Free Betrayed by Christopher Dinsdale Page A

possessions of war. Chain mail jingled as they hoisted the heavy armour over their heads. Roars of war rang through the hall as warriors crashed their heavyswords against their scarred shields. They donned their helmets and lashed curved metal plates onto their shins and forearms. Connor and Angus eagerly watched the raucous, jovial crew they had come to know and respect transform into a battalion of intimidating warriors. The Great Hall quickly emptied as the fighters made for the harbour. The boys hurried as well to their straw mattresses, lifted their bo sticks from the floor and turned for the front gate. A pair of strong hands grabbed them from behind.
    â€œNot so fast,” commanded a voice.
    Surprised, the boys turned to see Sir Rudyard staring down at them, his large frame wrapped in full combat armour.
    â€œYou will stay here at Kirkwall while we go and deal with the bishop. He is only an hour sail away. His castle lies around the far point of the island. With a little luck, we should be back by sunset.”
    â€œBut father,” protested Angus, “we’re ready! We can help Prince Henry in battle! You have seen our training!”
    He smiled. “And that is why we need you here, son. You do not yet know the full extent of Prince Henry’s master plan. Because of his plan, our knights have been spread out quite thin, to the point where the prince is concerned about our preparedness for an attack against Kirkwall Castle itself. If the majority of us leave the sea fortress in order to take part in this raid, the castle could be vulnerable. We need the two of you here, just in case there is unexpected trouble. We need you to keep your eyes open for any Trojan horses. Do you understand?”
    â€œAye, sir,” they muttered, disappointed.
    Sir Rudyard slapped them on the back. “Good lads. Ihave arranged for Sir Wingard to provide a sword lesson while we are away. He is a fine teacher. You will learn a great deal from him.”
    Sir Rudyard turned and walked quickly to catch up to the others. Angus looked over to his friend. Frustration hung in the air between them.
    â€œWhy would we need to worry about a Trojan horse when the castle is surrounded by ocean?” asked Angus glumly.
    Connor managed to crack a smile. “Perhaps we should prepare for an attack by a Trojan fish.”
    Angus looked at Connor quizzically, then they both burst out in laughter.
    â€œHow long can the Greeks hold their breath?”
    â€œLet’s attach a hook and line to our bo sticks and go on sentry duty!”
    Their grey mood quickly dissolved.
    â€œWe haven’t even had breakfast yet,” noted Connor. “Why don’t we go find a bite to eat?”
    â€œOch, aye,” agreed Angus. “You can’t mind an empty castle on an empty stomach. Come on. Maybe we’re in luck, and they’re serving Trojan stew.”
    The cook was only too happy to unload some of the morning meal on the two young men, after most of the food had gone untouched by the soldiers, who were too busy running off in search of battlefield glory. Connor and Angus then asked the few remaining stragglers where they might find Sir Wingard. A mason working on a cracked stone in the outer wall pointed them towards a small shed near the front gate.
    Making their way to the front gate, they entered the shed and froze in shock. Every wall was littered with a staggeringcollection of swords, pikes and daggers in every possible size and shape. The weapons glistened as though they had been polished by the wings of angels. An old man sat on a small wooden stool in the far corner, carefully sharpening a double-edged sword with a wet stone. He paused, balanced the sword on his index finger just past the bronze handle, shook his head and went back to his sharpening. Angus looked at Connor and shrugged.
    â€œHello? D’you know where we could find Sir Wingard?” called Angus.
    The old man continued to balance