A group of seven men approaches. They are following the road east, and are making good time, neither tarrying nor running. Their faces are expressionless. One is dressed as a cleric of some sort, and another is dressed as a traveling drummer. The others could be peasants or serfs going from one location to another for the harvest season. Each carries some sort of weapon. It is plain that they are not soldiers by their haphazard way of walking. They do not seem to be joking loudly or singing as they advance.
"There they come!" shouts a sergeant at the rear guard. "Sixteen o'clock! On your guard!"
The two groups, separated by about half a mile, will meet in only a minute's time. It has been decided that the patrol, which now consists of ten men, will remain hidden and silent while the enemy passes by. If they break into combat, it would be better to attack them from behind.
One soldier, who was standing just a few feet away from me, suddenly shouted out: "Halt!"
Everyone froze. We were all looking forward. Suddenly there appeared two horses approaching us on the road. Both riders wore green helmets with gold designs.
We could hear the clatter of hooves from both sides. A moment later we heard the voice of the sergeant: "Two thousand! Two thousand!"
The two columns had finally met.
.
