Pharon handed the delighted potboy a battered silver penny, the head of a long dead Tarsh king still vaguely recognisable. He'd really have to get some more of those coins but the paymaster insisted on giving him newly minted lunars. Still that was a problem for another day. The boy had confirmed what he expected, the warband of the Grinning Bear clan planned to attack the supply train from Smithstone as they usually did on the day the Red Moon was dying. Apparently the failure of two other warbands to return this week had only encouraged their boasting. "Must have got lost" was one of the quotes the boy had reported. "Aye" thought Pharon, "lost on the road to hell".
Time to get moving, he'd already ensured that the convoy was reinforced by a century of spearmen. Enough to give the clan a fight but not enough to frighten them off. They'd probably think it was a sign there was something especially valuable this time.
So a few hours later he stood hidden while the rebels set up their ambush, as expected there were about sixty in total, maybe twenty veterans and twice that number of youngsters. If the escorting century was at full strength they'd be outnumbered but he'd yet to see a shieldwall century at much over half strength since he got here. Not that they had any chance of winning, he was working on the basis wouldn't run before the rebel's charge hit.
There was the convoy, he signalled the hundred hillmen he'd brought with him to prepare. As it approached the blind bend in the road the rebels struck. With a wild cries they hurled themsleves on the convoy but the centurion was ready and had his spearmen formed to receive the charge in time. As the ambush was sprung Pharon led him men silently down the hill reaching the fight just as the spearmen started to drop their shields and spears to make a run for it. The rebels didn't know what hit them, half the veterans fell before they had a chance to turn round and the rest found themselves outnumbered. Trapped between the reformed shieldwall and Pharon's hillmen the rebels chose to surrender rather than fight a hopeless battle.
Pharon congratulated the centurion while his men stripped the prisoners of weapons, armour and magic before binding them so that they could hobble. With the prisoners carrying their dead and wounded the convoy moved off again while half the hillmen ranging ahead as scouts. Less than a mile further on Pharon called a halt where trees came close to the road. Previously he'd killed all prisoners and hidden the bodies, now it was time to send a message to all rebels. Within minutes the air rang with screams and the sound of hammer on nail as prisoners and corpses where nailed to the trees. He couldn't wait for them to die from crucifixion so went round slashing their chests so they would bleed to death fairly quickly. While they did that the convoy continued its journey and the hillman sat around resting before heading back to camp. A job well done.