ALass4Larry
Acrobat
Thanks to everyone for thier comments/suggestions/well wishes!! I hope this story lives up to your expectations! This continues to be a work of fiction and any reference to those in the U2 universe is solely for entertainment purposes. No disrespect intended. Enjoy, and, as always, comments welcome.
Chapter 1
Ireland, 1560
He was weary. More weary than he ever thought possible. He had been gone for four years. Fighting for four years. Fighting to keep those bloody English bastards from invading his home, and the home of his ancestors.
His mind raced with memories, memories so vivid he could hear them, the screams of the villagers, women, children, those too old to take up the sword. He saw their blood time and again, smelled the smoke as their fields burned, heard the laughter of the English, whose torches it was that set those fields on fire.
From all over the Isle men had come together to drive out the invaders and it seemed to finally have worked. He wondered how long this uneasy feeling of peace would last.
His horse stumbled, jolting him back to the present. "Poor beast", he muttered. "You're just as weary as I am." He reached down and patted the animal. "Steady boy, we're almost there." Horse and rider came through the forest and stopped on the ridge. There below lay his village. Lawrence of Artaine was home...
Chapter 1
Ireland, 1560
He was weary. More weary than he ever thought possible. He had been gone for four years. Fighting for four years. Fighting to keep those bloody English bastards from invading his home, and the home of his ancestors.
His mind raced with memories, memories so vivid he could hear them, the screams of the villagers, women, children, those too old to take up the sword. He saw their blood time and again, smelled the smoke as their fields burned, heard the laughter of the English, whose torches it was that set those fields on fire.
From all over the Isle men had come together to drive out the invaders and it seemed to finally have worked. He wondered how long this uneasy feeling of peace would last.
His horse stumbled, jolting him back to the present. "Poor beast", he muttered. "You're just as weary as I am." He reached down and patted the animal. "Steady boy, we're almost there." Horse and rider came through the forest and stopped on the ridge. There below lay his village. Lawrence of Artaine was home...
