Barry Sadler [Casca 41] The Tony Roberts (epub)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He held the string in his left hand, using the classic three fingers to grip it, and fitted the slot in the base of the arrow he picked to the string.Now he pushed hard with his right and hauled hard with his left, forcing the wood to bend against its will.The arrow, thirty inches in length, slid back across his right fist.He held the trembling wood in his hand, his strength enough to keep it from dominating him, and he aimed at the butt.He estimated it was a hundred paces, short range for the bow.He aimed fractionally above the top, knowing the arrow would arc down to strike it, and released.The string leaped forward, sending the arrow tearing through the air.Casca watched as the missile impacted into the hay, making it shake, and he gently lowered the bow, allowing it to face the ground.“Impressive,” Will acknowledged.“But can you do that five more times?”Casca smiled ironically and, without another word, calmly shot five more arrows into the butt.On the last impact it toppled over, the arrows sticking up into the air.He handed the bow to Will.“Good enough?”“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Will said, piqued that someone had played a trick on him.Nobody was that good unless they used a bow regularly.He wasn’t to know Casca hadn’t touched an English greatbow for over fifty years, but the skills he’d picked up then had stayed with him.He passed the bow back to the thick-set scarred man.“You look like a fighter, Cass.You fought the Frenchies before?”“Aye.Don’t worry, I know my stuff.I’ve done plenty of mercenary work and know them as well as anyone here.”Will shrewdly regarded him on their walk back to the camp proper.“Hey, what about joining my group? It’d be good to have an experienced fellow like you amongst us.What do you say?”“Don’t see why not,” Casca shrugged.“Who leads the group?”“A sergeant-at-arms called Harry Wakeley.He’s from Cheshire, thinks the Cheshire Yeomanry to be the best in the world.Doesn’t like the Welsh.”“I’m not Welsh so that’s not going to be a problem,” Casca said, dodging a squad of well-armed men marching in the wake of an armored knight.They looked like proper professional soldiers.The English were putting together a proper army by the looks of things, not merely a hotch-potch of all-comers.“I don’t really call any place my own these days.”“Hmm, can’t place your accent, Cass.Where you from, anyway?”“Never knew that,” Casca said, looking out of the corner of his eye.“Folks were travelling from one place to another.Lived some time in the London area, some time in Scotland and more again in Wales.Lived in Southampton these past couple of years.”“Real nomad then.Me, I’m from Gloucester.Joined Sir Godfrey’s entourage as they marched down from Montgomery.Had to quit Gloucester really sudden, like.Long story, but it involves rent owed.”Casca chuckled.“Mine’s more down to earth.A woman.”Will snorted.“That’s what most of them say.Still, you seem honest enough about that, so I suppose it’s got to be true.Got her in the family way?”“Oh, nothing like that,” Casca said.One of the results of being turned immortal by the blood of Jesus that day on Golgotha was to make him sterile; he couldn’t father a child.“She’s someone else’s and I decided to quit the neighborhood; it was getting a little warm for my liking.Besides, there’s nothing like a good old honest war against the French, is there?”“You got that right, Cass.Here we are,” Will waved at a collection of men dressed in a motley collection of leather and padded tunics, cleaning swords or axes, sewing holes in hose or peeling an assortment of vegetables.“This is our little family.Gentlemen, may I introduce our newest recruit, Cass Long of Southampton.”The men appraised him, squinting up at him in the sunlight.Many were unshaven and needed a tidy up but here in the West that went as normal amongst the common folk, so different to the East.“Can he shoot?” one asked, growling skeptically.“Yes I can,” Casca said pointedly, deciding if the guy wanted to discuss things about him when he was there, then he’d be best to speak to him direct.“Huh,” the man said and spat into the earth at his own feet.“You’d best be good ‘cuz we don’t want to carry no freeloader.”“I can cook, loose, hunt as good as any man I know,” Casca said, leaning on his bow.“I can fight better than any of you and that’s no boast.I’ve done more campaigning than any of you here.I think if anyone is carried around here, it won’t be me.”The skeptical man regarded Casca for a moment, chewing on something.Then he snorted and got to his feet, standing right on front of Casca.“Cass Long, mm?”Casca tensed and got ready for a brawl.The others were getting to their feet, too.“Yep.”The man sniffed, wiped his right palm on his tunic, then presented his hand.“If you fight half as good as you boast, then we’re lucky to have you.I’m Walt of Shrewsbury.Just call me Walt.”Casca shook his hand, finding it tough and hard, shaped by years of hard work and harder fighting.The others welcomed him in turn [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Pokrewne