gaston had received reinforcements. It was said that Osric could still be found at Wedgemore. Finally; it was rumoured that The Crow Folk were planning something, something big? We discussed our next step at length. Liberating Billige was a priority, but doing so might provoke a retaliatory response from Neilson and we wished to keep the villagers and refugees out of harm's way. In the end, it was decided that we should strike at Gaston and Neilson's forces. It was likely that the Dumclog Moss Road which ran through The Forest of Caucy would be used to resupply the besieging soldiers at Hexham. We would harass these supply convoys with hit-and-run attacks, retreating into the safety of the forest whenever needed. It was time that our mettle as outlaws was shown. With our foresters and Welshmen in tow, we travelled to the road a little way from the Knavesmire ruins, we hid and waited for a suitable target to pass. Other than a mild breeze sighing though the branches and the birdsong, the forest was quiet. With the destruction of the town, this part of the forest had become uninhabited. We did not have to wait long: An ox-drawn cart, escorted by four mounted men-at-arms soon came along the road. The perfect target. Before the cart approached, Randulf positioned himself in the centre of the road, directly in their path. There he stood, facing them with feet planted wide and sinewy hands resting upon his mace's haft. "Stand and deliver. Your money or your life!" he yelled. The convoy halted, from our hiding spot we could see that they did not understand Randulf's threats. They seemed to grasp his meaning however, as one of the soldiers charged Randulf in reply. Calder loosed an arrow at the rider, the foresters followed suite and he was toppled off his horse. The horse slowed to a canter and was stopped by Randulf. The rest of us leapt into action. A second rider charged at Randulf while the other two started barking orders at the drivers to turn the wagon around. We quickly dealt with the second charger and turned our attention on the remaining two men-at-arms. There hadn't been much success moving the wagon, it appeared the drivers didn't seem to understand the orders. The two men-at-arms realised they were in trouble, turned and fled, abandoning the cart. We fired a volley at them, killing one. The other we allowed to escape, someone needed to spread the word: The Merry Badgers of Billige now ruled this road. The cart, it contained food, weapons and surprisingly, number of 'lares'. We had decided to take the wagon to The Badger Set when all hell broke loose! A volley of black-feathered arrows rained down on us, we were sent reeling. It could only be The Crow Folk. There was a score of them, dressed entirely in black and they were on us before we could gain our bearings. At the rear of were two in crow masks, the two last Crow Brothers The Crow Folk outnumbered us had the momentum, we were put on to the back foot. Blows were exchanged and we struck down several of their number. But we did not escape injury and most of the foresters and Welshmen were forced to retreat into the cover of the forest. I too was driven into the trees. This had left an opening in the melee, Mopsa and Randulf charged the Crow Brothers, Calder followed them in. Most of The Crow Folk stopped to witness this fight. Meanwhile I had managed to lose my attackers. I returned to the tree line and returned to the fight. In the end, we prevailed against the Crow Brothers, both were slain. A silence fell upon the forest, punctuated only by the breathing from our exertions, the fighting was over. Eight Crow Folk remained. Their leaders were dead and they were hesitant, we could see it in their posture. Mopsa seized the moment and told them that if they forswore their old ways, they could join The Merry Badgers. They would have to help the needy yes, but they would never be under the yoke of a sheriff or a lord. Her oratory was impressive and convinced them to join with us, our numbers had grown by eight. Before leaving, we searched the fallen Crow Folk and were most surprised to find Phillip the 'simpleton' from The Three Stoats and a Weasel inn among the dead. Long had we suspected that The Crow Folk had a spy at the inn, at one time we had even suspected Phillip. Now we had a macabre confirmation. Since Phillip had been to our camp, it meant that The Crow Folk also new its location. With the last two Crow Brothers defeated, we hoped that their strength was broken and now leaderless, they would disband and disperse. Hopefully it was an end to their threat. The return to The Badger Set was uneventful, we noticed that our new recruits already knew the way... After our arrival, we spoke to Leopold and Edith, they were quite upset to learn of Phillip's demise. We told them that they should not feel too bad, he was after all a member of a gang of pitiless killers. They did not seem very consoled, Edith stated that she would offer up a prayer for him. After arming everyone as best as possible, it was decided that the remaining weapons should be taken to The Drumclog Few. When last we had seen them, they were armed with pitiful blunt wooden weapons, making their slim chances of defeating professional soldiers even slimmer. On the following day, we rose in the early morning coolness, a thin mist hung low over the hazy, silent landscape. Eschewing the cart, we hid the weapons in bundles of sticks before heading off cross country, over the dewy fields towards Drumclog Moss. For the first leg of our journey we did not encounter a single soul until we reached the Drumclog Moss road. The road was no longer a safe place for outlaws, we had to be cautious, the forest lay on the other side of the road and crossing it could be a risk. Our concerns were well founded. The road was heavily patrolled by soldiers bearing Sir Philippe's colours. They were spaced out to cover as much of the road as possible without losing sight of one another. They must have been part of the besieging forces. Patiently, we had to bide our time until we could safely cross. Crossing over safely and soon after entering the Drumclog Moss, the road was lost from sight behind layers of tangled bushes and foliage. Tall gnarled oaks loomed over us as sunlight dimly flittered through the swaying branches above. The location of The Drumclog Few's camp was not known to us, but no doubt they had been watching the patrols and had also watched us cross. no doubt they were watching us at this very moment. We did not have to wait long to be proven correct. Emerging from shadows came a small, limping man. He introduced himself and we exchanged pleasantries. He told us that he remembered seeing us in the forest a while ago and complimented Randulf on his quarterstaff skills. We explained that we were here to see Hugh the Silent. The limping man led us deeper into Drumclog Moss, along faint trails, under ancient boughs and through forgotten hollows. Eventually the forest opened up somewhat into a clearing of sorts. This was the camp of The Drumclog Few; it was a messy, filthy place and was filled with the sick and the infirm. Nobody here had escaped disfigurement or disease. As we entered the camp, Hugh and Leaking Sam approached us. Sam greeted us while Hugh stared at us inexpressively. "Hugh is very pleased to see you," claimed Sam. They were also very pleased to receive the weapons we gifted them. They said that they had attacked Philippe's soldiers several times and had been driven back at every attempt, hopefully these weapons would help. Finally we explained that we were planning to move against Gaston et al. and there may come a time when we call upon The Drumclog Few for aid. "Call and we will come," replied Sam. There was nothing left to do; so we returned to The Badger Set. Once again avoiding the roads and marching cross country. The next day came. We now numbered twenty and it was high time to take fight back against our enemies. Our first targets were Drumclog Castle and Billige, our intention was to free them from beneath the fist of The Black Company. We would start with the castle, we had heard that Matterson was camped there, along with eight French soldiers. As the sun was beginning to sink into the west, we set out for Drumclog Castle. Entering the same copse we had hidden ourselves in during our first escapade. From our hiding spot we watched: Work was under way in restoring the castle, but progress would be slow. There were however, several differences here. Two black-and-white tents had been set up, as well as another large tent. There were also several wooden huts here, constructed by the workmen. Finally, we spied two lookouts on the castle's single surviving tower. The black-and-white tents would be for Matterson and his retinue, but who was in which tent we could not tell. The larger tent would be for the Frenchmen. Under the cover of darkness, we quickly concocted a plan. Firstly, we sent the four Welshmen a quarter-mile down the path that led to Billige. They had instructions to finding a hiding spot and wait. If anyone from the castle managed to slip past us, the Welshmen would ambush them. Conversely, if anyone came up the path from Billige, they could warn us. Next were the lookouts, a volley of a dozen arrows dealt with them. The foresters and the crows numbered twelve, that should be enough to handle the six remaining French soldiers. Calder and Mopsa would handle one black-and-white tent, Randulf and I would deal with the other one. Calder sneaked into a tent slyly, fortune was not with him though and in the darkness he blundered and kicked a bucket over. This tent contained Matterson's two young squires, the noise they awoke and desperately reached for weapons. It was too late for them though, Calder managed to dispatch the pair of them before they could mount a defence. Meanwhile in the other tent, Randulf and I quietly approached, as we entered the occupants woke up. Matterson was here, along with two women who began screaming. Matterson leapt to his feet, grasping a dagger. Randulf squared off against Matterson for a moment, before charging him, yelling loudly. I stood back and watched. Randulf wrestled Matterson to the ground, attempting to subdue him. Matterson in response, lashed out with his dagger. Randulf managed to fend off the blade, but this gave Matterson the opportunity to break free from Randulf's grip. Randulf was staggered, Matterson slashed a cut in the tent and forced his way out. He did not get far though, I tackled him and we crashed to the ground, the struggle with Randulf had left Matterson wearied and I managed to pummel him into unconsciousness. At the same time, we heard a long note being blown on a forester's horn! What the blazes were they doing? We went to the tent, it was a bloody mess, the foresters and crows had made short work of the soldiers within. The foresters had blown their horn to signify their victory, they explained! They had also cheerfully adorned themselves with the armour, weapons and helmets of the dead soldiers. To absolutely no one's surprise, once the foresters were loaded down with loot, they cheerfully wandered off back to their home, leaving us to it. The two women and the workers were no threat and we left them to their own business. Matterson was now our prisoner, he was trussed up like a chicken and we bought him along with us to Billige. It was the dead of night when we arrived, along one side of the village was a swathe of sprawling tents inhabited by the Knavesmire refugees. Villagers displaced by The Black Company had swelled their numbers even further. Billige was a dark and silent place. It's few small streets deserted, doors closed and windows shuttered. Dim wavering candlelight betrayed activity in a few homes. Ensuring Matterson was gagged, we entered the village centre and tied him to the maypole. The villagers had told us that there were sixteen Teuton soldiers here, each had taken a house for themselves. The previous occupants forced to find shelter elsewhere. Their numbers equalled ours, but we had no interest in a fair fight. Instead we came up with a simple plan. We paired off into eight small teams, each pair would creep into houses containing a Teuton soldier and hopefully kill him in his sleep. It was a gruesome, cold blooded task, but it was effective. By the time we had visited all sixteen houses, we had managed to quietly kill nine of them. We could not reach the remaining seven, either their doors were locked or they were still awake. Nevertheless, the odds now greatly favoured us. A pair of us hid outside the door of every remaining Teuton and waited. Randulf went into the village centre and made a great racket, threatening them by roaring. "Stand and deliver. Your money or your lives,". As the seven remaining Teutons came out to investigate, they were ambushed. Five were immediately slain, the last two tried to flee into the village centre but they too were cut down. The Teutons were all dead, Billige had been liberated. There might be repercussions in the future, but for now, the people were free. Scant minutes ago Billige had been oppressively quiet and empty, now cheering people filled the village centre. The foresters had reappeared, they were talking about instigating a militia to protect Billige and has luck would have it: The foresters just happened to have some equipment they would happily sell to the villagers for a reasonable price... For the folk of Billige it was the hour for celebration, for The Merry Badgers, it was the hour for rest, it had been a taxing night. As we left Billige for The Badger Set, we left Matterson the Cruel tied to the maypole, left to the villager's tender mercies... So ended the seventh adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. 19th September 2020 Saturday evening had come around again. In the living room, I'm logged into Skype. This means it's time for Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign. Location: The Badger Set. A few days had passed since we had raided and gutted Wedgemore Castle. Billige was filling up with Knavesmire's refugees. News that Conrad and Clugney were practically in open war had reached the village. More neews that Sir Roland had closed the gates at Hexham in preparation for a siege had also reached Billige. There was a lot of nervous talk, people were worried and understandably so. It was time to see what was going on at Wedgemore. It was quiet journey through the remote deeps of Caucy forest, a respite of calmness from the chaos unfolding around it. Wedgemore looked as affluent as before, the people looked happy and well fed, farms were well stocked with cattle. The town was quiet, there were a few people about, along with some soldiers. As we watched from the tree line, we saw a group of riders coming into the town from the north road. Three knights garbed entirely in black armour, armed with warhammers headed a retinue of likewise dressed mounted men-at-arms, equipped as they were with axes and flails. These were no English or French knights. I recognised them, the three of them were 'Teutonic knights'. Hailing from north Europe, it was said that they did not follow the knightly code and were shunned by other knights. The few townsfolk and soldiers in Wedgemore cheered as the knights rode in. As they were distracted, we took the opportunity to quietly slip into the village. Then we watched as the riders dismounted and stretched their limbs, their journey at an end. The knights issued orders to two of their men, one small, the other massive. They must have been sergeants for the men-at arms. We also noticed overhead; a pigeon, unusually flying straight to the castle. It had come from the north-east - the direction of Hexham... The three knights went off in the direction of the castle. The men-at-arms headed for The Looted Chapel. We decided to follow the men-at-arms. Inside it was heaving, arrival of newcomers had filled the inn to capacity, so loud we could feel it shaking our guts. The locals were cheering and buying the newcomers drinks. We bought ourselves drinks and listened: - The newcomers, the knights and man-at-arms called themselves 'The Black Company' and they come from Osric's homeland. - They were here to fight the 'unjust king', he was but a boy who did not know his own mind and was looking to reinforce his own power. - Thanks to the 'Magna Carta', it was the Barons who should rule. - Once Wenham has been taken, then Hexham will be next. Caldor approached the smaller sergeant and offered to buy him drink, the sergeant readily accepted. He introduced himself as 'Beorn Ironhand' of the Black Company, he was armed with a large hammer. Beorn explained that he had journeyed far and crossed the sea on an open boat. Summoned here by Osric who was calling in a favour. The journey had been long and tedious, leaving him eager for a fight, he was looking forward to tomorrow. The only 'action' he had enjoyed recently was burning down an inn on the way to Wedgemore, because the look of it offended him. This concerned us, we asked Beorn where the inn had been. Beorn told us it was along the forest road a few miles before reaching Wedgemore. This news did not leave us happy... We also took the opportunity to listen to the general news on the progress of Sir Clugney's efforts against Sir Conrad: - Wedgemore Castle had been gutted by fire. Sir Clugney and his household soldiers now sleept in tents, in a place known as 'The Camp'. - Conrad still holds the bridge. - There are plans to take Wenhan and them Hexham. - They are waiting for 'northerners' to join with Clugney. - The Black Company goes into battle tomorrow. The soldiers would be billeted with towns folk for the night. No one seemed to know who northerners referred to, except that it did not mean The Black Company, they were somebody else? It was time to leave and discuss our next move. We had learnt as much as we could learn in The Looted Chapel. As we left, Randulf turned his head and gave a 'knowing smile' to the massive sergeant, who looked about with confusion! We agreed that our next destination was Wenham, 'northerners' might refer to an attack from the north. We also agreed to detour towards Knavesmire and check on the state of the inn. The journey to Knavesmire was short. The sight that met our eyes was a grim one. The Three Stoats and a Weasel had indeed burnt down. Black smoke still rose from the ruined inn, the fire had been very recent, embers still glowed deep from within the pile of ash. The walls had collapsed in on themselves and only the thickest scorched timbers survived. Even grimmer were the bodies that were strung up along the road. It was a morbid task, but we had to try and identify them. We did not recognise them. Knavesmire was silent, the inn had been the last part of village still standing. Now it was as devastated as the rest. Knavesmire was as much of a corpse as the poor souls along the road. There was nothing else to do but to double back to Wenham. The road could not be trusted these days, so we stayed beneath the shaded cover of the woods and headed west until we reached the Scarmore River, from there we followed it until we got close to the bridge. The furthest reaches of The Forest of Caucy stretched to the bridge to Wenham. This was fortunate as it allowed us assess the situation from within the safe confines of the trees. Conrad still held the bridge, while Clugney's forces, mostly consisting of Gaston's men were camped out a way back from the bridge. There were signs of fighting here, scores of spent arrows dotted the area around the bridge and the span between the warring factions, a number of bodies floating in the river here, caught up against the banks. Clugney's forces lacked the strength to break through the defensive position on the bridge. Meanwhile Conrad's forces lacked the numbers to break out and face Clugney's on the open field. Whilst Conrad's forces were clearly outnumbered, the battle appeared to be at an impasse. At least until tomorrow, when The Black Company waded in. None of this mattered to us right now though, they was no way we could cross the Scarmore here. We had to double back yet again and cross at the westernmost ford in the forest. We knew this part of the forest was roamed by The Crow Folk, but we also knew the forest quite well by now and the location of their settlement. So we quietly moved along the winding trails, cautiously pushing through the thickets and bushes. Pressing on until we heard a shrill scream! Shrill screams were not something that we associated with The Crow Folk, nevertheless we reached for our weapons. Perhaps somebody was in trouble? Listening carefully, we heard the sounds of a petty squabble! This was no Crow Folk, we stepped out of hiding and revealed ourselves. There was an arguing man and woman and some children, the man looked around nervously and the women visibly flinched. They seemed quite fearful, we assured them we meant them no harm. The man introduced himself as 'Thomas Mossman' and his wife as 'Elsbeth'. Their farm north of Little Wenham had been invaded by 'The Peasant's Army' who were travelling to the south to attack The King in London. Thomas said they numbered in the thousands. Thomas and his family had been forced to flee into the forest and had gotten lost. More refugees it seemed. We gave gifted them some coins, gave them directions to Billige and bid them a safe journey. This Peasant's Army had come from the north, could they be the northerners we heard about in Wedgemore? It seemed likely. After the Mossman family headed south, we turned and went north. Without any further mishap or incident we forded the river, exited the forest and marched cross-country. It was the afternoon when we got close to Little Wenham. Across the flat fields and farmlands, families and bands of people were heading southwards, carrying whatever they could as they fled the encroaching enemy. Distant as it was, we could just about make out The Peasant's Army on the horizon. They had stopped for the day in farmland north of Little Wenham in amongst some houses. As Makeshift tents were being erected, the foragers were out looking for supplies, taking whatever food and cattle they could find, breaking into any building they encountered. Calder had experience at soldiering, he estimated their number at three thousand. We headed into Little Wenham wondering if anyone had any further information. Much of it had emptied in expectation of what was to follow. What we did find was small band of Conrad's soldiers, they were desperately trying to fortify the village in a futile attempt to somehow thwart the invasion. 'Sergeant Martin' was the man in charge, he spoke to us whilst ordering his men about their work. Martin explained that The Peasant's Army had been slowly marching south for months. They were being pursued by knights loyal to The King and he hoped to slow them down enough for the knights to catch up. Martin went on to tell us that The Peasant's Army was lead by 'Piers Plowright', if someone was to kill him, it would leave the army in disarray and without direction. After telling Sergeant Martin about the attack coming from the south. He told that he had to stay here, but he would sent message with a fleeing villager to Sir Conrad. Finally he added that it wasn't Sir Clugney that was the true problem, it was his friends. We left Sergeant Martin and his men to it. After a lengthy discussion, we decided that we had to weaken Sir Clugney's position. If Clugney broke through the bridge's defences, he would quickly wreak havoc in Wenhem and be close to defeating Conrad. This meant killing Piers Plowright. It was decided that we would need some poison, so Mopsa and Randulf headed out, over to the Priory. Randulf asked to speak Mother Benevolence, he asked her for some poison to deal with some injured dogs. Mother Benevolence however, was skeptical of Randulf's motives and refused to give him any poison. Mopsa then spoke to Mother Benevolence who took her into the priory, led her into a quiet room and sat her down. Mother Benevolence tried to convince her to leave our band and join her at the priory, Mopsa refused and pressed for the poison. Mother Benevolence asked Mopsa why she wanted the poison so much. Mopsa explained that Clugney had recruited foreign knights in his war against Conrad, the poison was for these knights. "Well, why didn't you say so," replied Mother Benevolence. She then went and gave Mopsa a hemlock potion. She explained that it would be potent against up to half a dozen people. It had reached late in the afternoon and Little Wenham was bathed in the blazing light of a setting sun. The golden hue that warmed the village belied the violent threat from the north. Before going into the 'lion's den' that was The Peasant's Army camp, we waited until was dark. Infiltrating the camp was actually easy, they were an ill-disciplined, rough-looking, haphazard lot; we fited right in! Without guards or lookouts, we could thread our way through the shadows cast by their billowing campfires. No one paid us any attention anyway, they were too concerned with getting comfortable for the night to notice the infiltrators in their own camp. Somewhere is this sprawl of ramshackle tents was Piers Plowright. As their leader, it was likely that he would be somewhere safe, at least somewhere safer than these tents. Numerous farmhouses and outbuildings dotted the campsite, but we could easily see that they were noisy and packed out with sleepers. Plowright was unlikely to be in any of those. There was one small cottage however, that was quieter than the others. Crucially, we saw that there two guards outside the door. This had to be the place. Calder decided he would be the one to sneak in and deal with Plowright. Making sure we stayed out of the guards' views, we cased the cottage's exterior. There was a window at the back. Cautiously, Calder crept in through the window. The inside was shrouded in darkness, a few weak shafts of whitish moonlight played across the interior and he could barely make out four men asleep. Calder looked around; he was trying to discern who might be Piers Plowright when he spotted a smaller mezzanine above. Carefully as he could, Calder climbed up to the gloomy mezzanine. Here was a sleeping man, he was alone. This had to be Plowright. Calder gripped his knife tightly and bent low. Quietly, he slit Plowright's throat. Hopefully with his death, confusion and dissention would be sown amongst his army. Now that the dark deed was done, Calder needed to exit the cottage. Fortunately there was a window on the mezzanine level, Calder opened it and managed to climb down without making a noise. Calder circled back round to us, he moved as silently as a stalking cat; even we, who were on the lookout for him could not hear his approach. Once Calder re-joined us, we successfully escaped the camp. Like spectres we had made our way into and out of the camp unseen and struck at Piers Plowright in the heart of their camp. He was dead and no one in the camp was the wiser. A shining moon hung high in the night sky, there were still hours till dawn and this was no time to rest. It was a hard march south back to Wedgemore. Dim moonlight made for a poor walking guide. The open ground was not challenging, but the inky depths of the forest were not so easily penetrated by those argent rays. Under those heavy shadows we blundered, stumbled and blindly crashed our way through the trees. The noise would've woken the dead, had the dead been foolish enough to cross a forest at night! What seemed an incalculable amount of time must have passed when we eventually broke out of the forest, found the road and continued south. As we neared Wedgemore once more, a rosy, wispy glow in the east promised that dawn would soon be upon us. The bustle of activity at the camp was apparent, even in the murky half-light of the small hours. The location of the three Teutons were known to us, even their tents were black! We had planned to try and poison the the Teutonic knights' food or water supplies before they began their attack. It was clear that Clugney was mustering all his men for a dawn attack against Conrad's defences and alas, it was too late for poisoning. We needed a new strategy and fast! There was no time for subtlety, after a quick confab we came up with a more direct plan. We retreated north, back to the woods close to the bridge, except this time on the southern side of the road and waited, hidden in the foliage with our bows. Little time passed before Sir Clugney led his force along the road. We continued to wait. They stopped short of the bridge and were grouping for their attack. Still we waited, timing was critical. At the head of the group were The Black Company, in the centre were Gaston's and Clugney's men and at the rear were Sir Gaston and Sir Clugney themselves. As we waited, Sir Clugney gave the word and the the advance began. From the soldiers rose a thunderous roar and cheer that almost shook the ground as they began their attack on the bridge. Now that they had committed to the attack and could not afford to pull back, we could strike! The soldiers surged past us at the bridge, as the rear end of the column passed, the four of us loosed arrows at Sir Clugney. He was struck several times and swayed alarmingly in his saddle. The din and clamour of charging men masked our action, we could see Gaston desperately looking amount as he moved forward, but no one spotted us. A second volley was launched at Clugney. He toppled from his horse and hit the ground awkwardly with a resounding crash. some of the soldiers at the back were now shouting and pointing, they had made us out. Sir Gaston was visibly torn, he could not allow his men to advance leaderless. He ordered a squad of men-at-arms to attack us and check on Clugney before wheeling his horse round the bridge and following his men. A group of men-at-arms advanced on us, but we dropped several of them up with our bows and the remainder retreated. We had a moment to breathe and take stock. The noise of battle carried over from the bridge. Not much could be seen over there in the chaotic churn of soldiers, but clearly the defences had collapsed. Soldiers were streaming across the bridge. Turning back to Clugney, four men-at-arms were entirely concentrating on attending the barely moving prone man. The two closest had their backs to us. Conrad, Mopsa and I fired off arrows at them and they both slumped to the ground. At the same time, Randuf charged in yelling, wielding his mace high above his head. As Randulf reached Clugney, the two soldiers, still kneeling stared at him, wide-eyed, mouths agape and empty handed. For the briefest of moments, Randulf made eye contact with both of them. Then, with all his might, swung his mace down on to Clugney's head! Clugney convulsed once, twitched and stopped moving altogether; he was dead, most definitely dead. The two men-at-arms realising the game was up, jumped to their feet and fled. Beyond the bridge, The Black Company had led Clugney's forces into Wenham, the clanging clash of weapons carried over the river, as well as the screaming and the crackling of fire. Thin columns of smoke were beginning to rise. It would be a bad day for Wenham. The morning shadows were long, the sun had cleared the horizon and was brightly dawning on a bloody day. There was nothing else we could do now. We could only hope that the death of Sir Clugney would stall the attack on Sir Conrad. It was time to return to The Badger's Set. It had been a long day, the forced march through the night had taken its toll and we were exhausted. The journey back to our hideout was uneventful. When we arrived, there was a small sliver of good news awaiting us. In our camp were Leopold and his family, as well as Emlyn. They had survived The Black Company's brutal assault on their inn and fled to where so many Knavesmire refugees had gone; Billige. Wat Taylor had been in Billige on some business when he spotted them and bought them to The Badger's Set. They were welcomed to our Band of Badgers. So ended the sixth adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. 12th September 2020 I'm logged into Skype in the living room and it's a Saturday evening. Time for part 5 of Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign. Location: The Forest of Caucy. We had learnt that a column of French knights and soldiers led by Sir Gilbert would be travelling to Wedgemore via The Drumclog Moss road and they would be carrying a lot of money! We knew it was going to be soon, in the next day or two and we wanted that money! After much discussion, we formulated a plan. For this to work we would need the help of our Welsh outlaws as well the foresters from Billige, fortunately, they were more than happy to join our cause. Our plan would involve a two-part ambush at Drumclog Moss. The first step was create some traps in the forest, close to the road. Then we would split into two groups, one large and the other small. The foresters would be the smaller group and lie in hiding next to the traps, further along the road from the rest of us. As the column passed the large group, the forester up ahead would appear on the road, shoot some arrows at the column and run back into the forest Hopefully Sir Gilbert would order a detachment of his men to give chase, then the wily foresters would lead them into the traps. Now that they were distracted and their numbers were lessened, the rest of us in the large group would lunge in and get the money. That was the theory anyway. For now our band consisted of twelve, we left our camp in the morning and travelled to Drumclog Moss without incident. Drumclog Moss was an ancient forest, older than Caucy. The oaks were darker, thicker and more twisted with old roots than ran deep. The bushes and shrubs, denser and somehow more prickly, even the sunlight that shone through its branches seemed weaker. There was an undeniable gloom to the forest, it hung in the air and whispered in the rustling leaves. The south-western edge of the forest had been deforested by Sir Clugney's men for their construction work, the rest however was untouched. The road ran along the southern edge of the forest and that's where we set up our ambush and waited. A few hours passed and the column came past, it was larger than we expected. There were: Seven knights on horseback armed with spears. Two dozen footmen, armed with spear and sword. Thirty heavily laden mules and a equal number of 'civilian' handlers. Truth be told, we hesitated when deciding whether to attack or not; but nothing ventured, nothing gained. We signalled the foresters to do their thing. They stepped out on to the road and loosed some shafts at the column, one of the knights slumped to the ground. Orders were barked in French, three knights and six footmen gave chase. Was it enough? Could we deal with the remainder of the soldiers? Should we go for the money? We were denied our decision suddenly, out of nowhere another band of outlaws from a different part of the forest jumped out of the bushes and swooped down on ropes to attack! Their numbers were large, but they were even more shabby than us. With tattered clothes, they were covered in filth, many of them disfigured or missing limbs. They mostly wielded rudimentary wooden weapons and did not look like much of a match for the professional French soldiers they were attacking. Quickly we assessed the situation: The knights chasing our foresters had baulked at the tree line, aware they would lose their advantage in the trees, they were currently wheeling their horses round to return. The footmen at least had disappeared into the forest. Meanwhile at the column, a sprawling melee had begun, as the entire military company focussed on the battle at hand. Unfortunately as we had surmised, the other outlaws were taking losses and were on the back foot. We saw that the handlers were struggling with the mules. We also saw that eight of the mules were carrying chests. The distraction would not last much longer, it was now or never. We charged in, our plan was simple, there were eight mules and eight of us, one mule apiece. Brandishing our weapons we advanced on the mules and drove the handlers away, some required a 'touch more persuasion' than others it must be said. As we were grabbing our targets, we slapped the other mules, hoping to panic them. Meanwhile the handlers had regrouped, they considered mobbing us, but too late! We had escaped into the forest. Our plan now was to march through the centre of Drumclog Moss to the northern side. Hopefully this would dissuade any and all pursuers. Few were the trails that we trod as they ran their ways through the deep hollows and otherworldly dells. The unaware could easily lose themselves in the quiet gloom here. Fortunately we managed to navigate it without mishap and eventually caught sight of the forest's edge. We stopped here. our next move was to wait for nightfall before returning to our camp. If we were lucky, the hue and cry would have died down by then. A few hours passed uneventfully, but the silence was broken by the distinct crack of a snapping twig. Leaping to our feet, shocked that we had been ambushed; we prepared to fight the soldiers. We were most definitely not expecting who we saw next. There stood a small ragged looking man, covered in sores and infections, he was also letting off an incredible smell. He introduced himself as 'Leaking Sam' a member of 'The Drumclog Few' and that he spoke for their leader 'Hugh the Silent'! Sam politely explained that the mules belong to him. We disagreed, stating that they were ours, we had them, not The Drumclog Few. As we were speaking a giant of man appeared behind Sam, about seven foot tall and carrying a club, we noticed that his ears had been cut off. Sam explained that this giant was Hugh, he led The Drumclog Few with his charisma and leadership. Hugh silently looked at us. Behind Hugh, we saw many more people emerging from behind the shadowed trees, like Sam and Hugh, they were disfigured or sickly and dressed in rags. They may have been named The Drumclog Few, but in number they were many. We noticed amongst the crowd our four foresters held prisoner, they were bound and struggling. It also did not escape our notice that these were possibly the most impoverished people we had met and surely deserving our at least a portion of what we had stolen, they had certainly paid a price for it. We made them an offer of two mules, but Sam refused it. Sam then glanced at Hugh for a few seconds then announced that there would be a contest for the mules. The Drumclog Few champion verses our champion. Hugh pointedly stared at Mopsa. We negotiated the terms of the contest with Sam. In the end we agreed to give five mules to The Drumclog Few and keep two for ourselves, the contest would be over a single mule. Our champion was Randulf, surprisingly their champion was not Hugh, but Sam! Both were given a quarterstaff and the contest began! Sam was quick, surprisingly so in fact and they rapidly exchanged strikes and blows. Randulf's experience held him in good stead here and he managed to land several telling blows on Sam. Who stepped back and yielded, complimenting Randulf on his fighting skills. Everyone applauded. Victory was ours, as was the third mule and the foresters, now freed. With that, The Drumclog Few bid us farewell, slipping away back into the remote part of the forest that they inhabited. Now with three mules, we waited until night finally came and exited the forest. Circling Drumclog Moss, we travelled cross country, avoiding all contact as best we could. Soon enough we arrived at the Drumclog Moss Road, crossing over would be the riskiest part of our journey. Cautiously we watched both ways on the road and had to avoid a torch-carrying patrol before crossing over and returning to camp. Even though it was quite late, we counted our spoils, there were six thousand French coins in all, two thousand per chest. As was fair, we gave one chest to the foresters, who after splitting it four ways were very happy with their haul. We warned them to be careful, flashing around so many french coins around so soon after the ambush might draw suspicion on them. As they sauntered off, they rather unconvincingly told us that they 'would bear it in mind'. We still had four thousand coins to distribute! Morning arrived and we had decided to take a chest of coins to Friar Nicholas in Hexham. The journey was unremarkable, but upon reaching the town gates at mid-morning, we saw more guards posted here than usual. We would need to exercise extra caution with them. Our concern was unfounded and we entered Hexham without a hitch, the guards were barely paying us any attention and were focused on watching the inward bound road . Something was up, was this to do with the ambush? Before going to visit the good friar, we thought it prudent to hear some local news. This of course meant frequenting the local tavern, a reluctant task for all of us. Chat and gossip spread as freely in Hexham as anywhere else, which means to say; it spread a lot! Several rumours and stories were 'doing the rounds': - Lady Margaret was pregnant. - Building work has been undertaken at Knavesmire. Sir Clugney intends to rebuild all the cottages there. - There was an unsuccessful attack on a convoy led by The Drumclog Few. - Drumclog Castle is also being rebuilt by Sir Clugney, once the largest castle in the region, it might be again in days to come. Some of this was not news to us, but the rebuilding of Knavesmire was something we had not heard of until now. Next we sought out Friar Nicholas and handed over a chest of two thousand French coins to disperse as he saw fit. Finally we decided to go and see Lady Margaret. The ring that she had gifted us granted passage to her chambers in Hexham Castle. Lady Margaret was in a foul mood. We asked what vexed her so? She replied that Sir Conrad's patrols were roaming Sir Clugney's lands and picking fights with his men. Sir Conrad had also threatened Sir Roland by sending men into his lands. It seemed to us that Lady Margaret championed Sir Clugney, was cold towards her husband Sir Roland and was contemptuous of Sir Conrad. As she spoke we noticed a new object in her chamber: It depicted a strange little house or cottage with two stones outside it, perhaps it was a shrine of some sort? Although definitely not Christian in origin. Lady Margaret saw us looking at it and explained that it was a gift from Osirc, he had called it a 'lare', a symbol of good luck from his country. As she had told us this, she made the same gesture we had seen from Osric. Whilst looking at the lare, it seemed as if the front of the house might open up...? It was at this point that Lady Margaret distracted us away from it by saying she was busy and ushered us out of her chamber. After our abrupt exit, we looked for Krea. Unable to spot her, we inquired with the other ladies-in-waiting? Krea had been cleaning some curtains in the castle and had fallen out the window, tumbling to her death! "She was flighty, but could not fly." Lady Margaret had commented darkly. Things did not seem right here at all. There was nothing left for us to do in Hexham, so we discussed our next move. The news of construction work at Knavesmire had piqued our curiosity, we also wanted to check in on our friend Emlyn. So, off to Knavesmire we went. We followed the Drumclog Moss road westward until it headed through the forest. A mile or so out of Knavesmire, rising up through the gaps in the trees, we saw a column of curling black smoke, the acrid smell of burning also hung in the air. There was a big fire ahead, it had to be in Knavesmire. Driven by urgency, we quickened our pace and hurried onward. Our arrival was met with what could only be described as a apocalyptic sight. Smoke, thick and black lingered above the village, shrouding it in darkness, the sun had been reduced to a hazy dim orange globe. Walking into Knavesmire was like walking into a hellish red twilight lit by the roaring conflagration that was consuming nearly every house. The heat was immense and our eyes were stung by the smoke, even the maypole was burning Leopold and his family were desperately hurling bucket upon bucket of water on to their inn. Thus far, it had not been reached by the fire. As fast as the fire was spreading, so was the panic. Soldiers in Sir Conrad's colours were here; unbelievably some of them wielded flaming brands and were torching the houses. The remaining soldiers were caught up in a prolonged melee with an enemy dressed in all black! The Crow Folk no doubt, who had emerged from the forest to battle the soldiers. Caught in this crossfire were the hapless villagers, the fighting left them unable to save anything except their lives and even there, they were failing. In between filling and emptying buckets, Leopold managed to tell us that Sir Conrad's men had rode into Knaves mire bearing already lit torches and began setting houses alight. Soon after that The Crow Folk appeared and fighting broke out. Even we were left staggered by what we saw. Who should we help? Conrad's men, or The Crow Folk? Both seemed equally bad. Before long however, the tide of the battle shifted and The Crow Folk began gaining the upper hand. Sir Conrad's men were pushed back and forced to retreat. We found one of Conrad's soldiers left behind, he was badly wounded and in a bad way. We moved him from the burning buildings and bound his wounds as best we could. Before he died, he told us that he had been ordered here and Sir Conrad was 'fighting back' against Sir Clugney. By now The Crow Folk had disappeared and only the villagers remained, hopelessly trying to end the fires. It seemed a lost cause though, even the piles of building materials bought into the village for the rebuilding we had heard about were burning. We helped the villagers extinguish the fires, but the damage had been done. No house had escaped the burning and barely any even still stood. Only the inn had survived untouched - and that because it stood apart from the houses. Knavesmire was littered with the dead and the homeless, these survivors set about the grim task of burying the fallen. After some discussion amongst us, we decided to lead the survivors to Billige. We would give them a thousand coins from the final chest we had 'liberated'. They could use that money to buy lodging in Billige until more housing was built. Hopefully the materials from the Drumclog Castle could be used for this. It did not take the people of Knavesmire long to prepare for the short march, most of their belongings had been reduced to ash. The blackened remains of the village were left behind and it was late afternoon by the time we all reached Billige. Our arrival had stirred quite a commotion as well as unease at the fate of Knavesmire. Still, the people of Billige were generous enough to put up the Knavesmire folk, at least as long as the coins were flowing anyway. It had been a long day, but as late as it was, the day was far from over. Even though we were away from ruined Knavesmire, we were not beyond the reach of Sir Conrad. As the sun sunk behind the western horizon and night was nearly upon us, we spied the approach of riders, closing fast along the trail from the north. With them they carried lit flickering torches, the torches numbered perhaps a dozen and the riders double that. Sir Conrad was brazen to strike so deep into Sir Clugney's domain. The Knavesmires survivors had seen this scene scant few hours before, they fled Billige screaming and running for the shelter of the forest. We knew that there had to be at least a small company of Sir Clugney's men at Drumclog castle, the village's fastest runner was dispatched to fetch them. Meanwhile we told the women and children to flee towards the castle. We did our best to quickly arm any volunteers who remained, luckily the foresters numbered among them. The gloom of night was beginning to settle in, but the rider's torches made for an adequate target for our arrows. We loosed two volleys at them and cut down half their band, our foresters proved their worth here, landing many a telling shot. Their charge faltered and halted, they milled about, unsure of how to proceed. We could not and would not relent, we had to press our advantage and loosed off another volley. The riders turned and fled, we continued attacking. By the time they were out of range, only two of them had escaped. Quickly, we scooped up their weapons and handed them out to the villagers. Swift and emphatic had been our victory, so swift in fact that the reinforcements were nowhere to be seen! When they did arrive, we realised that they were French? Mercenaries? We thought it best to avoid them and melted into the night, only the villagers' accounts of our actions remained. To our camp we returned, a place we had now named as 'The Badger Set'. It had been a long day, but before retiring for the night, we discussed the day's many events. We came to one conclusion: all three of these rulers were corrupt and unworthy. - Sir Clugney was hatching some nefarious plot which involved a foreign power. - Sir Conrad was a thug, plain and simple. - Sir Roland was indifferent to the suffering around him. We decided that all three of them 'needed dealing with and had to go'! On the next morning we awoke with invigorated vigour, driven by our new sense of purpose. Little time was needed in choosing our next course of action: We had denied Sir Clugney sixteen thousand coins! Now was the time to twist that knife in the wound. The journey to Wedgemore was quiet and uneventful. When we arrived, we did not immediately enter; a host of soldiers had congregated in the town. We saw Sir Clugney's tatty household guard, Sir Gaston Chatsworth's men and a company of mercenaries. They were milling about listlessly, waiting for marching orders no doubt. From the outskirts, Wedgemore seemed a prosperous town, well made cottages surrounded a pleasant town square. There was a nice looking inn too, 'The Looted Chapel'. Since this was the seat of Clugney's power, we were thus unsurprised to see one of Osric's maypoles here. Only the church was run down. The irony of the inn's name had not slipped by us. Despite the town's apparent wealth, Wedgemore Castle was as dilapidated as the church or the uniforms on Sir Clugney's men. It had seen better days and was partway through a renovation, woodwork constructions dotted the curtain wall and inner keep, like oaken bandages covering over the castle's failings. The castle itself was relatively small and surrounded by a dry moat. After evaluating the situation, it did not seem dangerous to enter Wedgemore, we were far away from Hexham and Drumclog Moss. Strolling in we noticed a significant number of lares, they were spread throughout the town, by the maypole, the inn and many of the houses. Seemingly identical to the one we had seen in Lady Margaret's chamber, only these were open and the two little statues were 'inside' the house. We also noticed fewer townsfolk about than we would have expected for a town of this size, perhaps they were indoors? Even so. this gathering of soldiers was source of much talk in the town and we easily learnt that Sir Clugney had ordered the 'southern road' from 'The Fork' barricaded, he was mustering forces for a counter attack. In two days hence, Sir Gaston would arrive from the south and they would be ready. We headed into the inn, the innkeeper saw us enter and gave us a 'Roman greeting gesture'. It was an unusual place: the walls were decorated with old, faded paintings that depicted ancient Roman gods and mythical creatures. The floor partially consisted of a Roman mosaic. The innkeeper introduced himself as 'Sestus'. A Roman name he explained, there was a Roman villa here long ago he continued and the inn had Roman heritage. Parts of it had been built with masonry from the villa. Like much of the town, the inn possessed a lare. Sestus saw us look at it, we gave him Osric's gesture and he responded in kind, smiling and satisfied. Having scouted out both the town and castle. We now had a plan in mind and departed Wedgemore; in two days we would be back. For most of these two days we made preparations and gathered our allies before returning to Wedgemore. After we arrived, we waited. Waited until Sir Gaston arrived with another column of troops. They joined the other soldiers here. The next day, at mid morning amongst the blaring of trumpets and flying of flags, the soldiers marched north out of Wedgemore, towards The Fork and war with Conrad. With the soldiers gone, the town seemed almost unnaturally still and silent. Clugney Castle had been emptied of soldiers, we estimated that there were twelve soldiers left. Four on the gate, four on the walls and four on patrol. It was time for the first part of our plan. With our allies we numbered twelve. Eight of us disguised ourselves in Clugney's colours. The remaining four dressed as Conrad's men and their hands were loosely bound, giving the appearance of being much tighter. Now in disguise, we approached the castle gate. There were four guards there and they converged on us. Mopsa stepped forward and explained to the guards that we were returning with four 'prisoners' for the cells. It was a convincing lie, the guards congratulated us on their capture and called for four other guards to escort us to the keep. These guards led us to the grimy, dim cells within the keep and then asked us to hand custody of our prisoners over. Pausing for a moment, we locked eyes with each other before pouncing on the guards. The ambush was successful and we subdued them before they had any opportunity to raise the alarm. We were now free to search the keep unhindered, soon enough we found Sir Clugney's money chest. A sturdy box that was bolted to floor. Opening it revealed a small, shallow layer of coins, only contained seven hundred coins at our estimate. Clugney must really have needed the money we denied him. Seven hundred coins would not last him very long, that didn't stop us taking all of them though! Now that we had Clugney's money, it was time to leave. There was no need for subtlety here, the twelve of us went up to the four guards at the gate and demanded they surrender. Outnumbered three-to-one, they wisely decided not to fight. We then did the same with the remaining four guards on the walls. Then there were no guards. We had considered occupying the castle, the look on Clugney's face would have been exquisite, but it was not to be... Our last act before leaving Wedgemore Castle was to set light to it, the stonework would survive with some damage, but all the wooden additions would be reduced to dust. From the safety of the forest, we could hear the wood crackled as it burned and watched the flames lick the sky. It was a start, we had weakened Clugney, but who knew the strength of his allies abroad? Now we had to wait for the outcome of his battle with Conrad before planning our next step. So ended the fifth outing of The Merry Badgers of Billige. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. 5th September 2020. It's Saturday night and I'm logged on to Skype in my living room. This means it's time for the next chapter Matakishi's in Merry Outlaws campaign. Location: The Forest of Caucy. Some time had passed since we gave half of Sidon Lister's money to the needy and it had been a quiet time. Too quiet for our liking, we discussed matters and decided we would to head out to Billige. We had friends and allies there who might be able to give us news or pass on rumours. Billige was bustling, there were twice as many people in the village than usual. The flow of carts to Drumclog Castle had dwindled somewhat and now they mostly carried food and supplies for the workers and builders. The village folk grumbled and complained, the increase in traffic had driven up the prices of everything. Randulf sought out the foresters he had befriended a few weeks ago and asked them what their thoughts on the situation were? Initially, the foresters were unhappy; the intrusion of Sir Clugney's own foresters had made their activities all the more difficult. However demand for meat and food in general had increased, they had cut a deal with the village pie-maker to supply him with meat for his pies. The pies sold well and they all made a tidy profit from it. Meanwhile, Calder had gone to speak with Alice the herbalist. Ever astute; she wondered where all the money was coming from for all this construction? The materials and the labour? Alice said that she had been to Wedgemore and the town didn't look particularly well off. Sir Clugney just didn't appear to have the wealth to make it all possible. This information was intriguing, but not very helpful. Next, we decided to pay Emlyn a visit and see how his recovery was progressing. Eschewing the forest route, we took the road to Knavesmire, the journey was unevenful. Soon enough we were back in the village, bleak and dismal as we remembered. There was something new here though - a maypole! Osric has been busy. The only ray of light in Knavesmire was the inn, we hurried towards it. The road than ran through Knavesmire was often travelled by people and many of them frequented the Three Stoats and a Weasel. Consequently it was always busy, today was no different. It was chatty, noisy and crowded, looking around, nobody out of the ordinary was here, save for one man. Sitting at a table was a young man, we did not recognise him but he bore Sir Conrad's livery, one of his squires. Our curiosity was piqued, we decided to approach him. Mopsa offered him a drink and some conversation, he seemed suitably amenable. He was plied him with more beer and pies, as always the food here was surprisingly palatable. Once he was sufficiently inebriated, we discovered his name was 'Falkirk'. Leaning in towards us and talking in what he considered hushed tones, he shared some information with us. He said he was on a 'secret mission' for Sir Conrad. We asked him the nature of this secret mission? Falkirk confided that Lady Margaret was now pregnant and was suffering morning sickness, Falkirk went on to say that Sir Conrad had tasked him with delivering 'medicine' to her. This was definitely an interesting turn of events! We asked Falkirk to Elaborate. He told us that he had been instructed to go to the priory at 'Little Wenham', collect the medicine from 'Mother Benevolence' and the 'Sisters of Contentedness', then take it to his sister 'Krea'. She was a lady-in-waiting for Lady Margaret. Krea would then 'surreptitiously' give the medicine to Lady Margaret in one of her drinks. Mother Benevolence was a person I recognised. She was not known much as a healer, however she did reputedly supply lethal poisons to be applied to the nearly dead to 'help them on their way'! It was fair to say that our suspicions were raised. Next we asked Falkirk why this was done secretly? Falkirk paused for a moment, clearly considering his words. He said that Lady Margaret was a little 'strange' and believed in the 'old ways'. Sir Conrad had insisted that it would be unlikely that she would want to take this medicine willingly, so it had to be given secretly. Falkirk said she was too young and beautiful to be a witch obviously. He added that he didn't believe that Sir Roland knew any of this. We then asked why would Sir Conrad become involved in this? Falkirk replied, "Sir Conrad is doing his Christian Duty,". Finally Falkirk explained to us that he had first taken medicine to Lady Margaret a week ago, this was to be his second delivery. By now Falkirk was well and truly drunk, loudly cheering Roland and Conrad to the other patrons whilst cursing Clugney. He seemed to be attracting quite a few sideways glances! Eventually he slumped face first on to the table with a thump, a few seconds later he began loudly snoring. Putting his feet up, we moved him into a better sleeping position and while doing this, we slyly searched him, making sure no one else here noticed our actions. We found a phial, it contained a curious looking liquid. We obviously needed someone with the appropriate knowledge to examine it. The choice was obvious; Alice the herbalist. We made a request of 'Leopold', the inn's proprietor and he provided us with a watertight container, into which we poured this liquid.The phial was re-filled with ordinary water and slipped back into snoring Falkirk's possession. It was time to head back to Billige. Upon leaving the inn, we heard a momentary whistling sound. Faster than we could think, a volley of arrows struck us! We were ambushed! Peppered with arrows, we dived into cover, these were black feathered shafts. Crow Folk! How had they known we were here? Cautiously, we peered out of cover and there they were: Across the road from the inn, skulking in the shadowy places between the small houses. and hiding behind corners were eight Crow Folk. We returned fire from cover. Except Randulf; who of course chose to run yelling across the street at them, pumping his fists and waving his mace as he did so. I think he considered it a greeting of sorts? He laid into them fiercely and Calder landed arrows with uncanny accuracy. Mopsa and I managed to also lay into them with our bows. We had sustained some injuries ourselves, but in the end the Crow Folk had been dealt with, save one who Randulf chased, tackled to the ground and took prisoner. Searching their bodies, we found nothing of note on them but for some coins. Once we were done with them, we left them to the villagers who came and stripped them of all remaining possessions. The bodies were taken away, no doubt to feed the pigs! There was a prisoner to question now. He told us little, he did admit that there were spies in Knavesmire - not a surprise to us, but he did not know who it was. He had been dispatched here directly from their camp in the forest. we let him go with a good kick up the arse! As he fled into the forest, I shouted. "Tell the brothers that we're coming for them. And we're going to send them to hell!". Now that it seemed safe, we set out for Billige and arrived without mishap. After finding Alice, we handed the liquid over to her and she agreed to examine it. It did not take long, but we took the opportunity to recuperate a little. Alice came back and informed us that the liquid was a 'hemlock preparation' - poison. Someone was trying to poison Lady Margaret. Could it be Falkirk? He had the opportunity to switch the medicine for poison. He was also quite open about his role in this. The poisoner would not be so forthcoming. He seemed an unwitting accomplice. In our minds there were two suspects. Was it Sir Conrad? Had he asked Mother Benevolence to provide a poison to administer to Lady Margaret? Or was it Mother Benevolence? Had Sir Conrad asked her to provide medicine and she instead switched it for poison? Conjecture was pointless, we needed to investigate. The priory at Little Wenham would be our first call. Before heading out, we took a diversion to our camp and collected the monk and nun outfits. We set out for Little Wenham and decided to avoid the roads. We little desire to be ambushed twice in one day. After leaving the southern half of The Forest of Caucy, we followed the track and forded the River Scarmore, once again passing Watt's burnt out cart. From here we walked into the northern part of the forest, fairly certain that we would not be hindered by The Crow Folk were concentrated on the other side of the river. Our plan was to head westward and cross through the forest to arrive at Little Wenham. Despite my knowledge of the forest, we lost our way! It turned out that there were few to no paths or trails that travelled the deepest, quietest and shady parts of the forest. There was however, an abundance of greenery and shrubs to hinder our passage, branches and bushes to snag our clothes and roots to trip our feet. With no path to follow we stumbled and blundered clear of the forest. After we took stock of our bearings, we realised that we were north of the forest instead of west. We marched cross country towards the afternoon sun until the shadows lengthened, the day cooled and darkness was beginning to creep up behind us; it was nearly dark when we reached the road and Little Wenham. It appeared to be a well-to-do and respectable town, houses were clustered round the church, a gibbet sat in the town square and there was of course, a priory. It was very unlikely that we were known here, we could safely pass through. Before approaching the priory, Calder, Mopsa and Randulf assumed their disguises. We decided to present ourselves as travellers in need of a place for the night. The priory was a sturdy stone building with an equally sturdy heavy wooden door. A minute after knocking, an eye appeared at the small viewing panel, taking the measure of us. A woman's voice asked us our business? We explained that we were travellers in need of shelter for the night. The eye turned to face me and asked who was I? I explained that I was their guide. There was truth to that. Our answers seemed satisfactory, the eye disappeared and the door opened. A nun was here and we were granted entry. With a lowered voice she explained that we would be given an evening meal and taken to our rooms for the night. Inside the priory there was an air of quiet calmness, our footsteps sounded uncomfortably loud as we walked down the sparsely decorated stone corridors. Before were taken to our meals and as politely as possible we requested a meeting with Mother Benevolence. The nun turned to us and revealed that she was who we were looking for. We asked the Mother Benevolence if she had supplied medicine for Lady Margaret. She was quite taken aback and surprised, she did not know what we were talking about? Perhaps this required a slightly different approach. So we asked her if she any given any medicine to Sir Conrad's squire, Falkirk? She had not, but she had given him poison! This was surprising We asked Mother Benevolence to tell us more. She told us that the poison was for some of Sir Conrad's hunting dogs that needed to be 'put down'. Mother Benevolence went on to explain that this request had come directly from Sir Conrad when they both attended the Feast of Saint Beatrice last week. We thanked Mother Benevolence and retired to our rooms. It seemed that we possibly had an answer. Sir Conrad was using Mother Benevolence to produce poison, using Falkirk to deliver it in the guise of medicine and using his sister to unwittingly administer it secretly. It was an impressively elaborate plan, but what did he gain from the death of Lady Margaret? We could not consider moving against Sir Conrad, not at least directly. He was too powerful and too influential. Instead we decided to seek out Lady Margaret and warn her. Morning came and streaks of dawn sunlight blazed through the windows, we woke to our cool stone rooms lit by a hues of gold. We rose and dressed; simple as it was, it had been sometime since we had slept in accommodation such as this. Morning in the priory was as equally subdued as evening, the sisters went about their chores with a quiet busyness and spoke in hushed voices. After breakfast, we gave our thanks, took our leave and headed for Hexham. The journey to Hexham required trekking east back across the countryside, following along the northern perimeter of The Forest of Caucy. It was a quiet trip, there were no settlements close by and we did not encounter a single soul during our march. Now that the flow of traffic through Hexham had lessened, the guards would be more vigilant. As expected, we were stopped and questioned. Mopsa spoke for us and we were allowed entry. Hexham Castle was open on the ground floor, but in order to reach Lady we had to get past the guards and go up to the first floor. Mopsa was on top of things and persuaded the guards that we were here to see Lady Margaret on important business. We climbed the stairs to her quarters once again. Outside her door was the same lady-in-waiting we encountered during our last visit. She seemed confused when we explained that we were here to see Lady Margaret. It took some convincing to allow us to pass. We entered Lady Margaret's chambers, she immediately recognised and greeted us, once the pleasantries were dealt with, she announced to us that she was 'with child'. Discreetly, we informed Lady Margaret that we had uncovered a plot to poison her during her morning sickness. She was aghast that we knew about her morning sickness. Pressing on, we explained that it seemed that Sir Conrad had concocted a scheme whereupon poison was delivered in the guise of medicine to one of her ladies-in-waiting who secretly and unwittingly administered it to her by Krea. It transpired that Krea was the woman outside her door. Lady Margaret thanked us for our help, she remarked that it was the second time we had provided her with assistance and she was grateful. She then provided us with a ring, with this ring we could gain access to her at any time. Before leaving, there was one question we needed an answer for: Why had Sir Clugney been credited with the return of her wedding gown. "Dear little Clugney," commented Lady Margaret. She went on to explain that she had seen him so unfairly bullied by Sir Conrad that she felt that sorry for him and took the opportunity claim that Clugney had returned the dress so that Sir Roland would reward him. With that, we took our leave. One question was answered and another took its place. Why had Lady Margaret chosen to help Sir Clugney? Her reason did not sit well with us. We were leaving Hexham Castle when we passed a knight with a small retinue entering, we could see their horses had been driven hard to get here. The knight caught our eye, his livery was 'lozengy argent and gules', it was a livery I recognised as belonging to 'Sir Gilbert of Gascony', a French knight. Gascony? The King's brother-in-law, 'de Montford' ruled in Gascony, rumour had it he was planning a revolt against The King. Why was a knight from Gascony here? We also recalled that Lady Margaret called Gaston, was there a connection? Cautiously we shadowed Sir Gilbert, he went to Lady Margaret's chamber as we expected. Krea was still at the door, we could not hope to eavesdrop with her there. We knew that she might be easily distracted, so Randulf entertained her with a few coin tricks while the rest of pressed our ears against the door. Voices were muffled, but we picked up some of a conversation. Sir Gilbert stated that he had arrived with 'the money'. Lady Margaret stated that he should take it straight to 'him' at Castle Wedgemore. Sir Gilbert replied that he would meet up with his men who were behind him and take it to Wedgemore via the 'Drumclog Moss Road'. With that, we left. This raised more questions. Who was 'him'? It seemed logical that it might be Sir Clugney, but why were they helping him even more? Was the money to pay for the rebuilding of Drumclog Castle? What did they hope to get out of it? If it was someone else in Wedgmore, who could it be? Osric? In truth none of the questions mattered, all that mattered was that it appeared that a sizeable amount of money that was coming down the Drumclog Moss Road, money that we meant to to take! The road that Sir Gilbert would take would lead him through The Forest of Caucy, north of our camp. It was time to plan an ambush. So ended the fourth adventure of The Merry Badgers of Billige. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. 31st August 2020 It's a bank holiday Monday and we're round Vicky's. It's time for Matt's fortieth and concluding session of 50 Fathoms. Location: at port. Several weeks had passed since the defeat of Torquemada and we had returned to a safe harbour. Now we were fully rested and our ships were in 'fighting condition'. We knew that we soon had to face the sea hags. Then one night I had a strange dream that I half-remembered. Speaking with the crew I would soon discover that all of us had experienced a similar event. A yound girl appeared in the dream, perhaps eight to twelve years old. - There was an overwhelming sense of peace when we saw her. - There was a feeling that we were ready. - We had to go to the Devil's Cross. - We had to sail over where King Amemnus' castle used to be. - The water from another world had to be poured into the sea over the castle. - Then the sea hags had to be named. - The fight with the enemy would not be an easy one. Gathering what allies we had, we set sail for the centre of The Flotsam Sea, for The Devil's Cross, the heart of the vortex. As we left harbour, we spoke with Califax and instructed him to contact our allies at Bluth's Crown and other places, to fly far and wide, to spread the word; now was the time to defeat the sea hags. It took a month of sailing to reach the edge of The Flotsam Sea, when we arrived, we found a dozen ships waiting for us. Califax was among them. After communicating with their captains, we learned that they too had recieved 'strange messages' telling them to come to The Flotsam Sea. Califax admitted that he had nothing to do with any of this, the ships had already set sail before he reached any of them. Our fleet contained representations of all the people of Ograpog, from Atani to Scurillions. This was a thing that affected everybody. The fleet set sail for The Devil's Cross and the fate of Ograpog. The closer we sailed, the rougher the seas became. We pushed on through the ever worsening storm and churning water until our eyes were met with a staggering sight. Ahead, through the lashing rain and howling gale we could see that storm had intensified. It had intensified to such a degree that it had whipped up a visible tumultuous wall of wind and water. A wall so vast it stretched across the entire horizon. This was no ordinary storm. There was no turning back thought, so we sailed directly into this tempest. In the moments it took to pass into this wall, it was like we had sailed into another world. The sky had grown dim akin to the onset of twilight, the sun lost to sight behind the calamitous weather. What had been rough going new became savage and brutal. Before we had to work to maintain our footing, now the crew was flung around like a child's toys. The only way to stay on deck was to tether yourself to the ship. I lost sight of all the other ships as we lurched up and down on the rolling waves. We could only concentrate on navigating our way. Our ship was battered unyieldingly for three hours upon which time, the storm abruptly abated. Behind us was the furious storm wall, we had made it through. Ahead the sea was calmer, but it was still raining and the sky was still grey. Looking around, I saw that other ships were also making it through, however in total two ships had been lost. We sailed on. Soon we reached the spot that we surmised was the location of the castle and The Devil's Cross Despite the miserable skies above, the waters below were curiously clear and gleaming. Then we saw it, the castle was there, it was bathed in an eerie, almost sinister green glow. Without any pomp or ceremony, from aboard The Delilah we took the barrel of Earth water and poured it into The Flotsam Sea. "Mala Mallus, Maka Mallus, Mana Mallus," we named the sea hags. There was an echoing voice aboard The Delilah. "You have called us from the depths, my sisters come," spoke the voice.
The voice had come from a young girl who was somehow aboard The Delilah, sickly looking and dressed in tattered, worn clothes, she looked nine years old. She was the girl from our dreams - 'The Maiden'. A moment later she vanished from the deck. Whilst we were left pondering what had just occurred, a patch of the sea to the port side of our fleet began bubbling, then bubbling appeared to the starboard side. Finally it started to bubble to the aft. From these three spots we watched as the sea seemed to explode! Vast amounts of seawater were sent skyward to come crashing down on the fleet. Then three vast shapes, the three sea hags, the three sisters emerged from the ocean. With slick grey, rotting and hanging skin, inky black hair and watery eyes, rising to their full height they towered above us and even the ships. They turned to us and mocked us with rasping, gravelly voices. Then they vowed to kill us all. The battle had begun. Win had the archmage's heart, she took it out of its jar and squeezed as heard as she could. It exploded in energy and gore, showering Win in slick. All the elementalists felt an endless, indescribable energy flow through them, saturate them. An energy they could tap into to power their spells for the next seventeen minutes. Two of the sea hags attacked with lightning and one with her giant fists. They targeted the ships, smashing hulls, crushing decks and splintering masts. We returned fire with cannons. Aboard The Herodica my crew blasted at them with our cannons and I attacked with my pistol. Every shot I fired hit it's mark, but none of them could harm the sea hags. At least my crew had better luck, wounding one of the sea hags. Aboard The Delilah, Shia ordered the ship closer to the enormous sea hags. Shia wielded L'Ollonaise's sword, it was a powerful weapon and she found within herself strength she did not believe existed. Shia attacked furiously with all her might, most of her blows had no effect, but some struck true. Between the cannon fire and her attacks, the first of the sea hags fell. Baxter was also aboard The Delilah, he used her cannons to great effect and killed a second sea hag. Meanwhile, Rufus had dived into the sea and approached a sea hag from underwater. From here, he could see how vast the sea hags were, their lower torso and legs stretching down into the depths. They were large enough to actually stand on the seabed fifty fathoms below. Rufus wielded The Sword of Amemnus, the blade gave him great advantage against giant-sized enemies, which he put to good use. Rufus was stabbing at the legs of the final sea hag. Up above, we concentrated cannon fire on the hag and Shia manoeuvred The Delilah close and attacked as well. In the end, the final sea hag falls to Rufus' blows. All the sea hags were dead, their giant forms had collapsed into the sea. It was over. The stormy weather dissipated, the sea calmed and the rain died off. The Maiden reappeared on The Delilah, her tattered clothes replaced with prison clothes, she was Mara Mallus, the fourth and youngest daughter of King Amemnus and one of the sea hags' early victims in their grasp for power. In the sky above, black clouds were dispersing and the sun seemed to shine down on Mara. She smiled, turning her face to the sun. "Your quest is almost done," Mara told us. "I am sorry I had to pull you here from your own worlds, if you sail north and dream of home, you will return there. Now I must deal with my sisters," with that Mara stepped off the ship and sank into the depths. Below us was the remains of King Amemnus' castle. We did what all good sea-folk would.. and looted the hell out of it. Sending down the Rufus and Rackham to scour the ruins for treasure before making off. The day had been hard fought and won, we deserved a rest. Night would soon be upon us and the now gentle waves caught the last of the day's golden light. It was time to leave and we followed the setting sun. Even though those of us from elsewhere had been given the option to return home, this was our home now, and who knew. There might be more adventures to have. Perhaps? 29th August 2020 Saturday night has come around again and I'm sitting in the living room, logged into Skype. It time for the next chapter in Matakishi's Merry Outlaws campaign. Location: Billige. One short week ago, we had retrieved and returned the wedding gown of Lady Chatsworth. In this short week, news of some significant events were bought to our attention. Firstly a poster had appeared in Billige and no doubt elsewhere as well: A proclamation declaring us as outlaws by the Sheriff of Hexham! Secondly: A second proclamation had been distributed, announcing the upcoming holiday, 'The Feast of Saint Beatrice' and declaring that at the same time there would be the public execution of Emlyn the carter! Also by the sheriff. So we had been declared outlaws. The reasoning was beyond us. It must have had something to do with the return of the gown? No good deed goes unpunished! Emlyn too had suffered at the hands of the sheriff, he also had been declared an outlaw. Today was Monday and his execution was scheduled for Saturday during the feast. Emlyn had to be rescued. Before we could do anything, we needed to go into Hexham to get 'the lie of the land'. First though, we headed into Billige and see if any other news had travelled this far south. It was a short march, but we were stopped in our tracks as we reached the outskirts of Billige. Something was happening in the village. A loose, trickling procession of carts and waggons was continually plodding its way along the track that ran through Billige and going on their way to the ruins of Drumclog Castle. They were carrying stone and wood, as well as workers. A number of makeshift traders and sellers had also popped up, hoping to peddle their wares to the passing carts We had to use some caution entering Billige now, we might be recognised and it was busier than expected. After speaking with a villager, it appears that a lot can happen in a short week. The Earl of Hexham, Sir Roland had gifted the ruined Drumclog Castle and surrounding lands to Sir Clugney, this included Billige and hunting rights in Drumclog Moss. This was rewarded to Sir Clugney for returning Lady Margaret's wedding gown! Since we had returned the gown, we wondered what the story was behind this? These carts that were trundling through Billige were carrying supplies to rebuild old castle. Foresters had also been dispatched to the southernmost part of The Forest of Caucy to gather supplies. We realised that this 'gift' now gave Sir Clugney more land and possessions than Sir Conrad. It might have represented a shift in power? We had seen Sir Conrad was more than happy to spit out orders at Sir Clugney when he felt like it. How did he feel about this? One last thing we noticed was that Osric from Knavesmire was now here and was in the process of constructing a pole in the centre of Billige, it looked much like a maypole. After speaking with Osric, he confirmed that he was indeed constructing a maypole. He stated that it would make the people of Billige more fertile to provide his lord with more vassals. Osric continued; he hoped to put Billige 'on the map' and that perhaps some of the traders who set up in the village to exploit the passing trade would stay and make Billige larger. Billige might never challenge Hexham in size, but might grow as large as Wenham. With that, Osric took his leave, giving us the strange gesture we had seen used in Knavesmire. There was nothing left to do in Billige, it was time to go to Hexham. We headed north along the path, forced to avoid the heavily laden carts going south. After a while we came to the crossroad, it was there that we spotted Watt Taylor. He waved at us and hurried over, loudly and conspicuously commentating that we had been named as outlaws! Watt was very fidgety and nervous, he went on to explain that Emlyn had been arrested by the town guards, taken to the tower at 'The East Gate' and tortured until he named us. Watt went on to tell us that he feared that 'he was next', that the guards would come for him. We assured Watt that we would make sure he was not arrested. Watt decided to accompany us the Hexham, he was as safe with us as anywhere else. Continuing north along the road, we encountered even more carts heading south, soon we arrived at Hexham. It turned out that the constant flow of carts heading towards Drumclog Castle had been making their way south through Hexham, the town had become busier than normal as a result. This did not stop the guards from questioning us and our purpose for coming into Hexham though. "Trading," was our reply and this seemed enough to satisfy the guards, however they still eyed us with suspicion. We were all carrying weapons of a kind. I tried to keep my sword concealed in the folds of my cloak, but they still spotted and confiscated it. They informed me that I could collect it when I left and asked my name? "Derek Bigsby," I replied without missing a beat! Mopsa tried to steal the sword back, but the guards were on their toes and even before she made a move they were watching her. She decided against trying for the sword. Hexham was always a busy place, nosily bustling with townsfolk and traders going about their business whilst hawkers plied their wares. The carts rolling through town had only worsened the situation. We allowed Watt to lead us to his shop, but stopped short of it. Watt's fears had not fallen on deaf ears and we had suspicions of our own. Taking our time, we scanned up and down the street in front of Watt's shop. Then we saw them, they were nestled in the shadow of a small alleyway and they were watching Watt's shop. They may have been dressed as typical townsfolk, but they clearly had the bearing of town guards. Watt lived with his wife and two children in their home situated above their shop. He told us that in his absence 'Malkyn' his wife ran the shop. Even though we were wanted men, it was unlikely the guards would recognise our faces, we were not known in Hexham. So we sent someone in to speak with Malkyn. Unfortunately, Malkyn did not provide us with any information that we did not already know. Upon returning from the shop, we became aware that a well dressed man was speaking with the disguised guards and pointing directly at us with a smug grin across his face! We had been made, either we had been recognised or Watt had. It didn't matter who right now, the result was the same: We had to run. And run we did, or at least most of us. The guards raised the alarm that we were outlaws and townsfolk from the crowds grabbed at us. Calder, Mopsa and Randulf managed to give escape. The crowd quickly caught Watt. I grabbed a nearby cloak and whipped it on, hoping to give them the slip, but alas I too was captured. As Watt and I were dragged to the town guards, Watt told me that he recognised the well dressed man. "His name is 'Sadon Lister', Master of The Dyer's Guild," Exclaimed Watt. "I thought he was a friend!". Evidently not! We were taken to the guards who marched us off to a guard tower. From there we were taken into the basement, relieved of all our possessions and flung into a cell. The cell had no windows, save for a small hatch in the sturdy wooden door, there was no toilet and the cell stank. Emlyn was here, sprawled awkwardly on the floor. His face was pale and he looked in a bad way. He explained that someone had seen us giving the money to him and even though he had given up our names, the guards had still tortured him. We were probably next. Unbeknown to me, the others were formulating a plan to rescue us. They had learned that we had been taken to the East Gate and decided to try and disguise themselves to break us out. They returned to Watt's shop and spoke to Malkyn, she of course agreed to help and had access to a lot of clothing. Calder and Randulf disguised themselves as monks and Mopsa disguised herself as a nun. A master plan! What could go wrong? So a little later, the three of them arrived at the East Gate and spoke with the guard on duty and said that they were here to see the prisoners. The guard looked hesitant, then Mopsa explained that they were her to provide Emlyn with succor prior to his execution. The guard was convinced, Mopsa always had a way with words. They were led down the spiralling staircase into the basement and granted access to the cell. On their way in they had counted six guards in total. They also saw Sadon Lister, who was here to receive a reward for Watt's capture. I was surprised when two monks and a nun entered the cell, I can't say I wasn't happy to seem them. The guard informed them that he would be outside, they should knock when they wanted to leave and the cell door was locked behind them. Inside the cell, I was passed a knife that they had concealed. Time was of the essence, so we hammered on the door to call the guard over, he opened the door. We ambushed him and he went down quickly and quietly. Emlyn was too weak to walk properly, so we got Watt to help move him. We then left the cell. Next, we called down the other guards, when the first one entered the basement, he was attacked and soon fell to our blows. The remaining guard backed up the stairs, Randulf lunged for the attack, the stairs were narrow and only two people could fight. Meanwhile I collected my belongings. I wasn't going anywhere without my 'bawdy poem' and 'needle and thread'! Randulf had dispatched another guard and pressed the attack, by now the remaining three guards had retreated out of the stairway and into the room above. Sadon Lister was also here, he fled screaming as the melee spilled into the room. The rest of us swarmed up the stairs. Above, one guard faced off against Randulf and the other two reached for crossbows. We charged in and fighting ensued. Soon enough, two guards were out of the fight. There was one guard left standing and four of us. We menaced him and he knew better than to try and attack. We turned and fled into to the streets. Hexham was not safe for us, we needed to leave. Watt would soon be declared an outlaw, that would put his family at risk. With as little fuss as possible, we collected Emlyn's cart and horse and put Emlyn on it. Next we went to Watt's shop. We collected his wife, children and some of his stock and piled it all into the cart. Now we had to leave Hexham. Watt simply walked out past the guards, he had not been named an outlaw! We decided to join the many carts that had been passing through the town. It worked, nobody paid us any attention. We were just another cart carrying goods bound for Drumclog Castle as far as the guards were concerned. Now that we were out of Hexham, we had to decide our next step. Emlyn was now an outlaw, soon Watt and his family would also be outlaws. Emlyn needed convalescence, it did not seem practical to do this at our camp. Emlyn told us that he could trust the people who ran The Three Stoats and a Weasel at Knavesmire. So we took Emlyn there and used his cart to transport Watt and his family as close to our woodland camp as we could before returning it to Emlyn. Our band had grown in size by five! Back at our outlaw camp, we considered our next step. Sir Clugney had clearly done something unfairly reap the rewards for recovering the gown. It was possible that Lady Margaret was involved, although it was hard to imagine how she benefited from this? Going after Clugney or Lady Margaret would be risky, too risky. Sadon Lister was a different story, his betrayal of Watt had earned him a reward. It was time that everybody should share in this reward. Luckily for us, Watt knew his exact address, on 'Dye Street' no less. We waited two days until the Wednesday to allow the situation to calm down before the four of us set out for Hexham once again. Our previous foray into the town had informed us that carts laden with stone were passing out of the Hexham through the south gate and coming into Hexham via the north gate. This stone was being quarried from a place known as 'The Devil's Cut'. Entry into Hexham would be easier through the north gate, the guards could ill afford to spend much time questioning or checking travellers entering without clogging up the traffic. This meant going round to the northern side of Hexham and back up the track to where we had first encountered The Crow Folk. Fording the River Scarmore, we passed the blackened remains of Watt's cart. From there we skirted the forest until we reached the northern side of Hexham and made our to the north gate. Unfortunately, even the best laid plans can fail at the hands of luck: Whilst there was much traffic entering Hexham through the north gate, we were still stopped and questioned. Mopsa however stepped up and firmly gave a good reason why we were coming to Hexham. It was good enough for the guards and we were in! From there we headed to Dye Street. It was well named as it was the home of all of the town's dyers and it also Stank! It reeked of the stuff used to make dyes, the smell was strong enough to make the layman cover his mouth. Since Sadon Lister was the dyer's guild master, it was the guild house that we were looking for and found. The guild house was the largest building on the street and was afforded some embellishment as was fit for its station. The facade contained a sturdy closed door. We did not feel that the direct approach was wise here. Instead we took an alleyway to the rear, there was a busy courtyard here. Calder quickly ran off and grabbed a couple of dead rabbits from somewhere and came back, he had a plan. Calder went into the kitchen and spoke with the cook and convinced them to buy the rabbits. Calder also took the opportunity to give a lengthy explanation on how he had caught them. Whilst the cook was distracted by Calder, the remaining three of us picked up some crockery - hoping to look like staff as we slipped past and into the building. Once past the kitchen and into the corridors, the ground floor felt quiet, we could hear voices in the rooms close by. We discretely searched the floor and it was clear that the ground floor served as offices for the guild. The living quarters had to be upstairs. We climbed the stairs and listened for signs of occupancy and heard a muffled conversation, one of the voices belonged to Sadon Lister. Unhesitatingly, Mopsa walked into the room. As well as Sadon, there was a man all in black seated in the room, he wore a black hood and an elaborate stylised crow shaped black mask. One of the Crow Folk. Not recognising her, Sadon assumed that Mopsa was a servant and ordered her to get out. Mopsa flung a plate at Sadon and it hit him square in the face, shattering. "By dose," Sadon exclaimed! We steamed into the room. Randulf leapt for the Crow Folk and grappled him, he was easily overpowered. I brandished a dagger at Sadon and he stood there silently dumbfounded, holding his nose. We closed the door and bound the two men. First we turned to Sadon and demanded he tell us how much his reward had been for turning in Watt. "One hundred and fifty coins," came the reply. "But the sheriff has not paid it, he is always slow in paying his dues," added Sadon. Next we asked him where his money was, he nodded at a chest in the corner. The chest contained seventeen hundred coins, we turned to Sadon and said we would take half - eight hundred and fifty coins, plus the one hundred and fifty for the reward he was due from the sheriff. This was a grand total total of one thousand coins. Our attention turned to the Crow. "I am Edward Crow," he proclaimed. "Let me go and we'll remain 'friends'". Well, that answered my first question. He was one of three crows, the three crow brothers. We searched him and removed a pair of black daggers, his black hooded cloak had the elaborate mask sown into it. He also carried a staff and some black feathers which we also took. Finally he had a bag of ninety coins. We asked him about the money? "Payment for turning in Emlyn," Edward Crow replied. We took the coins. "That was a mistake, we're enemies now and you'll regret that," he said intently, his face darkening,". Edward Crow had threatened us, we had to decide what to do with him, we considered leaving him, but he would most likely seek retribution against us. There was a reward on his head and we considered turning him in somehow. But we did didn't know deep the rot went in Hexham, Crow might escape or 'be released'. Randulf had no patience for this discussion, he went up to Edward crow and twisted his head violently, breaking his neck and killing him. It might have seemed 'rough justice' and in truth it was: It also true that The Crow Folk killed and tortured indiscriminately. Last week we had witnessed this first hand when they slaughtered Watt's guards and left him hog-tied above a fire. So it was that Edward Crow had met his fate. Finally, I went back to Sadon. I pulled his trousers down and stuck three feathers in his backside. It was a message, a message to Sadon; to not fraternize with The Crow Folk and a message to The Crow Folk; we were not afraid of them. There was no longer a reason for us to remain here, we left Sadon Lister bound and gagged, returning downstairs and back to the kitchen. Quite impressively, Calder was still there talking away about rabbits! After we slipped back out into the courtyard, Calder made his excuses and rejoined us. It was not wise to tarry in Hexham, Sadon would not remain bound forever. We joined with the carts exiting south out of the town and managed to get away unchallenged. Our return to our camp was free of incident. We had more questions now. What was the relationship between The Crow Folk, the Sheriff of Hexham and Sadon Lister. How far did this go? Was Sir Roland aware of this? What was their relationship with Knavesmire, Osric and Sir Clugney? There were over a thousand coins to be distributed. We gave the lion's share of them to Friar Nicholas to pass out. Our camp was growing and the remainder went to its upkeep. So ended the third escapade of 'The Merry Badgers of Billige'. The Ballard of Calder Winterbourne 'Mouse Eater'It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’‘It is unclear where or when the ‘Ballad of Calder Winterbourne’ originated. No copy exists with provenance earlier than the mid-fifteenth century (and that only a fragment). It is likely that early versions have been adapted by others over the centuries and sections re-written or entirely new text added, perhaps to add contemporary references, incorporate unrelated fragments or cover situations likely to be familiar to new, later readers. There is, for example, an oblique reference to a possible act of enclosure in the prologue, which must either be a poor transcription or later addition to a supposedly ‘medieval’ text. No reference to Calder Winterbourne exists in the historical record and it is therefore likely that, if he ever existed, his story has been greatly embellished or his tale is a combination of several stories combined in a convenient narrative thread.’ The Ballard of Mopsa Hiems 'Mopsacle'Rumble rumble in the village The Ballard of Randulf The RedStand and listen gentlefolk The Ballard of Black StanFine Alice from Billige, accused. |
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