Chapter 618 Loud Thunder
The lights of the church flickered on and off in the rain, and the dim candlelight reflected the image of the Holy Lord hanging on the pillars on and off. Its pupil-less eyes silently stared at Ansel on the bed.
Ansel's face turned slightly pale, and he was sleeping peacefully after drinking the medicinal soup.
If it weren't for his bare feet occasionally kicking away half of the blanket, Bryson wouldn't have been able to tell that he was a young man under twenty years old before him.
A child less than twenty years old actually taught him more in three months than he had learned in twenty years of study in a missionary school.
Bryson turned to look at one side of the room. The cold wind knocked on the window, bringing with it the shouts of the mountain people outside and the sound of wood crashing.
Lalor's screams were mixed with the sound of rain: "Quickly, pile up these fences, you two, dig the trench deeper!"
Following his voice was Old Laf's shout: "Have you pried open the blacksmith shop? What are you afraid of? Just treat it as credit and tie the dagger to a long wooden stick, just like we usually hunt wild boars!"
"Those who are good at archery, come to the back and just think of those cavalry as foxes and wolves."
I don’t know when, Lalor and Lao Lafo turned into commanders, and their shouts alternated without stopping for a moment.
Under the gray sky, nearly two hundred male and female mountain residents were efficiently setting up spiked wooden stakes and fences around the church.
In the small square in front of the church, a semicircular spiked wooden stake was erected, while mountain men carrying makeshift spears and flails made of daggers walked back and forth in the square.
I have to say that the martial virtues of the mountain people are more abundant than those of the plains farmers, so I am not praising the mountain people.
They usually have to deal with monsters, bandits, bears, wolves, pigs, and lycanthropes wandering in the mountains. It is easy to do these things. Otherwise, the mountain people can be used as mercenaries, and they don't need much training.
However, can these two hundred people really resist the infantry led by two knights?
Listening to the shouts outside the window, Bryson slowly sat down and put his hands on his knees.
Although these mountain people are extremely ferocious, there are probably less than ten of them accompanied by the Knight Breathing Technique, and they lack armor and weapons.
Does it really work to just let them fight against the knights?
Moreover, according to Ansel, the Holy Armament Court may not allow the Salvation Army to directly participate in the war, and the attitude of the township police officers is similar to that of Adrian Knight, which is a kind of ambiguity.
If the Sacred Arms Court chooses to compromise, then the monks and monks like them will probably die in vain.
Even if those knights just want to take Ansel away, with Ansel's current condition, once he gets caught in the rain, a small cold may turn into a big wind chill.
At that time, the conscience of the knights will have to be tested, but the conscience of the knights is the thing that Bryson least believes in.
Looking down at Ansel, Bryson didn't know whether he was asking him or himself: "As for it? Why bother?"
In the past, when Bryson was confused or in crisis, Ansel could always tell a lot of truths or come up with good ideas, but now Ansel was lying on the bed without saying a word.
"What should I do?"
Bryson looked at his hands on his knees. Compared with the hands that only held quills in the past, they had many more calluses and wounds.
Some of the cuts he remembered where, but some of the calluses he forgot.
"Someone is coming!" On the wooden tower of the chapel, the mountaineers responsible for the lookout shouted down in the rain.
With a thump in his heart, Bryson quickly walked to the window.
The mountain people around the church stopped what they were doing and looked into the depths of the rain curtain.
The faint sound of horse hooves came from far away, followed by the sound of splashing mud and water.
Gradually, a cavalryman and two followers on mules came running through the rain curtain.
Their figures were as blurry as ghosts, and the rainwater flowed like a stream on their armor that reflected the dim skylight.
The leader was a tall man wearing old leather armor and an oilcloth cloak stained with mud on his shoulders.
The mountain men stood behind the trench. They wore thin waistcoats and hoods on their heads. They held sickles, flails, daggers and spears in their hands. Many of them were trembling.
"Have you received the letter?" The war horse spit out white steam, and the knight took off his helmet, revealing a big shining bald head. "Our martial law army has arrived at the avenue. Hand over the two monks. If you don't resist, we will How about not killing innocent people indiscriminately?”
Lalor shouted to the knight: "Our monk is sick and cannot be exposed to the rain. Come back when the weather clears."
"If you say he's sick, you're sick. Let us go in and see if he's sick?" The bald knight pulled the reins irritably and walked back and forth in front of the spiked stakes.
"No, what if you come in and take them away by force?" Lalor continued, "Let a person throw away his weapon and come in, and I will show him."
"What are you bargaining for? Huh? What are you bargaining for?" The bald knight completely lost his patience, "I don't care if he is sick or not, I will take him away now."
"Then we have no other choice but to resist."
The knight laughed angrily. He turned to his two followers and said, "Listen, if you want to resist, say yes."
"Hahahaha." The two followers riding mules behind them let out dramatic and exaggerated laughter.
Compared to the laughter of the knights and their entourage, the mountain people behind the stakes and trenches were gritting their teeth, and the pitchforks and flails in their hands were even trembling slightly.
"For the last time, hand over the monk and the wool. We won't kill anyone! Otherwise, when the martial law troops behind me come, it won't be so easy to talk to!" After the laughter, the bald knight threatened lightly.
The open space in front of the church was silent. The mountain people stood beside the ditch and wooden piles, exchanging uneasy glances with each other.
After all, from Lalor's mouth, and really seeing the knights coming, they are two completely different concepts.
When the extraordinary knight actually stood in front of them, this sense of oppression was quite different from a few passionate declarations.
Only the rainwater dripped from the eaves, hitting the stagnant water and causing a small ripple.
Some of the mountain people retreated slowly without leaving any trace.
Rain pounded against Bryson's windows, and the shouts, laughter, and rain outside beat against the windows like drumsticks. He stood by the window. The mountain people in the rain were like a field of wheat bent by wind and rain, and the cavalryman was like an iron plow ready to be crushed at any time.
Lalor and Laf Raph would look up at the church from time to time, as if expecting Ansel to come out and say a few words to boost everyone's morale.
Taking a few steps back from the window, Bryson looked down at Ansel, who saw a face much younger than his own.
He looked up and looked around this simple church, but it was more familiar and closer than the mission school where he had lived for twenty years.
He had lived in the parish church for twenty years, but he had only spent time there.
But this is different, this is his church, this is his place, he doesn't stay here just for a doubled salary.
Walking to the door, he picked up a flail leaning against the wall. When he raised his head, the hesitation on Bryson's face was replaced by an inexplicable calmness.
When he walked to the door of the church and opened the door, the rain fell on his face, which was biting and cold.
The mountain people looked at him, and they were all stunned. Lalor strode over, frowned and asked: "Brother Bryson, why did you come out?"
Bryson put the flail on his shoulders and said calmly: "This is my church, the territory of the Holy Lord. Without my permission, not even a knight is allowed to step foot in it."
The rain slid down his brow bone and flowed into the corners of his eyes. After wiping his face, Bryson looked up at the cavalry team in the distance.
He walked to the front of the team step by step, and the surrounding mountain people gave way to the road.
Taking a deep breath, Bryson straightened his chest, looked directly into the knight's disdainful and interested eyes, and waved his flail vigorously: "This is the land of the Holy Lord and the home of His people. Your armor may It can block spears, but it cannot block faith.
To enter this church, yes, before your dirty horse hooves step on the steps, please step over my body first! ”
Bryson's tone was calm but firm, like a shepherd facing a pack of wolves. Although he only held a wooden stick in his hand, he showed no intention of flinching.
The mountain people were stunned for a moment, and then they all tightened their weapons.
The leading knight raised his eyebrows, and a coldness flashed across his face. He rode his horse back and forth in front of the stakes a few more times. Seeing that the morale that had been gradually collapsing was actually stable, he smiled sinisterly:
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"Since you are determined to die, then I will help you. I hope you can still maintain this courage after a while."
He did not continue speaking, but turned around and waved to the cavalry behind him.
The horses' hooves stepped onto the muddy road again and gradually faded away. The sound of rain once again swallowed up the sound of their retreating hooves.
The rain was still falling, getting more and more intense. The mountain people outside the church stood by the trench, no longer looking uneasy.
Their eyes swept back and forth between the church and Bryson. Some people quietly left, while more people returned to their positions.
Lalor looked around and patted Bryson hard on the shoulder: "Brother Bryson, thank you."
Bryson just shook his head and did not answer. He leaned against the wall of the church and silently watched the busy figures of the mountain people.
Three months ago, these people clearly regarded them as strangers or even enemies, but now they took up arms and fought desperately for the Holy Fathers.
These hands that usually work in the fields can actually hold weapons today.
As the knight left, it seemed as if the war had disappeared, but Bryson and others did not relax their vigilance at all, but continued to patrol and send out scouts for investigation.
This time they didn't wait long. The lookout on the wooden tower of the church suddenly shouted: "There is movement, those knights are back!"
Everyone raised their heads, but they couldn't see how many people the knights had brought back. They could only hear the dense footsteps approaching in the distance.
"Get ready!"
"Blow the whistle and call the scouts back!"
"Everyone return to their respective positions!"
Under the shouts of Lalor and Laofu, the mountain people returned to the edge of the spiked wooden stakes in accordance with the measures to guard against the robbers.
However, they used to defend the knight's main house, but today they defend the church.
The spears were soaked by the rain and got wet on the palms of the mountain people. Their tattered clothes clung to their bodies and they were shivering from the cold rain, but they still stood behind the wooden piles.
The wheat straw on the hut shook, and people pursed their lips tightly. The rainwater flowed down their collars and into their backs, but they seemed not to feel it.
The sound of footsteps and horse hooves was getting closer and closer.
It's just that although the sounds of footsteps and horse hooves were there, they stayed outside the door and disappeared.
This made their already tense minds even more tense. Why didn't this happen?
"Did you see clearly? Where are they?"
The lookout on the tower leaned out most of his body, trying his best to open his eyes in the rain, but did not reply for a long time.
Old Raph was so anxious that he was running around in circles: "Speak, don't force me to go up and whip you!"
"They... aren't... why are they black and red... eh? What's wrong with the knight's main residence?" In the blur of rain, the lookout's voice became muffled.
"You should be more accurate, you bastard!" Old Raph was very excited. It was already this time, but this lookout turned out to be unreliable.
"No, I, I can't describe it. A group of mountain people are in front, a group of mountain people are behind, and there are more than a dozen cavalry following... They are going to the knight's main house!"
"Huh?"
(End of chapter)