Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 39: The Battle to Reclaim Maple Leaf Manor (V) – Part Two

Beryon swung his sword forward, and the buglers sounded the horn of the final assault. Over two hundred Brick soldiers charged in with wild abandon. The soldiers of Norandon Castle, led by Eomer, also poured in, though Beryon had instructed them to spend less time in the melee and more time searching the manor’s grand hall and storerooms for valuables. After all, their share of military exploits was already substantial, and now it was time to embark in earnest on the second purpose of their expedition: to amass wealth.

Beryon and Viscount Merry waited until the battle was nearly over before entering. By then, only a single pirate was left, cornered by the rest—none other than their leader, Hamm. His combat prowess was terrifying; seven or eight Brick soldiers had already fallen to his blade. Now, he stood alone. Several knight-commanders seemed inclined to try to capture him alive, but Hamm was too formidable. Bleeding from numerous wounds, he was still able to slay any county or peasant soldier who ventured too close, so none dared approach.

Covered in blood, Hamm leaned on his battle-axe in the open yard. Blood gushed from wounds at his thigh and waist, and he couldn't even be bothered to bandage himself, knowing full well his end was near. He was determined to take as many with him as possible before his strength failed.

His shield had been shattered earlier and discarded; his helmet had been lost in the early moments of the siege. Now, he resembled a wild beast trapped in a pit—aware that death was imminent, yet baring his teeth, prepared to kill any living thing that came within reach.

When Beryon and Viscount Merry rode up, the soldiers parted to let them through. Dismounting, the two men approached the front lines to look at the pirate chief. Viscount Merry, smiling, turned to a squire beside him and said, "Go and ask if he’s willing to surrender. If he does, we can spare his life."

The squire strode to the front and shouted, "By order of our lord, the county governor, if you surrender now, you will be spared. Drop your weapon and yield!"

Hamm threw back his head and laughed wildly at the offer of clemency. "You lowly Brick dogs want me to surrender? Ha! Go tell that brain-addled governor of yours that if his mother is willing to be my mistress, then maybe I'll surrender and be his father!"

The distance was not great—Viscount Merry heard every word loud and clear. His face turned livid with fury, and he ground out an order through clenched teeth: "Shoot him full of arrows, and throw his corpse to the wild dogs in the hills!"

No one dared disobey. Over fifty archers and crossbowmen immediately riddled Hamm with arrows, transforming the blood-soaked pirate chief—so fierce and skilled at arms—into a human pincushion. After butchering many, his own savage tongue ensured his end in a hail of arrows—a fitting retribution.

With the pirate menace eliminated, the knight-commanders began to frantically search the manor for valuables. But the pirates had moved all their treasure and goods to their ships in advance, so little of worth was found.

They did, however, discover over two hundred of the manor’s original serfs, as well as more than a hundred and fifty merchants, caravan guards, craftsmen, and other captives taken by the pirates during their months of raiding—more than three hundred and fifty people in all. Though now freed from captivity, Viscount Merry’s demeanor made it clear that he had no intention of granting them liberty.

Beryon knew where the pirates’ real loot was hidden, but Viscount Merry and the others did not. The viscount ordered two captured pirates to be interrogated. At first, they were defiant, but after several rounds of torture, they confessed everything they knew.

Upon hearing their account, Viscount Merry hurriedly sent men to the docks to check if the pirate ships remained. Their efforts were in vain; the ships were long gone. The viscount and all the knight-commanders were sorely disappointed. They had expected to seize great wealth after the manor’s fall, only to have their hopes dashed. The disappointment was writ large on every face. So many had died, and for what? At least there was a good stock of grain in the storerooms—they would not go hungry.

While Beryon was overseeing the gathering of the corpses, he noticed that the pirates’ weapons and armor were of excellent quality. Nearly every pirate had a pouch containing several dozen silver coins, and chiefs like Hamm carried a gold coin or two. When all was tallied, the spoils amounted to more than five thousand denars, over fifty full suits of armor, all the pirates’ weapons, and the manor’s horses, oxen, and livestock. All in all, it was not an insignificant haul.

To soothe his men’s disappointment, Viscount Merry declared with a hearty laugh, "No matter what, we won the day, and that is cause for celebration! But truly, this is far too little loot, not nearly enough to go around. That’s not acceptable.

Here’s what I propose: before we set out, I promised that after retaking Maple Leaf Manor, each knight-commander would receive an extra hundred denars, and that still stands. Furthermore, I and the county will put up another five thousand denars, bringing the total, with our spoils, to over ten thousand denars—plus the armor and weapons, of course. We’ll divide it all up."

The subsequent division of spoils was even more raucous than the war council. Two squires got into a brawl over who had earned the greater share, and the scene descended into chaos.

In the end, under Viscount Merry’s judgement, the ten thousand denars were divided as follows: each of the seven knight-commanders, Beryon among them, received five hundred denars; the family of the fallen knight-commander received a thousand as compensation; two thousand went to the county soldiers; and the grievously wounded Sir Pippin, who remained unconscious, was allotted a thousand.

Other fallen knightly retainers and squires received between one and three hundred denars in compensation, and the surviving regular soldiers were awarded between two and five denars each. The city militia, whose numbers had been halved in the initial assault, received only six hundred denars—this, thanks to Beryon’s advocacy and Viscount Merry’s pity.

Had it been left to the other knight-commanders, the city militia would have been lucky to get a hundred denars between them. After all, their leader held no title, and they had won little distinction in battle.