The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (30 page)

Conn rode out with Derryth at the head of the last hundred.

‘Two down, ten to go…’

Derryth smiled as he shook his head at Conn.

‘I am only now just discovering the depths that you will sink to… I thought using bagpipes was low – but clothing…have you no self-respect?’

‘None whatsoever…’

From the town of Azali to that of Jader was less than seven days and it didn’t take long for signs of the ‘battle’ for Pelva to appear; there was a greater concentration of traffic on the road. Most were Rakians and unluckily for them they quickly found themselves ‘under arrest’, and redirected to Azali under escort. Conn had started out with many more men than he needed because he knew that he was going to lose lots along the way, and his newer squadrons of wiga were directed to lesser tasks. Half way to Jader they found a fyrd waiting for them; Silekians, they easily identified by the black bear of Pelva, and the crossed battle axes of the Healdend of Silekia. Conn had been looking forward to finally meeting the Wealdend.

Conn halted the column by drums and waited and watched as several riders cantering from the west. Conn recognized one as they arrived. They all dismounted.

Conn went and greeted an old friend. ‘Sebbi il Pelva, so good to see you again. What are you doing here? I expected you to be going towards Abri.’ The Eaorl of Pelva was looking fit and healthy. With him was a woman in her early thirties, dressed in battle armour.

‘Conn il Taransay, you can’t imagine how good it is to see you again. I amended your instructions a little. We decided that the best place for us was with you. My Wealdend was desirous of meeting the person who had done so much for her demesne.’ He gestured to the woman at his side. ‘This is Ailidh, Wealdend of Silekia.’

Conn bowed and she bowed back. She seemed bemused at the sight of his fyrd – and of course the two hundred Twacuman. ‘Welcome Wealdend. It is a pleasure to meet you.’ He then introduced them both to Derryth and his commanders. The Eaorl of Jader bowed respectfully.

Ailidh was pretty but she looked tired. ‘They say many things of you, Eaorl, and it seems that some are not wrong – it is unfathomable to me that you Twacuman wiga in your fyrd. The last that I know to do so was my ancestor, Goibniu.’

Derryth answered her. ‘I have a life debt so I’m just hanging around to repay him. The rest are here to help me do that. It’s getting fairly tedious.’

Ailidh wasn’t sure if Derryth was kidding or not, but she smiled in response. Conn invited them all under a large tree where a chairs were set and food and drink prepared.

Sitting, Sebbi decided to commence the briefing. ‘When we were informed of your plans and your ‘request’, we immediately prepared to do as you suggested. The Eaorl of Jasi combined his forces with Gela and as soon as we arrived, the inhabitants fled. I have left my brother in charge while Gela and Jasi return to reinforce Silekia. Ailidh sent most of her wiga with the Folctoga to Abri.’

Conn brought him up to date with events in Tegeste and Azali, and his expectations that the Eaorls of Melnik and Salvia would have united forces by now and on their way to Lugia. He expected contact after Jader.

It was now late, and as they sat, Logistics started to set up camp for the evening – Jader was within a day’s march from their current position, and would be recoverable the next day. Sebbi and Ailidh sat and watched in amazement at the efficiency of the fyrd in preparing the camp and feeding animals and people – but then half of those that marched weren’t fighters.

With the two fryds bedded down for the evening, they retired. Conn had invited Ailidh to stay in his camp; they had a yurt for her, and a hot bath had been prepared for her pleasure. She was delighted to accept. At around midnight, Conn returned to his yurt after inspecting his fyrd – it wasn’t necessary but it was an old habit. He was just inside when Ailidh appeared at his doorway.

Conn was surprised to see her. ‘Wealdend – how can I help you?’

‘May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ He gave her a folding stool to sit on. The low light from the lamps flickered softly around the room. She had changed out of the battle armour that he had manufactured for her and was wearing the undergarment – the silken Happi and it would seem little else. Her hair was wet and it seemed that she had come straight from her bath.

‘Did you enjoy the bath?’

‘It was magnificent – thank you.’

Conn waited.

Well,’ she started, ‘I’ve always found it best to be direct since becoming a widower Wealdend. Would you care to fornicate?’

‘I’d love to...’

~x258~

The next day they were within sight of the villageh by mid-afternoon. Scouts returned to say that they were seeing smoke in the distance. It would seem that the retreating Rakians had suddenly decided to destroy the village as they left.

With an immediate order to advance in haste, Conn led out on the black stallion with the Twacuman in close pursuit. The covered the last few miles in minutes and galloped into Jader with a number of houses burning whilst men tried to set other alight. The former residents of the village had all been moved to a field so that they could watch their homes burn to the ground.

Being on the fastest horses, Conn and the Twacuman were the first to arrive and with their stronger bows, Rakians arsonists started to fall rapidly. A group of ten wiga turned to attack Conn but then turned around and fled as they saw the long line of charging horses coming their way; to their eternal mistake; soon all that remained were empty horses.

Conn’s sudden arrival caused chaos and the Rakian “Eaorl” was still trying to escape before he found the a dozen rides racing through the gates of the palisades. He was the last to die before everyone else surrendered.

Outside, as the fyrd arrived they turned to help the residents save buildings – thatch rooves burnt quickly and well. Soon most of the fires had been extinguished or at least controlled, and most of the village looked like it would survive. Conn rode towards the donjon, and found Godfred, the Eaorl of Jader, inside the walls. He reported in on casualties, survivors and prisoners.

‘Most of the Rakians departed days ago; all those that were here were from Pelva – including the former Eaorl. He died here – he was trying to loot the donjon as we arrived. Some of his men surrendered – they are mostly young men – recent reinforcements.’

Conn followed Godfred inside the hall, and they awaited for the arrival of Sebbi and Ailidh. As soon as Logistics turned up they went to work on the injured as prepared a funeral pyre for the deceased Silekian tilia. The Rakians were buried in a long grave dug by their surrendering colleagues. Logistics also prepared a meal for everyone in the town as they hadn’t eaten properly for some time. It was minimal but it was better than anything they had eaten for a long time.

The next morning, Conn led out the fryd for Melnik; another seven days away, leaving the town in the hands of the young Eaorl. A couple of days out, riders from Wilgar’s fyrd were waiting for him in a small Thane demesne. Conn read the message before passing it to Ailidh.

Derryth looked at him. He liked his information spoken.

Conn indulged him. ‘Both Emona and Sirido are in our hands now – not too much loss of life – except for the Rakians in Emona. The usurper Eaorl had greater ambitions than abilities and led a charge against Wilgar’s troops. His company was totally destroyed.’

‘This has all been too easy? Where are all the Rakians?’

‘In Melnik is my guess. It is close enough to provided support to the other demesne.’

They ran into the fryd a day out of Melnik. They had also been further contact by a messenger from Wilgar’s fyrd. He was on the other side of Melnik; it was surrounded. Conn’s scouts advised that a considerable fyrd of Rakians lay ahead of them – perhaps over a thousand cavalry and infantry waiting for his now diminished force of less than just over five hundred men – including the Wealdend’s wiga.

Derryth looked behind him as men prepared for battle; putting on armour – themselves and their horses in some cases.

‘How many have we got again?’

“Four hundred –give or take.’

‘I’d be happier if it was give or take a thousand. So four hundred against a thousand.’

‘Remember these are all trained by me – they are not any normal four hundred.’

‘I’m glad to hear that. Still think you’re crazy.’

Conn gave the signal and the drummers started drumming and the pipers started piping with Conn’s soundtrack to war. Conn led the Twacuman out and as the crossed on rise in the road they looked down at the Rakian fyrd; they were well position; they had secured a high spot on the next rise, and they were lined up orderly; presenting a formidable line of infantry, with the cavalry in the rear.

The Sagittari, all Twacuman, lined up behind Conn and Derryth and as they started to canter down the hill the riders filed along behind – two lines of a hundred, At bow range Conn went right and Derryth went left and they fanned out and skirted the waiting Rakians; and in five minutes several thousand arrows rained down on the waiting wiga; concentrating their fire at the center of the mass of wiga. Soon, men started to fall, they were not near prepared for such and onslaught and with every man down, it was easier to get the next. Conn and Derryth then doubled back and crossed paths; the horses were all Elfina and they operated without instruction from their riders, who fired at will – it is hard to protect yourself from arrow from the top and in front.

As the magic of the final Sagittari passed them by, and as the dust cleared they stared headfirst into a column of two hundred cataphracts – in full armour – charging the already decimated line. A hundred men died from the pikes they carried; another hundred from the swords that cut their way through. The Rakian fyrd folded from the onslaught – cavalry turned and fled for the supposed safety of the walls of Melnik but ran head first into Wilgar’s larger force of a thousand men. Infantry fell to the ground and cavalry with nowhere to go, surrendered on mass.

Conn rode back to the command post to report in. Poor Ailidh was off her horse retching behind a tree, while Sebbi sat ash faced on his horse.

‘I don’t know what to say – that was horrible.’

Conn agreed. The lethalness of his fyrd was sickening – even too someone who had seen as much war as him. Death by arrow, lance or sword was a brutal way to die. With Ailidh back in her saddle, the rode down towards the carnage, as the battle field was being systematically cleaned; the dead were being removed while the wounded treated; and those fit and able were set to work digging a huge grave as there was too many of them for a pyre. A pyre was built for Conn’s losses – and that included two Twacuman. About three hundred Rakians were amongst the deceased.

Derryth was conciliatory. ‘They died well – what more can we ask.’

The Rakian losses were more severe – though the former Eaorl of Melnik was just injured and now in custody. The less experienced Rakian wiga had simply surrendered when given the chance. As they rode around the battle field, they were joined by Wilga and Cathal, who greeted their Wealdend for the first time. After the pleasantries, Wilga reported that they had control of the town, and all resistance had been squashed and it was still in one piece. There were a dozen families there from Rakia – including the Eaorl’s family.

Conn was astounded. ‘Did he think he was going to win? Where is he now?’

The former Eaorl, was brought to them, and was identified as Riddock il Motya. He was older, about 50, and he looked terrible – he seemed to have fallen from his horse and been trampled by others. He bowed.

‘Are you Amargein’s brother?’

‘Yes I am. I presume you are the Eaorl of Eriak?’

‘I am. I had the pleasure of your brother’s company in Trokia.’ Sibbe and Ailidh looked at him curiously, and Conn explained.

‘Amargein il Motya was the leader of the Rakian forces in the Trokian war – he was captured and ransomed.’ He looked back at Riddock. ‘I was sorry to hear your brother died in prison.’

Riddock was surprised that Conn knew. ‘Fallon was not happy about the result – and paying the ransom put everyone into debt. Are you going to ransom me as well – my family has nothing left to pay…’

‘Probably not –I think that you can expect to be in our company for some time. Probably safer anyway.’

Riddock shrugged. He gestured to the men around the battle field. ‘You were lucky today. Do you think that you can defeat Rakia with this many men? You have no chance!’

As Riddock turned around, he was confronted by the sight of several Twacuman walking towards him. He obviously hadn’t realized they were there in the battle. He turned back to Conn with shock in his voice.

‘You have Twacuman in your Fyrd? How is that possible?’

Conn ignored him. ‘If I had a Ryal for every time someone asked that, I’d be even richer than I am now.’

They stayed two nights in Melnik; Conn had all the wiga hard at work cleaning up; over a thousand men can do a lot in the field as well as the village harvesting, repairing or fixing. On the last night, they gathered in Wilgar’s hall; it was now presentable. Conn had ordered a full dress dinner and his Corporals, Captains and Majors came in their best; those that had been in Trokia wore the appropriate medals. Wilga wore five; the Bravery, Courage and Valor medals as well as the campaign medal, and the Order of the Cirice Breast Star.

Conn explained them all to Ailidh.

‘I’ll have to get some made…’

‘You already have… I’ve even given some out.’

She looked at Sebbi. He shook his head. ‘I have no idea to what you refer.’