The Bretwalda (The Casere Book 4) (43 page)

‘Well,’ Conn surprised himself by saying, ‘that is not something you see every day.’

~oo0oo~

A day later they marched out of Marad and heard east. It was another ten days to the capital itself. Scouts soon reported that a large force was rushing their way. Possibly two to three thousand wiga.

‘Whose wiga?’

‘There are four Jarl demesnes to the north –Arum, Sarep, Arwad and Uman. It seems that they have combined together and have decided to slow you down.’

‘Well, let’s not disappoint them.’

They weren’t disappointed if a good battle was what they wanted; Conn chose his battlefield and waited; his Merians at the front this time. When the Axum attacked they found the line impenetrable; the cataphract acted as pikemen and the sagittari as bowmen over the top. As soon as the Ancuman faltered, the Merians surged and they didn’t stop. At the end of the day, almost half of the Axum wiga lay dead on the field; and with all their Jarls and folgere dead; the wiga finally surrendered. There were few Folctoga left either. Only one, the Folctoga of the Jarl of Hazor – from the south. Conn was surprised of his presence.

The folctoga confirmed that they had been called to Axum by the Bretwalda to organize an attack on Jamut – but when they learnt of the uprising in Mende, their wiga were then directed to reinforce the capital. When Najor-jo was sacked they were sent north to wait for the wiga from Arwad.

‘Sacked is a strong word; I don’t think we singed a blade of grass. So how is the so called Bretwalda?’

The folctoga laughed. He was injured, his men had been cut down and he was lucky to be alive. And it seemed like he wasn’t going to be executed.

‘Not well. I proceeded before the Jarl and when he joined us, he told me that the Eagle’s Claw had taken Volci and was heading for Clusium.’ He looked around. Conn had no Eagle’s Claw but he had a lot of Ancuman serving in his fyrd. ‘Treachery has a price; Farstein has made us pay heavily.’

‘How far are we from Axum-jo?’

‘Four days.’

~oo0oo~

Conn did a forced march for the next day; until he found something he was happy with. He then waited. To his right was the sea and to his left was a valley that led to Arwad and the north Jarls. To the south lay the capital of Axum.

‘How many do you think?

‘Close to four, I say. He must have sent two north and two south.’

‘And we have our usual odds of two to one.’

‘Indeed’ It is going to be tight. He had four hundred Mercian left, five hundred Kerchians, five hundred Twacuman and five hundred Southern Isle wiga. All against over four thousand very angry Axum. ‘Some help would be nice.’

They saw the Axum before the Axum saw them; and strung out as they were, Conn attacked with the sagittari. He peppered the lines with thousands of arrows. Losses were significant but they continued forward. The first charge of their axemen was countered by the Merians. Conn had trained them for four years to fight again axemen and they were equipped with two swords; the long double handled claymore and the shorter gladius that was perfect for close combat. One the axemen rushed in, the gladius came out and the entire front line of the axemen died. They were more cautious after that, and withdrew with severe losses. As they didn’t have cavalry, the cataphracts were of limited use – and as expected, they had learnt. Ditches were dug and spikes placed to prevent a charge by the horses. Conn was forced to fight on foot. It was slow and hard work, and their losses piled up.

In a pause of fighting, Conn looked around medic tent.

‘How many have we lost?’

Disetha was a trained medic and she worked tirelessly. It was the second night.

‘Over five hundred dead. Those damn Merians never know when to give up.’

‘The Axum have lost a lot more,’ Derryth added. ‘But they have more to lose. At the rate we are going, there will be three of us left standing at the end.’

At dawn, Conn stood overlooking the battle ground. During the night his Twacuman had collected the wounded from the field. The same wasn’t true for the Axum. There were dying and injured men still at there.

‘What’s that?’ Derryth asked, as he pointed to the hillside to their left. There was a flash of light in the distance, barely noticeable.

‘That, my friend, is what I’ve been waiting for. That is some help. The Nobatian fyrd has arrived.’

Conn gave orders to the drummers and they started. Then the pipers joined in and the Axum looked confused. Conn went to his Majors and told them what was going to happen, and what they needed to do. This was going to turn into the Axum’s equivalent of the Battle of Flodden.

Farrun’s thousand cavalry, attacking from behind the line, shifting the balance completely. As the invigorated Brown Jackets and Merians surged from the front, they didn’t notice the Nobatians until it was too late, and when they turned sideways, Conn, back on his horse, struck from the side with the sagittari.

The two cavalries cut a hole through the middle of the fyrd until father and son were reunited.

‘About time.’

‘Have you seen the size of those mountains. Without the Twacuman, I would never have made it. Remember, the Aebeling is mine. I owe him for abuse beyond the acceptable when I was a boy. I want to see him die on the end of my sword.’

Together they dismounted as they were joined by several Merians led by Albard, Colonel of the Merians, who had fought their way through to his side. Conn pointed to the command tent and the screaming folgere. Conn could feel the anger and hatred being vented by their Gyden as her minions fell and died. Even she, in her blood lust, felt their pain. After he killed the first folgere, they saw him and the folgere poured down to attack him. They no longer had any purpose other than to kill me. They fell as soon as they arrived; the twin swords severing heads from shoulders and piercing hearts, and without Derryth and his bow and the Merians, they would have beaten him, there were so many.

He could hear the Gyden scream and then fade away as the last of her beloved died. As the last one fell, Conn found himself faced with none other than Finnrun. He balanced his great sword in his two hands and attacked. Conn waved to one side and let him go past.

He turned and faced again. He panted. ‘This day might be yours but you will not see it out, Feorrancund! You will feel the end of this sword…’ he attacked and Conn parried with the twin swords; and stepped away.

‘Did you know, Finnrun, that your daughter Steinvi is bedda to Vigbert il Axum – of the Geirfrith clan?

‘Steinvi is dead…she died at her own hand.’ Conn pushed him away and stood to wait as the Aebeling – now probably Healdend – paused to consider.

‘No – I taught her to swim – she swam out to Dagarr in his boat – they escaped together.’

‘No!! That is not possible.’ He raced in, his sword wielded to take off Conn’s head. Conn rolled to one side and stood up. Beside him was Farrun.

‘Also Aebeling, as much as I’d enjoy it, I’m not going to kill you. My son Farrun is.’

Finnrun turned his attention the man standing beside Conn.

‘Farrun – the half breed bastard. He who would claim to be Healdend of Nobatia. Whose arse sought my muscle to make him into a proper man. Have you come to beg forgiveness? Well, drop your trousers, and I’ll make you cry in pleasure.’

Farrun circled him with the longsword. ‘I was twelve and you were thirty. What happened when you tried when I was thirteen, Finnrun? You didn’t tell anyone did you – the reason why you couldn’t walk straight for a day.’

Angered, the Aebeling attacked and Farrun blocked and counter attacked. Soon it was clear that he was playing with the Aebeling, and it only ended when Finnrun knew that as well – when he knew that he was going to die. As finally looked down on great gap in his armour and on his entrails as he tried to keep them in with one hand, he staggered back in disbelief; dropping his sword.

‘No! This is not happening… you promised…’

Around them the battle ground was quite; what was left of the fyrd had surrendered. Conn was now surrounded by a hundred archers and they looked at Aebeling on the ground, dead. Conn turned away. ‘The Healdend – has he been sighted?’

Derryth had returned. ‘He is dead; he has no wounds. I think he died of shock.’

Conn nodded. ‘Probably died when the last folgere died – they were keeping him alive.’ Conn ordered that any Jarls or Folctoga alive were to be brought to him. Soon a dozen men arrived.

‘You are to ride to Axum. Tell anyone you see to surrender or die. Send rider to every fyrd. Tell them to lay down their arms to their opponents. If they don’t they will lose everything; their women will be theow in Meria.’

While that order was being carried out, others surveyed the disaster that was the Battle of Axum. So many had died. The Logistics Squad set to work, using every able bodied man to clean the battle ground of dead and injured. The grave that would hold all these bodies but be very big, and the pyre would be equally as large. Conn escorted Farrun to the tent that served as a bath and they tried to wash the blood from their bodies. It was to no avail. They then went to the main tent, and went to a corner of the room and lay down. Within moments, both were asleep.

~oo0oo~

They left the next morning, for the day’s ride to Axum. Farrun had cobbled together an escort of Nobatians, Kerchians and Twacuman, and they took the bodies of the Aebeling and Healdend with them to be farewelled by their families in Axum-jo.

They experienced no resistance as they made their way into the densely populated and heavily congested town.

As they rode, father and son talked. ‘Where are your bedda?’

‘Home – bothering other people – especially the Healdend; I think that he secretly like the attention. Anyway, Vilotta’s baby is too young and Asema is pregnant.’

‘How did it go in Mende?’

‘Fine.’ He had little opposition in Mende – especially after the folgere mysteriously died, and he was quickly able to reinforce Kolbert in Kura-jo. That had taken longer than expected as the Healdend had reinforced the town with more wiga. Bit of a bloodbath, but the Nobatians enjoyed it. There was another fyrd near Perusa, and he left them to Kolbert, and headed over the mountain to find Conn, when the Makurai had caught up.

Kolbert informed them later that before they could attack the Jarl, he had retired behind the wall of Perusa. They were keeping him contained when the messengers arrived to say that the Healdend was dead.

‘There is one strange thing, however, all the demesnes have reported that girls have been disappearing – between twelve and sixteen years of age.’

~oo0oo~

It was late as they arrived in the town, and as they passed the harbour, Conn fire an arrow high into the sky. He waited for a response and it appeared faintly on the horizon. Njil was heading to port.

Several hundred yards from the castle gates, a group of men sat on their horses waiting for them. Conn rode up and they introduced themselves. One was the Steward; another was a young man; who introduced himself as the son of the Aebeling. They handed over their swords in surrender. Conn directed their attention to the corpses draped over the horses behind them.

‘Have you prepared the pyres?’

The steward nodded.

‘Then I suggest that you take these bodies and arrange for their passage. Make sure you identify them all first – I would hate there to be any confusion over who is dead.’

Servants rushed out and removed the bodies in their shrouds from the horses. Conn turned back to the Steward. ‘Have you made arrangements for my men and animals?’ Conn had sent a list of demands in with the Folctoga.

‘We have – the main barracks have been made available for you and your men.’

‘Good. Lead the way.’

He turned and Conn followed him through the streets to a large enclosure that was the barracks. Given the paranoia of the Healdend, it was well equipped and very close to the castle, inside the bailey. It also was large – and his wiga was easily able to fit. The animals away and security established, Conn directed the Steward to take him to the great hall.

As they walked Conn asked about the folgere. There were none there – there was no noise in his head.

‘Yes, they left this morning – fifteen young men here under the leadership of the Elder. They have gone to Krocla.’

‘Krocla? What is Krocla?’

‘Krocla is an island. It is said to be the home of Ashtoreth.’

No wonder it was important.

Inside the hall, a large crowd waited, and he walked down the long corridor with Farrun at his side. The hall was impressive; it was the largest he had seen, and was very old. As he got near the throne, one of the first to greet him was Asvi il Jamut. She came out of the crowd, bowed, leaning forward in her very low cut dress, and kissed his hand in submission.

They walked together towards the throne. ‘Marquis; I see you finally made it. I have been waiting.’

‘I can see that. You know that Steinvi is alive, don’t you?’

She looked relieved. ‘No, I didn’t. But I hoped. With Dagarr escaping as well, I thought it was a strange coincidence. Is she bedda now?’

‘She is. She should be here within the few days.’ They arrived at the throne and she went to leave.