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face despite the season. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Bernice filled a
small flask with it, having to rub the circulation back into her hand after its
dip in the unheated water. It should be safe enough to drink, she thought
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at least after those broad spectrum inoculations but more enticing was the
prospect of having it analysed properly for one of her papers once she was
back in the TARDIS. Who else had an accurate breakdown of the medieval
water supply? she asked herself. Not even the formally qualified academics.
Occasionally she would catch a glimpse of some red roofs through a gap
in the hills, but no one would say why they weren t heading for that village.
Still, if it was in a state anything like the hilltop one . . .
Emerging from a narrow cutting lined with trees, which they had entered
rather than climb several more hills, they had gained their first view of the
Roc. Benny was impressed, though she probably wouldn t have admitted to it.
Rising from the very edge of the foothills that rimmed a reasonably sized river
valley, its sheer sides stretched over a thousand yards into the sky overlooking
a curve in the river. A steep track wound its way up the only area of climbable
gradient, to an artificial outgrowth of stone that protruded from the summit
like a worn molar from a thick jaw.
Bernice wondered in spite of herself if those who lived below it ever saw
the sunlight, as its shadow seemed to darken the whole valley. She was still
admiring the incredible view when the attack came.
With a raucous chorus of roars and yells, a dozen or so men in padded
leather and woollens swarmed out front the nearest trees, wildly swinging
axes and cudgels. The reaction of the other refugees was to run screaming for
the nearest rise. Meanwhile, knots of the bandits clustered round the people
on the carts, as there was more likely to be something worth stealing there.
Benny fought down an urge to let them run, or even join them. The oth-
ers might not be willing or able to stand up to men with primitive crushing
weapons, but she was fitter than they were, not to mention a long-time prac-
titioner of aikido, which hadn t even been invented in this time-zone. More
importantly, if she was able, she felt not being willing to help would be like
robbing them herself.
Thibaud hooked one wiry arm round the waggoner, and hurled him from the
rickety cart, while a couple of his friends clubbed down a farmer who was
trying to protect the cart. Ordinarily, he and his fellow varlets would merely
loot the battlefields, but with most of the Church army s work being done in
the cities for the moment, one had to be enterprising to survive, and he had
long since decided that if any band was going to survive it would be his.
He laughed aloud as he saw the villagers flee from his motley band, waved
a few of his men on to follow them. He doubted they would have anything
worth stealing, but even a loaf or a skin of wine would go far. It amused him
how his ragged and underfed group could strike fear into the hearts of larger
groups simply by being bold. Nobody so much as stopped to see how strong
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or weak they really were. His thoughts were derailed by the unexpected sight
of a woman, at least as tall as himself and dressed in some sort of peculiarly
alluring padded armour of a pale blue colour, walking calmly towards the cart.
Thibaud s interest in the cart faded, and he called to the other two in the
cart, pointing out the newcomer. Their expressions mirrored his own feelings,
and together they jumped down from the cart, spreading out slightly as they
awaited her approach.
She stopped within touching distance, a haughty and impatient look on her
face. Leave these people alone, she ordered, and get back under whichever
stone you crawled out from.
Thibaud and the others chuckled at her snappiness. Orders, eh? We have
a Lady in our midst, come to pay tribute for using this road. He looked
sideways at the others. We should treat her better than an ordinary peasant
wench, eh? They laughed, but her expression didn t change. Tiring of trying
to worry her, he nodded towards Benny and they reached out towards her.
There was a sudden blur, and a jarring pain.
Benny twisted the first man s arm round, forcing him to double up as she
hurled him into the man opposite, before booting the third one in the groin
and finishing him off with a punch behind the ear. It wasn t strictly aikido, of
course, but then none of her favourite bars were what one would call a dojo.
The other two recovered quickly; but Benny quickly tripped one and stamped
on his chest then delivered a backwards flailing kick to the jaw of the last, his
axe spinning off into the trees as it flew from his unconscious hand.
She moved towards the man who been thrown from the cart to see if he
needed any help. He seemed to have been unofficially adopted as the group s
leader, and as such she knew that the others would believe themselves to be
worse off without him which meant they really would be worse off, since
belief in failure often seemed to spark it. As she approached, however, he
waved her off with a groan, getting up under his own power.
More of the bandits were already falling upon those who couldn t run fast
enough, and Benny made straight for the nearest. She knew that their unfa-
miliarity with her style of combat was her biggest advantage. Although she
was merely adequately skilled by the standards of her own time, she suspected
that to those who had never seen such a display she must seem as impressive
as Bruce Lee.
She had no further time to consider this, however, as she launched herself
at the nearest bandit, who was busily trying to cut a ring complete with
finger from a former merchant. Her boot connected with the side of his head
as she sailed past, before tumbling to the ground and immediately rolling into
a fighting crouch from which she could launch a flurry of punches on to the
next bandit.
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A jingle of barding drew her attention, and she saw her erstwhile chauffeur s
chestnut horse charge into the fray, his cloak billowing. He swept his glinting
sword down on the nearest group of bandits, cutting the axe from one s hand
before cracking his skull with the flat of the blade. He leaped down from the
horse almost immediately, using his left arm to ward off cudgel blows from
some bandits while his sword danced with blinding speed through their ranks.
Relieved but puzzled, Benny turned back to find a new opponent, only to
see that the remaining bandits were vanishing back into the trees. Keeping an
eye on the fleeing varlets in case they returned, she jogged back towards the
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