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Bow And Arrow

From: After London

Three mornings the shepherds marched in the same manner, when they came
in view of a range of hills so high that to Felix they appeared
mountains. The home of the tribe was in these hills, and once there they
were comparatively safe from attack. In early spring when the herbage on
the downs was scarce, the flocks moved to the meadowlike lands far in
the valleys; in summer they returned to the hills; in autumn they went
to the vales again. Soon after noon on the third day the scouts reported
that a large body of gipsies were moving in a direction which would cut
off their course to the hills on the morrow.

The chief held a council, and it was determined that a forced march
should be made at once by another route, more to the left, and it was
thought that in this way they might reach the base of the slopes by
evening. The distance was not great, and could easily have been
traversed by the men; the flocks and herds, however, could not be
hurried much. A messenger was despatched to the hills for assistance,
and the march began. It was a tedious movement. Felix was wearied, and
walked in a drowsy state. Towards six o'clock, as he guessed, the trees
began to thin, and the column reached the first slopes of the hills.
Here about thirty shepherds joined them, a contingent from the nearest
camp. It was considered that the danger was now past, and that the
gipsies would not attack them on the hill; but it was a mistake.

A large body almost immediately appeared, coming along the slope on the
right, not less than two hundred; and from their open movements and
numbers it was evident that they intended battle. The flocks and herds
were driven hastily into a coombe, or narrow valley, and there left to
their fate. All the armed men formed in a circle; the women occupied the
centre. Felix took his stand outside the circle by a gnarled and decayed
oak. There was just there a slight rise in the ground, which he knew
would give him some advantage in discharging his arrows, and would also
allow him a clear view. His friends earnestly entreated him to enter the
circle, and even sought to bring him within it by force, till he
explained to them that he could not shoot if so surrounded, and promised
if the gipsies charged to rush inside.

Felix unslung his quiver, and placed it on the ground before him; a
second quiver he put beside it; four or five arrows he stuck upright in
the sward, so that he could catch hold of them quickly; two arrows he
held in his left hand, another he fitted to the string. Thus prepared,
he watched the gipsies advance. They came walking their short wiry
horses to within half a mile, when they began to trot down the slope;
they could not surround the shepherds because of the steep-sided coombe
and some brushwood, and could advance only on two fronts. Felix rapidly
became so excited that his sight was affected, and his head whirled. His
heart beat with such speed that his breath seemed going. His limbs
tottered, and he dreaded lest he should faint.

His intensely nervous organization, strung up to its highest pitch,
shook him in its grasp, and his will was powerless to control it. He
felt that he should disgrace himself once more before these rugged but
brave shepherds, who betrayed not the slightest symptom of agitation.
For one hour of Oliver's calm courage and utter absence of nervousness
he would have given years of his life. His friends in the circle
observed his agitation, and renewed their entreaties to him to come
inside it. This only was needed to complete his discomfiture. He lost
his head altogether; he saw nothing but a confused mass of yellow and
red rushing towards him, for each of the gipsies wore a yellow or red
scarf, some about the body, some over the shoulder, others round the
head. They were now within three hundred yards.

A murmur from the shepherd spearmen. Felix had discharged an arrow. It
stuck in the ground about twenty paces from him. He shot again; it flew
wild and quivering, and dropped harmlessly. Another murmur; they
expressed to each other their contempt for the bow. This immediately
restored Felix; he forgot the enemy as an enemy, he forgot himself; he
thought only of his skill as an archer, now in question. Pride upheld
him. The third arrow he fitted properly to the string, he planted his
left foot slightly in advance, and looked steadfastly at the horsemen
before he drew his bow.

At a distance of one hundred and fifty yards they had paused, and were
widening out so as to advance in loose open rank and allow each man to
throw his javelin. They shouted; the spearmen in the circle replied, and
levelled their spears. Felix fixed his eye on one of the gipsies who was
ordering and marshalling the rest, a chief. He drew the arrow swiftly
but quietly, the string hummed, the pliant yew obeyed, and the long
arrow shot forward in a steady swift flight like a line of gossamer
drawn through the air. It missed the chief, but pierced the horse he
rode just in front of the rider's thigh. The maddened horse reared and
fell backwards on his rider.

The spearmen shouted. Before the sound could leave their lips another
arrow had sped; a gipsy threw up his arms with a shriek; the arrow had
gone through his body. A third, a fourth, a fifth--six gipsies rolled on
the sward. Shout upon shout rent the air from the spearmen. Utterly
unused to this mode of fighting, the gipsies fell back. Still the fatal
arrows pursued them, and ere they were out of range three others fell.
Now the rage of battle burned in Felix; his eyes gleamed, his lips were
open, his nostrils wide like a horse running a race. He shouted to the
spearmen to follow him, and snatching up his quiver ran forward.
Gathered together in a group, the gipsy band consulted.

Felix ran at full speed; swift of foot, he left the heavy spearmen
behind. Alone he approached the horsemen; all the Aquila courage was up
within him. He kept the higher ground as he ran, and stopped suddenly on
a little knoll or tumulus. His arrow flew, a gipsy fell. Again, and a
third. Their anger gave them fresh courage; to be repulsed by one only!
Twenty of them started to charge and run him down. The keen arrows flew
faster than their horses' feet. Now the horse and now the man met those
sharp points. Six fell; the rest returned. The shepherds came running;
Felix ordered them to charge the gipsies. His success gave him
authority; they obeyed; and as they charged, he shot nine more arrows;
nine more deadly wounds. Suddenly the gipsy band turned and fled into
the brushwood on the lower slopes.

Breathless, Felix sat down on the knoll, and the spearmen swarmed around
him. Hardly had they begun to speak to him than there was a shout, and
they saw a body of shepherds descending the hill. There were three
hundred of them; warned by the messenger, the whole country had risen to
repel the gipsies. Too late to join in the fight, they had seen the last
of it. They examined the field. There were ten dead and six wounded, who
were taken prisoners; the rest escaped, though hurt. In many cases the
arrow had gone clean through the body. Then, for the first time, they
understood the immense power of the yew bow in strong and skilful hands.

Felix was overwhelmed; they almost crushed him with their attentions;
the women fell at his feet and kissed them. But the archer could
scarcely reply; his intense nervous excitement had left him weak and
almost faint; his one idea was to rest. As he walked back to the camp
between the chiefs of the shepherd spearmen, his eyes closed, his limbs
tottered, and they had to support him. At the camp he threw himself on
the sward, under the gnarled oak, and was instantly fast asleep.
Immediately the camp was stilled, not to disturb him.

His adventures in the marshes of the buried city, his canoe, his
archery, were talked of the livelong night. Next morning the camp set
out for their home in the mountains, and he was escorted by nearly four
hundred spearmen. They had saved for him the ornaments of the gipsies
who had fallen, golden earrings and nose-rings. He gave them to the
women, except one, a finger-ring, set with turquoise, and evidently of
ancient make, which he kept for Aurora. Two marches brought them to the
home of the tribe, where the rest of the spearmen left them. The place
was called Wolfstead.

Felix saw at once how easily this spot might be fortified. There was a
deep and narrow valley like a groove or green trench opening to the
south. At the upper end of the valley rose a hill, not very high, but
steep, narrow at the ridge, and steep again on the other side. Over it
was a broad, wooded, and beautiful vale; beyond that again the higher
mountains. Towards the foot of the narrow ridge here, there was a
succession of chalk cliffs, so that to climb up on that side in the face
of opposition would be extremely difficult. In the gorge of the enclosed
narrow valley a spring rose. The shepherds had formed eight pools, one
after the other, water being of great importance to them; and farther
down, where the valley opened, there were forty or fifty acres of
irrigated meadow. The spring then ran into a considerable brook, across
which was the forest.

Felix's idea was to run a palisade along the margin of the brook, and up
both sides of the valley to the ridge. There he would build a fort. The
edges of the chalk cliffs he would connect with a palisade or a wall,
and so form a complete enclosure. He mentioned his scheme to the
shepherds; they did not greatly care for it, as they had always been
secure without it, the rugged nature of the country not permitting
horsemen to penetrate. But they were so completely under his influence
that to please him they set about the work. He had to show them how to
make a palisade; they had never seen one, and he made the first part of
it himself. At building a wall with loose stones, without mortar, the
shepherds were skilful; the wall along the verge of the cliffs was soon
up, and so was the fort on the top of the ridge. The fort consisted
merely of a circular wall, breast high, with embrasures or

When this was finished, Felix had a sense of mastership, for in this
fort he felt as if he could rule the whole country. From day to day
shepherds came from the more distant parts to see the famous archer, and
to admire the enclosure. Though the idea of it had never occurred to
them, now they saw it they fully understood its advantages, and two
other chiefs began to erect similar forts and palisades.

Next: Surprised

Previous: The Shepherds

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