[center][h2][color=f26522]GENERAL WITHOUT AN ARMY[/color][/h2][/center]
After they destroyed the ships, Cenwulf’s group disappeared deep into the woods. He knew the Vikings will probably be furious, and while it was unlikely that they would follow them into the unknown territory, the possibility was still there. And the soldiers couldn’t fight them off. The men were tired, dirty and hungry, most of them with some injuries, but at least now there was a light smile on their faces, not a look of defeat and desperation.

Cenwulf was sitting on a log and writing letters. Or at least trying to. He was struggling on how to describe the battle of Watford other than a complete failure, but then sighed resignedly. The king will have his head no matter what, no point in lying. When he was finished with the letter to the king, he started writing several letters to the nearby towns, all with the same content. The tip of his tongue slightly was sticking out, as he carefully wrote the words while trying not to get too much dirt, which he was covered in, onto the paper.

[color=82ca9d]“Sir?”[/color]

Cenwulf nearly jumped up and made a small ink-blot on the parchment. [color=f26522]“God, do you always have to sneak up on me so quietly?”[/color] He turned to Osmund with and smiled to let him know he was only joking. In the last few days he began to like this young man and to trust him with the most important tasks.

Osmund smiled in return. [color=82ca9d]“Perhaps I can cough next time. You wanted to talk to me?”[/color]

[color=f26522]“Yes. You say they are preparing to head south on foot.”[/color] Osmund nodded and Cenwulf continued. [color=f26522]“We can’t beat them in combat, not in our current state.”[/color] [i]And apparently not even while protected by walls and trained and geared squad of soldiers.[/i] [color=f26522]“They are probably heading to raid the cities to the south. I don’t think they will go very far from the sea, which leaves us with only few options for them. I want you to send some of your scouts to these cities and warn them. Someone quick, who can sneak around. Also, there should be a smaller town north of here, umm something with grave in it?”[/color] Cenwulf felt stupid not trying harder to remember the maps, now he was almost lost when he didn’t have them.

[color=82ca9d]“Kesgrave.”[/color]

[color=f26522]“Yes, that’s it. This is a letter for the council, asking for supplies. And also for all the known hunters and poachers from the surrounding villages.”[/color] This was a risky and an unorthodox idea, but it seems that normal ways won’t do it with these pagans. [color=f26522]“Someone who can sneak around in the woods, shoot things from distance, maybe lay some traps and most importantly get lost without getting caught. We can promise them a royal pardon, or a permit to hunt in the woods to some extent, or something like that. Send someone reliable with this letter. Oh, and also maybe a healer if they have one.”[/color] Cenwulf grinned and pointed at his head, where the blood finally stopped soaking through the bandages. It was itching like hell, but he knew that if he scratched it, it would only start bleeding again. Luckily it didn’t seem infected, which was almost a miracle given to the conditions they now lived in.

Osmund went away to gather the messengers and Cenwulf tried to remember what major cities lay to the south. He knew London was way down there, but even these madmen wouldn’t dare to attack it. Or would they? Truth be told, as the kingdoms in England were mostly arguing or fighting amongst each other, no one would send their army to protect lands of someone else. The Norsemen might be crazy, but they aren’t stupid, especially not when it comes to waging war. He sighed and shook his head. London was far away for now, there were more pressing issues to think about.

[hr]

To the untrained ear the woods were full of scary noises, especially now after dark. But Osmund could tell exactly what caused each and every one of them, and which were standing out as unusual. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He could smell the wet dirt, the trees around and a slight trace of something that didn’t belong here – smoke. Smiling, he continued following the track, moving slowly, but almost noiselessly, thinking about every single step he took, checking the ground for twigs or anything else that might make a sound before planting his foot there.

Yes, someone definitely followed them after they set the ships on fire, but judging by the footprints in the dirt, it was only two people mindlessly running through the forest, rather than a squad of warriors carefully following their tracks. Osmund almost regretted that he didn’t stay behind, greeting each of them with a well-aimed arrow, but general’s orders were strict. [i]Well, if any of them shows up now, I will teach them a lesson about how dangerous the woods can be after dark,[/i] he thought with a smile.

He crawled to the edge of the forest and found a spot from which he could oversee the outpost, hiding under a large gorse bush and wrapping into his large cloak to stay hidden from anyone walking further than a few feet from him. He knew he had to remain completely still in case that happens, because movement is always the thing that gives you away. People don’t search for a figure sitting in a gorse bush and their eyes will just pass it as a normal piece of the landscape. But if they notice even the slightest movement, they will look more carefully, and Osmund will be screwed.

He felt almost guilty about how happy he was now. Before all this, he was just a boy running errands for the Watford city council, mostly a messenger, too short and skinny to become a real soldier. And now, he was scouting the enemy and carrying out the orders of a royal general. He couldn’t screw this up.