It was proving to be a miserable reign under his throne.
Will had sent several of his men to spread out in secret to the rebel land barons, using their movements and knowledge to add to his intelligence. He'd even used the knowledge to tip the sides of battle in one way or another, being sure to never let the king come in direct harm, guaranteeing that his attack would be the one that brought the king down.
Solomon had grown up in the school, a perk that had proven to be an incredible benefit in his upbringing. Tuck had been right about his totem. No one had mentioned it to him but Solomon had admitted to having dreams about an owl. However, he was not very forthcoming with the details, saying only that the owl demanded secrecy.
Will was proud that he could give his son the tools that the school offered. The students had adopted Solomon as a little brother and mascot, using him as a focus when pushed new students. The catchphrase "Solomon can do it, so can you," was a mantra recited to the students when faced with a challenge that seemed insurmountable.
Under sanctuary was alive with excitement. The underground school had grown in size through exhaustive digging and expansion into a nearby cave system. The green students all waited patiently as the elder students passed out the new red hoods. Several of the elder students now wore hoods and uniforms that were a deep blue. They were the elite and only Will, John, Layne, Smith and Tuck knew their exact numbers. Their uniforms obscured the features from the other students. They were used as spies and guards. The cave was crowded with around one hundred hooded individuals all standing at attention. Will took his place at the front of the large underground room and let the students change into their new hoods before giving his speech.
"It's been a long, hard road. We've been lucky and have lost only my father in this war. Unfortunately, the king must respond." He looked around at all the faces staring at him. "After our righteous victory at the castle, I suspect that more troops are on their way to secure Nottingham. Bruce, I'll need you to gather up thirty men of your choice and hold the castle. The rest of us will be following the king's route. We expect him to retreat from a French invasion force." Will's had men among the king's men. They would coax him to move where Will wanted.
Bruce took time selecting his team while Will conferred with John. "I want whatever men he doesn't select to leave tonight and head for Newark Castle. I want elite inside the castle. They should expect King John there in two days."
John understood his orders and dismissed himself.
Gwen came to Will's side. "Am I to expect the same ruse from you this time around?" she asked.
Will cracked a smile, "No, I'll need your skills. Solomon is going as well. I'm not hiding this from him. He needs to know that we Redgraves have a responsibility to our country."
Gwen didn't like putting Solomon in jeopardy, "Won't that be dangerous?"
"When I'm done there, the crown will be scrambling to keep things together," Will said. He was absolutely sure of his men's abilities. "Between the french, the rebels and us, it'll be a matter of disappearing again. I've worked very hard at making sure that there is less of a gamble than before. Would I leave anything up to chance?"
Gwen knew that he wouldn't.
"Solomon needs to understand the severity of this life that we lead," Will added. "There might come a day that he doesn't want to choose this path and its best that he has as much information to help in that process as possible. Besides, as I've planned it, he won't see any of the carnage."
She thought it made it sound so simple.
Bruce took his selected men and left for Nottingham with orders to create a disturbance that would get the attention of the battalions still in the area then evade capture.
The remaining men, roughly seventy in number, were broken into six groups and sent to Newark to be ready for the arrival of the king. A planned arrival that the king wasn't even aware of.
Will and John took four of the elite and his family and headed east to an area that Will had selected, called the Wash. The Wash was a natural bay on the North Sea. It was along the eastern shore and Will planned to separate the king from his crown jewels. A bit of insult to make the final attack all the more rewarding.
Simultaneously, Will and his men dug into a prepared outcrop while Bruce and his men began attacking the guards and soldiers in Nottingham. As planned, the caravan containing the king's baggage came up the coast on its way to Spaulding to rendezvous with the king.
Four wagons carried the goods toward where Will stood. His hood was up and his bow sat ready with an arrow notched. The caravan slowed upon seeing him enough for the soldiers that chaperoned to advance and clear the threat. Will looked up at them as they approached and pulled his bow up and aimed at the first man.
Without releasing his grip, an arrow struck the first man through the neck and he dropped from his horse, getting trampled by the following riders. Will aimed again and again an arrow seemed to hit its target without him firing, this time, the rider simply sagged in his saddle. Will aimed at the third as he slowed. The soldiers thought it was sorcery and halted their progression. Arrows came out of no where and found the drivers of each wagon.
"What sorcery is this?" the closest mounted soldier asked.
"The Hooded Demon demands payment for your transgressions against his ilk!" Will hollered.
The men all looked at each other. They'd heard of the Hooded Demon but believed that the man responsible was dead after being captured in Nottingham.
"The Hooded Demon is dead!" one of the men at the back said. Will aimed his bow and the man fell from his horse in a lifeless heap, a single arrow piercing under his arm, through his heart.
"You will speak of me to no one for they won't believe you," Will demanded, "and instead, you'll tell of the high tide and how it robbed you those wagons!"
The soldiers were afraid to move. They couldn't see where the arrows were fired from and weren't willing to chance that this demon wasn't somehow Thomas Redgrave, spat out of hell in a bid for righteous revenge.
"You may go!" Will said to the remaining soldiers.
They didn't waste time as they rode past him. He seemed unafraid of them. Will watched them ride off to the horizon. When he returned his gaze to the wagons, the four elite were in the driver's seats. They'd already cleared the dead into the Wash, removing the arrows and scattering prepared wagon wheels and debris. Will was proud of his elite.
In Nottingham, Bruce's men met much resistance. Bruce knew that a number of elite had been ordered to back him but he wasn't sure of the number or where they were. His men had taken the castle's courtyard and were holding off the English soldiers using tactics taught to them by Will. While a primary force drew attention, archers had hidden in the shops of the square, the villagers having been given ample time to make a hasty retreat. Will had paid them all in advance for any damages that might be done to their shops.
Bruce saw mounted troops and a garrison getting closer and the ambushers waited for the right moment.
"I want archers in the towers!" Bruce demanded and five of the twenty men inside the courtyard climbed the outside of the castle walls to get into windows and the parapets. He couldn't let too many men into the castle because the second part of the plan was a calculated retreat and leaving them inside would have left them easily captured.
As the mounted troops approached the courtyard walls, Bruce gave the signal and a wall of arrows shot out of the shops. The soldiers fell.
The garrison saw this and men broke from the primary group to flank the shops. Bruce ran across the village square, drawing fire from the garrison and soldiers as he ran to the shops. One arrow blurred passed his face and he spun, stabbing a soldier near him and resumed his sprint. "Fall back!" he yelled into the shops.
Arrows rained down from the towers onto the garrison but their heavy shields defended them. They were about one hundred yards away and closing.
Another volley of arrows came at Bruce and though he dodged a couple, one penetrated his arm and pinned it to his side, the arrow head piercing his right lung. Bruce fell in a spin. Two of his men inside the shops pulled him inside, provoking another volley of arrows.
The flanking garrison men made their way up to the back of the shops and kicked in the walls and doors using battle axes and brute strength. The red hoods were waiting and they shot the first group of men as the last bits of splintered wood fell.
The two that had Bruce tried to get him onto a horse but arrows skewered one of them.
Bruce could barely breath. He labored at talking. "Give the signal... to retreat," he said, coughing up blood. The remaining man near him lit an arrow and shot it into a nearby mound of hay. The dry October air let the fire swell into a brilliant blaze. The hooded men scattered.
Then the elite engaged the enemy.
Night was falling and they moved easily among the soldiers, gutting the survivors and leaving opening up the opportunity for the red hoods to escape.
One of the archers at the top of the tower climbed over the side to attempt his decent and was immediately pinned to it permanently.
The elite focused their attention on the advancing garrison. Their orders were clear: no prisoners. Like a black fog they weaved in and out of the guard, their numbers hidden by the night and speed. As the last of the garrison fell, the red hoods made for sanctuary, carrying their dead and dying with them.
One of the elite saw the dead red hood that was pinned to the top of the castle tower. Another garrison was approaching but the hoods didn't leave their dead behind. The lone elite entered the castle and hurried up to the parapet. It checked for life in the man pinned to the wall and when there was none, it pushed the lifeless body off of the arrows, letting it fall to the ground.
With blinding speed, the elite had the lifeless body on shoulder and heading for the woods where wagons and horses waited.
A day later, in Newark, the red hoods didn't wear their hoods just yet.. Instead they had spread out into six different areas that had views of the castle walls. Will had arrived and the group was waiting for the king's arrival. His agents had told him that the king was ill. Will didn't like this. He didn't want to lose his kill to failing health.
Solomon sat at a makeshift brick oven. It provided heat but didn't give their position away to prying eyes. He was watching the embers. Gwen came up on him while he poked the fire with a stick.
"Be careful," she said.
Solomon turned to his mother, smiling. "The owl says that tonight, papa will become a legend. That his name will be lost to time but that his actions will be the inspiration for good men for a long time."
Gwen had only heard of the owl but Will was careful about not saying what the owl said. To hear this surprised her. "What else does the owl say?" she asked.
Solomon became very serious, "I can't tell you that."
"Not even your mum?" she asked.
"Sorry, mum," Solomon apologized, "but I can't because the owl says that it can alter things to come. Just know that papa will be a legend."
The message was almost ominous but Solomon didn't seem at all worried.
The kings caravan pulled into the castle courtyard and the men all took positions with their bows and arrows at the ready. Will came out and waited for a signal he'd ordered his men to do. They couldn't see into the courtyard because of the high walls so they would be firing blind, essentially.
Suddenly torches lit on a castle wall. This was a marker as to where they should aim, using the torch's position as a reference. Then another torch lit. This one was on a wall adjacent to the first and showed how deep into the courtyard they should focus their fire. The men all aimed.
The torches went out. The final signal that the king was in the kill zone.
Will released his the red arrow with a broad head and it climbed and met with seventy other arrows. The other groups were told to fire three repeated volleys, putting 211 arrows in the air at once.
On the ground, the king didn't understand why the man that was walking with him suddenly walked off. Nor why the moonlight suddenly faded. When he looked up at the moon, all he could see was what looked like a rain cloud.
The cloud whispered.
Will watched as the arrows rained down into the courtyard. If all went as planned, a torch would be lit to mark a single kill.
He waited patiently. The torch suddenly sprung to life and collectively, the men all cheered.
Will turned to his wife. She smiled at him. They both knew that this was the start of something else. A new life that wasn't focused on revenge and instead, could be focused on rebuilding. The men all gathered their things and began the journey back to sanctuary.
The standing order was that the king died of dysentery. Will's men had infiltrated the empire for the single purpose of removing the cancer that had used the backs of the bruised to his own end.
In the courtyard, the arrows all landed within a twenty foot radius. Anything caught in that circle was doomed. In the middle of the circle lie the body of the king. His body a pin cushion. Among the black arrows, one stood out.
Buried deep in his chest was a single red arrow.
Will continued his school, focusing his teachings on democracy and the teachings that Roman scholars had to offer. They occasionally reacted to injustice when needed growing in branches and taking on many forms.
Solomon... well, his is a tale for another day.
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