The Dragon's Banner (12 page)

Around him they stood, but five of the five
hundred he had led there, and the only ones who still stood with
their lord. Despite his command, none moved, for they could not
bring themselves to leave their master to die alone in the bitter
cold. Behind them lay the battlefield, now a hillside covered with
broken swords, tattered flags, and the shattered bodies of the
fallen, silent but for the moans of the dying and the screeching of
the carrion birds.

Arailt spoke again, blood welling from his
mouth as he struggled to form the words. "Do you hear me not?
Begone! All of you! To the king, for you must tell him the Picts
are all united, and they move south in great force. Go now, before
you are trapped. I need no man's help to die."

The warriors finally heeded their lord's
commands, and they ran south through the deep forests, leaving
Arailt, a lord of the Kingdom of Rheged, Marshal of the North, as
he bid them do. Yet too late they were already, for the woods were
full of Pictish warriors hunting for survivors from the battle.
Together they encountered a group of three, tall warriors clad in
filthy plaid tunics, now stained with blood, their painted faces
framed by rough hanks of greasy brown hair. Wounded already were
the five soldiers of Rheged, and ill-fit to battle new foes. They
fought with courage and desperation and prevailed, though four of
them fell slaying their enemies.

The last of the warriors, Caelin, was but a
youth, and this had been his first battle. Now he was all that
remained, and leaving his slain and dying comrades, he made his way
south through the woods. His only hope was in stealth, for he had
twice been pierced by Pictish spears, and he had not the strength
remaining to face even a single enemy. Through the bristly
snow-covered brush he made his way, listening carefully to avoid
the roving bands of his foes.

For five days he staggered onward, first
through the forests and then the hilly country to the south.
Finally, he emerged into the open plains of Llwyfenydd then,
half-blind, delirious with exhaustion, and frozen to the bone he
reached the fields on the outskirts of King Urien's capital at
Carlisle. Across the frozen River Eden and to the gates of the town
he stumbled, and falling to his knees he gasped his message. "I
must see King Urien, for I have been sent from the field of battle
by Lord Arailt, Marshal of the North, who has been slain by the
Picts."

The gate guard ran out with a skin of water,
putting it to Caelin's mouth and urging him to drink. Calling madly
to the townsfolk who had begun to gather at news of the new
arrival, he enlisted two of the largest men, and bade them help him
carry the youth to the king's stronghold.

Inside the city, many of the buildings near
the old Roman walls had been taken down and replaced by small
cultivated fields. Others stood empty, partially dismantled for
their stone and building materials. It was clear that many more
people had lived here during imperial times, and though the old
walls were still maintained and guarded, the inhabited sections
could have fit in half the space within.

Over the frozen mud of the rutted main street
they bore Caelin, for Urien's keep lay at the far end of the town,
adjacent to the southern wall. Nervous townsfolk gathered along
their route, for Caelin's words that the Picts had attacked and the
Marshal of the North was dead were spreading rapidly. The guards at
the keep took Caelin from the townsfolk and carried him inside.
Into the king's throne room they bore him, and they put him into a
chair and wrapped a fur covering around his shivering body.

A moment later a door in the back of the room
opened and King Urien entered. Tall was Urien, with long red hair
and pale skin. Clad in a crimson tunic, leather pants, and boots,
and covered with a fur-trimmed cloak and gloves, the king trod
silently toward his throne. Young was Urien, of fewer years even
than Caelin, though his bearing was noble, and deftly did he carry
the weight of kingship.

Caelin, seeing the king enter, recovered
somewhat from his delirium and attempted to rise, his face
contorted in pain as he tried, without success, to stand. Urien,
seeing the wounded man stir, raised his hand. "Nay, honorable
warrior. Do not rise, for it is clear that thou has done thy duty
and rendered service to make any king proud. I pray thee, sit and
tell me what message you bear from Lord Arailt."

Caelin took a breath and then spoke,
struggling to keep his voice even and strong. "My king, I stand
before thee and offer my fealty, now and always. Come I from the
northern borders, for there has been a terrible battle. Word had
come to Lord Arailt that the Picts had been burning villages and
carrying off slaves. Thinking this to be a raid, Lord Arailt called
out the northern levy and marched against the foe."

Caelin's voice began to falter, his throat
still parched. Urien motioned, and a servant brought a cup to
Caelin. "Drink," said Urien, "and gather yourself. For a terrible
ordeal have you had."

Caelin drank, a sip at first, and then
deeply. When he had finished, he cleared his throat and continued.
"I thank your majesty. To Carlisle, Lord Arailt sent a messenger,
but likely he was slain, for we did not know at the time that the
whole of the forest was full of Pictish warriors.

"North we marched, five hundred strong, and
when our scouts found their host we formed for battle and charged.
Our attack pushed them back, and we burned their camp and claimed
the hillside. Yet this was naught but a trap, for the force we
fought was only a tithe of their true strength, and next they
assailed us from all sides. Banners from all Pictish nations we
saw, for they have banded together it would seem. Though always
there have been raids, never has this happened before that they
fielded such a force. There were twenty of them to each of us, and
we were surrounded. In a circle we fought, and many we slew, though
our battle was a hopeless one. Finally, our circle was broken, and
in small groups we fought on. In the end, Lord Arailt fell,
surrounded by the bodies of foes he had slain."

Caelin paused for a moment and took another
drink from the cup. "His guards had all fallen, and alone he was
fighting when he was pierced by a Pictish spear and staggered back
from the force of the blow. I saw, and I was running to him when a
giant Pict swung his greatsword. Lord Arailt had dropped his guard
as he fell back, and I saw a great spray of blood as the enemy's
blade tore through my lord's armor and rent open his chest. In
horror I watched, and then I screamed and ran forth to avenge my
master. Three of us were upon the great Pict warrior, and together
we overthrew him, for his strength was such that no one of us could
have bested him.

"Into the woods we bore Lord Arailt, though
it was clear his wounds were mortal. Resolved we were to stay with
him while yet he lived and defend his body against defilement if
needs be, but he ordered us to come to you and speak of what had
happened. Five of us set out south together, and four were slain on
the journey. Providence and God's good grace saw me to your majesty
that I might fulfill my lord's last command."

Urien sat silently for a moment considering
what Caelin had told him. Indeed, this was grave news, for if the
Picts, who had always warred against each other more than they did
against his realm, were united under a single banner, he would be
hard-pressed to stop them. "Caelin, we thank you for your devotion
in delivering these dark tidings. Wounded we can see you are, and
we would have your hurts tended now. Your lord died a hero, and we
shall honor his memory. You we would have join our own guard, for
such valor and loyalty is to be recognized and rewarded."

Caelin again tried to struggle to his feet,
for the king's kindness overcame him, and he was shamed to be
sitting in his sovereign's presence. His strength, alas, was not
equal to the task, and again the king waved for him to rest and
remain in his chair.

"What of the northern levy what losses were
suffered?" There was great worry written on Urien’s face as he
spoke.

Caelin replied slowly, painfully. "I know of
nary a man save me who escaped the field, though some may have done
so that I did not see. Our losses were grievous, and it must be
that at least nine of ten who fought on that hillside still there
remain.”

Urien maintained his strong countenance, for
he was king, and fear he could not now show. Yet shocked he was at
the terrible losses, and unnerved at the size and ferocity of the
enemy host. When he spoke he said naught but this: "Caelin, it is
past time I saw that your wounds were mended and you were fed and
rested. Again, my gratitude for your devotion. We shall speak again
when you have slept." He turned to one of the guards. "Prepare a
room and bear him hence. His wounds are to be tended, and he is to
be fed. Then he is to rest. Let none disturb him."

The guard called into the hall, and a moment
later several servants came in bearing a litter on which they
placed Caelin and bore him out of the throne room. Behind them the
great doors closed, and King Urien was left alone with his
counselors.

"Call up the levy at once. All warriors of
Rheged are to assemble at Carlisle, for we shall need every sword.
Send out the runners to each county, and tell my lords that they
are commanded to be here with all their warriors in three days, for
we may have no longer than that before we are besieged. They are to
march day and night if needs be." He turned to his chamberlain.
"Prepare two riders, for one I shall send to King Lot and the other
to King Constantine. If we are assailed by the Picts, so must Lot
be, or else in grave danger of attack. No friend was he to my
father, yet the northern barbarians are a foe to both of us.
Indeed, at the council at Caer Guricon, he and I clasped hands and
vowed to aid each other against the Pictish enemy. We shall hold
him to his oaths."

Urien dismissed the counselors to complete
the tasks he had given them, but long he remained, considering
stratagems he might employ, for he had no thought about how to
fight so mighty a foe. Finally, he retired to his chamber and took
out parchment to draft letters to Lot and Constantine, for help he
would surely need if he was to prevail.

In the days that followed Caelin's arrival,
there was much activity in the court of Urien. South to Caer
Guricon he dispatched his best rider, and indeed, to the other
capitals he sent messengers as well, beseeching his prospective
alliance partners to march north to his aid. Northeast to Luthien
he send his missive as well, though he knew well that if he was
sorely pressed, King Lot must needs be under even more dire
threat.

Much was done to prepare the city for a
siege, and in this the king had an advantage, for he had already
been preparing for war, and the storehouses were bursting with
grain. Weapons and armor were stockpiled, and the walls had been
made ready for defense. Warriors began arriving from Arailt's
doomed force, and it became apparent that, while the battle had
indeed been disastrous, far more soldiers had escaped than Caelin
had guessed. Fully a third of those who'd marched with Arailt yet
lived, and these were now rallying at Carlisle.

Across the river, north of the city, was the
old Roman fort at Uxelodunum, built centuries before along the
great wall. Urien ordered that it be readied and garrisoned, and he
rode north to view the progress himself. Along the wall built by
the emperor Hadrian he planned to delay the enemy. Though his
forces were far too small to man the massive fortification, he
would compel the enemy to besiege both Uxelodunum and Carlisle,
lest they leave hostile forces intact in their rear. The Picts
would be strongest in battle in the open field and weakest when
attacking fortified places. He would give them two sieges to
undertake.

Behind the warriors trickling in from the
north came the refugees, townsfolk and farmers fleeing the
invaders, miserable and hungry and destitute. Urien grieved for his
people, but he ordered that none be allowed to enter Carlisle,
sending them instead further south to survive as they could. His
capital would likely endure a siege, and he could feed no more
mouths, lest all should fall.

By the end of the third day after Caelin's
arrival, over 1,800 warriors of the levy had reached Carlisle,
adding to Urien's guard of 300. Five hundred men the king placed in
Uxelodunum, along with enough store to last a year. The fortress
would lay in the rear of any army besieging Carlisle, and the king
commanded it be held at all costs. There he placed Owain, his
father's brother and a warrior of great renown, and bade him defend
the place to the last.

At dawn on the fourth day his scouts
returned, bringing the news that the Picts had indeed come in great
numbers. Over the wall they poured, and toward Carlisle they
streamed, ten thousand strong. At first they ignored the fort, but
Owain attacked them from behind with 200 mounted warriors,
inflicting great slaughter before he withdrew, his own losses
slight.

The foe then divided into two groups, the
smaller assaulting Uxelodunum and the larger hurling itself against
Carlisle. For two days, ill-equipped for attacking fortified
places, they threw themselves at the walls, with crude ladders
hastily built from felled trees. In a battle frenzy they charged
and charged again, heedless of losses until finally they pulled
back, leaving 1,500 of their number dead or dying beneath the
walls. For two days and two nights the king was on the
fortifications, fighting with his men, and many foes did he slay.
On the last day, Caelin found the king on the wall and bade his
permission to join the fight, though his hurts were still unhealed.
A Pictish chieftan he slew before his wounds opened again and he
was borne back to the keep.