“What were you doing so far away from the village? You foolish children,” Mrs Radstock chided as she clapped both her children around their heads, hard enough to wipe the sheepish expression off their dirty faces and send them corralling forward slightly. Despite the serious punishment the children faced, the stares of the village elders were enough to keep them rooted in place and wipe out any thought of running from the hall.

“We were fishing by the stream.”

“The one by Grillas Hill.”

At the boy's nods, Elder Griff continued his rather tame interrogation.

“Did they take you straight back here? Were there any more apart from those four?”

“Uh-huh, and we… we didn’t see any more, but they kept speaking about a great northern army.”

With Correy's words echoing around the walls of the town hall, a worried silence fell over its few occupants. After a moment of consideration, the most frail-looking elder nodded towards Mrs Radstock, it was a simple gesture and one whose meaning was clearly understood. Within an instant, the young mother wrapped both her children in a tight hug before quickly leading them out of the hall.

Once the door creaked shut behind them, the five remaining occupants finally turned to each other.

And with Ragnall maintaining his duty of head guard, he knew the decision made on this matter would ultimately fall on his shoulders. With his head already hurting at the thought of what was to come, Ragnall rose from his seat and moved to address the other four elderly occupants face to face.

“I would suggest we implement the plague watch protocols, as many as we can anyhow. We may no longer have the manpower to double the guard but is it advisable that we all sleep in the hall tonight, maintain our alertness and keep a warning horn on us at all times.” Ragnall’s brief but firm suggestion rattled around the wooden hall but none of those now sat across from him voiced any complaints. Although it was clear none of them were looking forward to sleeping on the hard wooden floor or crumbling benches that made up the furniture within the town hall.

Once his voice had faded, one of the other elders, a now bald man with dreary eyes and a wrinkled face finally leant from his chair and spoke “You saved us during the plague, we shall of course follow your guidance. But these are not the ill, but men here for spoil. This army can only be here for one thing and even with you, we are nothing but a twig in a strong wind.”

“The situation is dire but there is always the chance they will leave us be, were barely worth the effort of sacking,” added Mrs Whitworth whose frail body barely looked able to speak the words.

“The ones at the gate. I have met such men before; they would kill a man just for not greeting them with due respect. I shall remain on guard and should they return. I will do what I must to keep my oath.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that. We have seen enough blood and death to fill a lifetime. All of us have stared at the gates of hell far too many times for my liking. Is it too much to ask to just die peacefully in my bed with a bottle in my hands and some good hot food around my chin.”

“We’d need mead first and good food for that matte-“

“This is not the time for such conversation, keep to the topic at hand,” Mr Griff cut in as he gave his fellow elders an annoyed glance before allowing his shaky hand to rub his chin thoughtfully.

“The increase in sightings, reports of a great northern army and now supposedly even King Osberht is raising a force. These events are not to be taken lightly; I fear we may be caught in the middle of a great turmoil. Ragnall, you know what must be done should it be required, to protect Dunstead, to protect my grandchildren. But do not at any cost allow the plague to resurface.”

“I shall do my duty. Whatever is required.”

“I shall see about enlisting Gareth, Rich and Herson to join you in your patrols. If they can spare the time that is. It would do us no good to double the patrol, only to freeze in our beds.” With those last few words from Elder Griff, the meeting came to an end and after giving a respectful goodbye to the other elders, Ragnall’s clanking armour could soon be heard making its way out of the hall and towards his patrol route.

He had never slacked in his routine or patrol, and he wasn’t going to start now with such a danger right on their doorstep. An attack could reach them in hours and whilst Ragnall was skilled, he couldn’t afford to fight the intruders away from the village. That was to be avoided at all costs.

There is no rest for the weary.

With his mind bubbling with concern over the past events, Ragnall wasted no time in quickly pacing towards the gate and up the stairs to his watch. Once there he quickly relieved Rich who was still gripping his bow tightly.

Rich still had his own work to attend to and should it come to a fight it would be Ragnall who needed to be the first to meet their enemy, it was his duty after all. There was a small part of him that hoped this would all blow over, but old age and weariness had taught him better to put his faith in such small hopes. Dunstead had seen its share of both prosperity and death, it was a more than fair assumption that this encounter wouldn’t end in everyone walking away content.

With such beliefs swishing around within him, Ragnall could do nothing but sharpen his eyes, grip his sword hilt tightly within his gauntlets and fiddle with the straps of his plate and chainmail armour.

A problem for another day.

The air around Dunstead was still with no unnatural sounds disturbing its peaceful tranquillity. A comforting fact that reassured Ragnall’s belief that this would be an issue for another day. He had met such men before and given the growing hour, Ragnall was sure they would not return today, and they did not seem the type to prowl around in the darkness either.

Pitiful excuses for men. Back in my day, I would have cut them down for just insinuating that they might harm someone under my protection.

With the threat of attack still lingering in the air, Ragnall fiddled out the whetstone from his pocket and began to slowly sharpen the edges of his sword. He was not going to let it dull, not now. The grinding of rock on metal was enough to cause a sharp pain to erupt in his ears, an annoyance that usually had the benefit of driving away both Arrin and Correy.

And with the two children likely being kept indoors and the situation being dire, Ragnall knew it was once again time to bring his shield on patrols.

Given its bulky size and weight, the lack of dangers and its tendency to disappear within the hands of Correy and Arrin, Ragnall rarely brought it with him anymore. But now its service was once again needed.

With his desire for a shield itching at the back of his mind and it now being time for the other watchmen to relieve him, Ragnall gave one last scouring glance at the plains and dirt paths surrounding Dunstead before leaving his post.

Using his usual practised steps, he quickly closed the muddy distance between him and his house. Once there he quickly unlocked his door, took off his muddy leather shoes and gathered up the belongings he would need for the night. Since all the villagers would be sharing the main hall, he would need to make sure he brought his weapons with him along with a quick change of clothes.

After allowing himself a handful of minutes to slip out of his chainmail and remove the padding that prevented it from pinching his neck, Ragnall went about organising it into a small, neat pile. Along with his spare set of greaves and helmet, he had quite an expensive set of armour. However, due to personal tastes, none of it had been stylised. The only thing he had that still held an emblem was his shield, even if the paint was faded, the four golden wings that spread out from the shield's centre were still clearly visible.

After taking a second to trace over its design, Ragnall gently laid it by the door before quickly replacing his plain tunic and trousers. If he had the time, he would have loved a quick bath and a chance to massage his scarred aching skin and stretched muscles but now was not the time for such luxuries.

Following one last check around his small abode, Ragnall blew out the candle that he had lit at the side of his bed before quickly gathering his equipment. Given its weight, the watchman wasted no time in hobbling out the door, kicking it shut behind him and making his way towards the main hall.

With a little shuffling, he pushed open the door and gently closed it behind him, he had been the last to arrive and with the remaining villagers all huddled at the back enjoying peaceful safe sleep, Ragnall did not want to risk waking them.

It wasn’t long ago that this hall used to be overflowing with people. With each generation, the descendants diminished.

With that sombre thought rolling around his skill, Ragnall slowly laid his head on the small pillow that had been laid out for him. It was hardly comfy, sleeping on the wooden floor but Ragnall had not known a comfy life and with his aching body, it wasn’t long at all before his eyes had closed and his dreams were overcome with memories.