Talk was not of the impending doom. Although a quiet determination was felt throughout, the banter was light hearted, almost jovial, not what would be expected from twenty men about to face certain death.

"Shall we make a go of it then, lads?" Conor asked his companions, "Let the bloody buggers know who they be dealin' with!"

Silently each man reached for his weapons and lined up behind Conor, then rushed from the burning stronghold, screaming the war cries of a victorious army. Twenty men racing to battle five hundred.