The Peasants Sounded a Hard Vengeance

Their pitchforks once rusted shined now clear and clean.  They pointed at every compass quadrant and at all of the interstices between.

The children formed a busy hub around a maypole that they themselves had erected.  They handed cider out in tin cups, from a central horses' trough, cleaned especially for the purpose.

Everyone waited in stillness for the battle to begin.