The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (37 page)

‘So it all falls apart… but what of Motya and Tindara?’

‘Both are very close to Fallon – I doubt they will change their allegiances. Tindara will have to face the combined forced of Syra, Hera – and the Eaorl of Eriak’s forces – but I don’t expect that they will be that difficult to defeat. Motya and Alric will have to deal with me…’

‘Eriak – isn’t that in Gatina… but isn’t the Eaorl …?’

Conn nodded and smiled. ‘It is hard to be in two places at once – but Devnet of Gatina is leading in my stead. He had learnt much since Pontia.’

‘So you cannot lose?’

‘It tempts fate to say so, but it is inconceivable that Alric will defeat my fyrds. He simply lacks the manpower or resources to do so. He is being starved of both. If he surrendered, he could live, but he will never do that.’

They finally agreed that rebelling against Fallon seemed to have more upsides than downsides. Conn also promised a hundred tons of wheat to be delivered within the week – free of charge – and more deliveries after that. Food was in short supply everywhere in Rakiak and the harvest was yet to be completed. The harvest in Lycia were some of the best, and even Silekia had managed to plant a large winter wheat crop that looked very promising. The seed that Conn had supplied them was robust as well as prolific after

A few days later it was confirmation that Breasal had also decided to “join” the rebellion, and stand aside as Conn’s Tovion fyrd, led by Aelfstan il Jasi, crossed the border into Mylae and headed for Motya. Aelfstan was the younger son of Eaorl Sighard, and had been Wilgar’s deputy – as well as brother of his bedda – for some time. With Wilgar busy in Melnik, Aelfstan had been given command of the fyrd waiting in Tovio.

With that knowledge, Conn led the fyrd north, and then turned southeast; crossing the mountain and heading direct for the town of Motya. He expected to arrive only a few days earlier than Aelfstan.

Instead of following the usual road to Soloes, Conn went direct, using his Twacuman scouts to find a way through the mountain range that ran down the middle of Ilissus. Whist it was arduous with the numbers of horses – each man led two, it saved them days of travel, and they arrived at the river that was the border between Soloes and Moya without opposition. Benen and Ceolred had been their emissaries along the way; to ensure that no one-one did anything rash, and after a few days they were finally ensconced in the small fishing village that sat at the mouth of a river, overlooking Motya.

Scouts had reported that the fyrd of the Eaorl of Motya, around a thousand men strong, were spread out facing the usual rivers crossings, and given the time of year, and river was still high, and with safe crossings limited, Conn was not prepared to put his men at risk by making them cross at single ford. The odds were stacked against them with the Rakians waiting on one side

Conn send riders north to meet with Aelfstan before he arrived. He was to wait at the river until he had further instructions.

Conn needed a diversion, and he sat considering his options in a very run down Inn in the village some miles west, with Benen and Ceolred, and they were looking at maps. Conn’s Twacuman had taken control of the village while the rest of the fyrd waited outside of town.

‘So where is Eaorl of Motya’s residence? Do we know?’

The current Eaorl of Motya was Art, who despite his father’s death in prison, had succeeded to the demesne. Consequently he was probably determined to fight to the last man. Any failure here would look very bad.

Benen pointed out the location of the town – it was less than a day’s ride from their current position, but across the river and bay.

‘His donjon is in the centre – it is fairly well protected with palisades that are high and strong. There are barracks are on the northern most side, and we’ve established that most of his wiga are here’ he pointed, ‘waiting for you to cross.’

‘What’s on this side?’ Conn pointed to the west; the area between the town and their current position. He addressed the question to the Thane of the village.

‘Not a lot – the land is a single demesne but the soil is poor – limited areas are under crop as times have been bad and we don’t have the people we need to work in the fields. I barely have enough able men to fish the oceans.’

‘So how many boats do you have? Boats that can get men safely across to Motya without getting noticed?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Probably fifteen – carry about two hundred.’

‘That will be enough. Also how much bamboo is there around here?’

‘Bamboo? Unlimited quantities. What do you need?’

It took a couple of days to put everything into place and when he explained to Derryth what he had planned; Derryth thought it was a hair brained scheme.

‘We will be on foot.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Without food or anything.’

‘We have to travel light.’

‘Except for the pikes. We are carrying long pikes. Sure we can take coffee?’

Conn organized a hundred five yard bamboo poles to be affixed with metals spikes on one end. From his ranks he collected a hundred of his best trained pikemen and a hundred Twacuman bowmen, and the rest he sent to join Aelfstan whose fyrd had finally arrived and were now opposing the Rakians across the river.

It was late at night when Conn gathered his men at the docks. The tide was high, and they loaded the pikes, yari and a lot of arrows on to the boats, and then set out across the bay. It was less than two miles from the fishing village to the coast of Motya, and it was still dark as they guided the boats through the forested river banks and marshlands. Conn had sent two Twacuman ahead to guide the boats in and they made landfall without opposition. With the sun rising, they hid the boats and headed inland.

It was indeed lightly populated and quite underdeveloped; and they walked through the forests unchallenged until they arrived at the outskirts of the village of the local Thane.

After being spotted, their banners clearly indicated that they were Silekian, they watched as riders galloped away from the village towards the town.

Derryth was nonplussed as he watched the riders. “How do you know that he isn’t going to send five hundred of his best?’

‘We can take five hundred – and if he send too many, Osdred and Aelfstan will ford the river – and he won’t want that... he will send a small force of cavalry. Let’s go and have some coffee with the Thane.’

Derryth brightened. ‘You brought some?’

‘No, you did – the kitchen told me that you went and asked for some.’

Derryth was sheepish. ‘Well, three days without coffee is a long time…’

By the time Conn arrived at the gate of the donjon – which was now closed, the locals had retreated behind the palisades – as primitive as they were. There was no one to be seen. Conn did the civil thing and knocked on the gate.

A timid ‘Yes?’ came from the other side.

‘I am Conn il Taransay, Eoarl of Ilissus and Feorhhyrde.’ If he added to his title it saved the inevitable questions. ‘I wish to speak to your Thane…’

‘Feorhhyrde? So it is true that there are Twacuman outside…and the Feorhhyrde has returned…’ There was a pause. ‘Does the Feorhhyrde give his word that none will be harmed?’

Conn looked at Derryth. Derryth nodded. ‘It was always said that the word of the Feorhhyrde was sacrosanct.’

Conn was miffed. ‘Did anyone tell me that I wasn’t allowed to lie anymore? No! Someone should write a damn manual.’ He addressed the gate again ‘You have my word.’

‘Not your word – the word of the Feorhhyrde.’

Conn had never had his word being called into question before. He was feeling annoyed. ‘Very well; you have the word of the Feorhhyrde that no one will be harmed.’

Not long after the gate creaked open and they were confronted by a dozen old and very young wiga protecting a middle aged man. He bowed slightly.

‘I am Wilfred, Thane of this village. Welcome, we are pleased to make the acquaintance of the Feorhhyrde – the last was a revered ancestor of all our Silekians ancestors, and my own as well. How can we help you?’

‘Do you have any hot water? My friend here’, he pointed to Derryth, who bowed politely, ‘is desirous of a simple cup of coffee. If your water is hot, we have just enough time before the Eaorl comes back with his men to try and kill us.’

The Thane was stunned and rightly so. It was a very strange request. He looked at his bedda. They nodded. ‘The fire is on – the pot should be boiling…’

‘Great – lead the way.’ Conn and Derryth followed the Thane into his longhouse and to the suspended pot in the middle of the room. Derry took the two pannikins that carried in their backpacks and filled them with a rich mixture of coffee and sugar from his travel pack, and then filled the mugs with water with a ladle. After a stir, he handed one back to Conn. Conn then sipped the coffee; its aroma filling the room.

‘Ah, thank you. Needed that. Always good to go into battle with a clear head. Particularly if one is in danger of dying.’ Conn fetched a gold Ryal from his pouch and handed it to the Thane. ‘Thank you for the water.’ He then turned and let them out of the room, and through the dusty and decaying yard and out through the palisades. They had finished their coffee by this time, and Conn turned back towards the astounded Thane and his family.

‘Thank you Thane. We might come back for some more water later. You probably haven’t heard that new Eaorl of Ilissus, me, is in rebellion against the Healdend of Rakia. The Eaorls of Syra, Hera, Lipara, Soloes, Akarah and Mylae have joined in the rebellion. With any luck, it won’t be long before you are Silekian again. Farewell, I think the enemy has arrived. How far is it to the town?’

‘About fifteen miles...’

Outside they had their first confrontation; the Eaorl of Motya had sent a squad of about fifty riders to deal with the intruders, but they quickly recognized that they were out gunned after their first encounter with the pikes; their charge ended quickly and they retreated before they had almost impaled themselves on the projectiles. They send riders back to the town and then stayed and watched as Conn turned his fyrd around and marched towards the town.

On the end of town, a larger group of wiga waited for them – this time a mixture of ground troops and archers, and all the while the Calvary had grown to a couple of hundred riders and had gathered behind them as they marched, so as the strike once the ground troops had done their job.

They unfortunately hadn’t really taken into consideration the hundred archers in the middle of the pikemen – and their misunderstanding of the range and bow strength of Conn’s wiga. The first flight of arrows resulted in significant losses of ground troops, and the following mashed rush of Conn’s fyrd towards the remaining men at arms scattered the rest. The cavalry took the charge as a cue to for them to advance from behind, but the training of the pikemen allowed them to reform in the opposite direction instantaneously and before the horses had a chance to stop, which resulted in horses crashing into each other and throwing their riders, in the desperate attempt to not impale themselves. Conn had no great desire to kill all and sundry but any Rakians Folctoga found themselves as special targets, and few lived to explain their errors.

The Rakians that survived then just watched helplessly as Conn continued on his merry way into the town; Conn added insult to injury by then having a bagpiper play, with the inhabitants fleeing on sight. It was now dusk and they found themselves in view of the palisades; and in all directions, the Eaorl had sent wiga to surround them; although at a distance because of the range of Conn’s bowmen. It would have been galling and frustrating for the Eaorl – he had no way of attacking because his bowmen were outgunned – his only recourse was a suicide attack of many against few hoping they would run out of arrows, but he seemed uninclined to do that. He didn’t seem to have any artillery pieces that he could bring to bear either.

The pikes had done their job; they had go Conn into town free of attack by cavalry. It was now urban warfare – Conn’s speciality – and their first major asset was an Inn in the middle of town; they had it surrounded and secured it before anyone knew what had happened.

After redirecting a few would be escapees back into the tavern, Conn and Derryth followed them into the Inn.

As the two fronted up to the bar, the dozen patrons, the barkeep and his not-nearly-as-attractive-as-they-should-be waitresses looked at them with a mixture of fear and astonishment.

They both looked up the prices on the wall.

‘That is ridiculous – I’m going to have to charge more for wholesale. Barkeep, two mugs of the best you have – and if it isn’t the best you have, you are going to be
really
sorry.’

The barkeep hurried away and returned with two tankards of a foaming brew. Conn handed over, to the barkeep’s enduring surprise, a silver Ryal and collected his change. Derryth was first to try the brew. Conn followed suit.

Derryth wiped the foam from his face. ‘I’ve tasted better.’

‘I agree – possibly everything I ever tasted is better, but it is better than nothing.’

‘Marginally. So what is the normal stuff like, do you think?’

‘I’m not game to try.’ Conn turned and looked around the tavern. ‘Can I buy a drink for anyone?’

A man stood at the far end of the tavern. He walked to the bar. ‘I’ll let the Eaorl of Hama buy me a drink.’

Conn handed over more money, and ordered three mugs of the “good” stuff.

The man accepted the mug gracefully. He drank half the mug before stopping.

‘Eaorl, you were right to be cautious; the regular stuff is much worse.’

Conn studied him. He wasn’t currently a wiga, but had obviously been one in the past. ‘You served in Trokia?’

‘I did – and I was very surprised that I got out alive. I was your guest in Ushu for some time. I was very impressed and looked forward to trying much of what I had learnt – sadly I never had the opportunity.’ He held out his hand. ‘My name is Egrys – former Thane of Ashkel. I served with Amargein, and like him I was found to have failed in my duty to my Healdend. My demesne was confiscated, and my family sold as theow to recover the cost of my wergild. There are sometimes things that are worse than dying.’

‘Egrys, I am sorry to hear that.’ Conn was genuinely shocked. ‘Fallon actually sold your family as Theow?’

Egrys nodded. ‘A merchant in town bought them – they work in his house.’

‘Well, that cannot stand. Here,’ Conn reached in, found and handed over ten gold Ryals. ‘Will this be enough to buy back your family?’

Egrys, surprised at the gesture, looked at the coins, and nodded. ‘Yes – but what do I have to do for it?’

‘Not much – and nothing that I couldn’t ask any man here. I’d like you to tell the Eaorl of Motya that the Eaorl of Ilissus invites him to surrender before he gets hurt – that is his only chance of keeping his demesne. Tell him that I have two thousand Silekians over the river who will cross eventually and he know he can’t defeat the Silekians – just ask anyone who was in Trokia. I’m sure you can impress that point on him. I am also the Feorhhyrde and I have three hundred Twacuman in my fyrd as well. Tell him that I’ll be here waiting. Are you happy to do that?’