Paul Kane - Arrowhead

The others had told him all they could of De Falaise. What the set-up was like at the castle, what his plans were – which Robert had pretty much guessed anyway – and roughly how many troops he had. The answer to that one was too many, not all of which could be relied on to do what Granger had done, especially in the core group that De Falaise had brought with him or had bribed with promises of power and fortune.

Which brought them to Javier.

"Let me talk to him," Tate had practically begged Robert. "I can get you all the information you need."

He'd hesitated, taking note of Bill's shaking head, before finally relenting and giving the Reverend his time with the man. Tate promised not to hurt him… much, though it was very hard to tell whether the holy man was serious or not. They'd left Tate all alone with the bound Javier, splashing water in his face to wake him up.

Three hours later, Tate had fetched Robert. As good as his word, there hadn't a mark on the prisoner that hadn't been there before. "He's ready to talk now," Tate said. Which the fat man begrudgingly did, detailing De Falaise's operations that he knew of, routes back to the castle, routes the patrols took in the area, villages they were planning on targeting in the near future.

"How did you do that?" Robert asked him later on.

Tate merely smiled. "I can be very persuasive, as you know. I also have God on my side. There were just the three of us there in that forest today."

"Faith again."

"Faith," Tate confirmed. "It can move mountains. Ultimately Javier is more frightened of divine retribution than anything De Falaise might do to him."

Robert shook his head. "Do you ever think that's what all this might be about?"

"Sorry?"

"The virus. Divine retribution, for 'man's sins'? After all, God didn't do much to stop it, did He?"

"Perhaps. All I know is that He is at work here, in you and in me. We have to trust that He knows what he's doing."

Pursing his lips, Robert held his tongue and walked away, unwilling to get into another debate with the holy man. He had too much to do. For starters, he had a trap to set. They'd tackle one of De Falaise's supply lines, striking where it would hurt the most (especially, as it turned out, in the case of the Italian in charge).

"There's something else you should know," Tate called after him. "My friend, Gwen, who was taken from Hope. She's still alive and in the castle, a plaything of De Falaise."

Robert paused, head turning to the side. "Then you pray for her, Reverend. And while you're at it, pray that we succeed in our endeavours." He'd continued walking. Robert hadn't wished to sound callous, he just didn't see what he could do about the woman right now. One step at a time was how they'd have to take it, and that meant not rushing to attack the castle if it was as heavily fortified as Granger and his men had described.

Once this first step, first attack, had been figured out, he'd ordered that Javier and the ones who wanted out – or Robert didn't want in – to be driven back to the outskirts of Nottingham in their own vehicles, then sent on their way. It amounted to about four or five men in all.

"I reckon you're makin' a mistake there," Bill had informed him when he learnt of the releases. "Why should we let 'em go?"

"What do you suggest," said Robert, "hold them prisoner here, feed them and keep a watch on them in case one escapes and kills us all? Or maybe just murder them in cold blood?"

"They're bound to be spotted by patrols and they know too much about where we are."

"They know we're in the woods, in the forest. De Falaise knew that already. Don't you see that this sends him a clear message?"

"Aye, come and get us."

"Let him come," answered Robert firmly. "We'll be ready."

One of his men interrupted Robert's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He'd found a list of villages that this unit had passed through on its expedition. Robert had heard of a lot of them and Bill knew the rest. In any event they had a map they could follow, replacing what had been stolen from people in those communities. It would be a long job, but splitting up would make it easier. And at least the people out there wouldn't starve. Then they'd do the same again with any other supply lines to the castle.

"Right then," Robert said. "Let's get all this stuff back to where it belongs."

In his head he heard that voice again: "Read it to me again, read the part about where he robs from the rich to give to the poor…"

It hadn't come as a total shock, of course.

News about the bound men walking through the streets of Nottingham, had been radioed in from look-outs near the train station more than fifteen minutes ago. Orders had come back to leave them be, and so they'd walked past the red brick of the Gresham Hotel, over the bridge, past derelict shops, making their way up towards the centre of the city.

So no, it hadn't come as a complete surprise to De Falaise, who was now standing on the roof of the castle, but it was still a somewhat unexpected turn of events. To his left, the Dutchman, Reinhart, was on one knee, leaning over the side. De Falaise had swapped his sunglasses for powerful binoculars and was watching the tiny group of men shuffling along the road towards the Britannia Hotel, wrists tied in front of them: trussed up like Christmas turkeys. All that was left of the assault team he'd sent to dispose of the hooded man.

Right at the very front was his Major, Javier, looking like the sorriest turkey of the bunch. Around his neck was a crudely painted sign. The message read: 'You Missed'. How could the simpleton have let this happen? De Falaise stamped his foot., his ringed fingers tightening around the binoculars. Reinhart watched through the scope of his sniper's rifle.

"He failed me," griped De Falaise. "And I don't like to lose."

"What would you have me do?" asked Reinhart.

De Falaise thought about this for a moment. "Wing Javier somewhere… uncomfortable, but not fatal. Kill the rest." Before the man could fire, De Falaise laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, wait, shoot the others first. I want Javier to see them die."

The Dutchman closed his left eye, centring a soldier's head in the crosshairs. He pulled the trigger as De Falaise observed. The soldier carried on walking for a second, then stumbled and fell, the contents of his skull leaking out onto the road.

The other men only really began to register what was happening when two more of their team went down. They ran then, not so much turkeys now as soon to be headless chickens. Javier looked around him, screaming as more men were picked off.

"What is he doing?" asked De Falaise, watching as Javier dropped to his knees "Is he praying? I don't believe it, he actually is! How pathetic."

"What should I do?" Reinhart enquired.

"You have your orders.

The Dutchman picked a spot on his target, the side of Javier's head. It would take all of his skill and precision; very delicate shooting indeed. Reinhart blew away the Mexican's right ear. Though neither of the men on the roof could hear his cries from this far away, they almost felt they could. Javier clutched at the red mess the bullet had made, hands shaking.

"No, it is far too late to repent, my friend," De Falaise said in hushed tones, then he radioed the troops he had on the ground, ordering them to bring the injured Javier to him at the castle..

It came again, the dream of water and fire.

Of De Falaise and his men.

But something was different this time, something that gave Robert hope. When the soldiers appeared brandishing their weapons, when De Falaise began his walk across the lake, Robert realised he was not observing it alone. Not only was Mark by his side, Robert was joined by others, too. Bill was there, as were Tate and Granger, plus another man that wasn't so well defined. Behind them all stood a further line of defence, the new recruits who had chosen Robert over their former master. De Falaise's face fell when he saw this united front. He was no longer dealing with just one rebel, but a group.