Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) (20 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Murdoc’s face turned ashen upon seeing Egbert. ‘It’s Egbert, damn him … he survived after all,’ was all he could manage to say.

Darga’s confidence had grown as the track had quickly flooded. Now he felt secure behind the water, just as centuries later other men would feel safe behind the protection of a moat
.
He fumbled an arrow into his bowstring and was about to pull back when Dominic clamped his arm.

‘No, you wait till I give the call, what’s wrong with you man? I’ve told you more times than I care to remember, we don’t release at solitary targets, they’re too distant to hit individually from here. We’ve more chance if we shoot at the big group when they arrive.’

Soon they came, and when they did, Dominic instructed his charges to let fly.

As British arrows looped downwards into the valley, Dominic spotted their archers. ‘Watch out they’re returning fire!’ he shouted. ‘Retreat along the track and out of their range!’

As they turned and ran, Murdoc noticed James stumble. James fell onto his belly just as Murdoc reached him. From his upper back, an arrow pulsed his racing heart’s rhythm.

Augustus joined them, hefted James over his shoulder, then scurried with him beyond the range of fire as Saxon arrows landed randomly behind them.

When clear of the killing zone Dominic examined James’ wound. His grave look to those surrounding him was telling. Turning back to James he said: ‘This has to come out; you can’t travel with it inside you; every twist and turn will put you in agony if we leave it in. How they hit you, I don’t know; they’re not archers, that’s for sure.’

James, on his stomach, twisted his head to see Dominic. ‘Do it then,’ he whispered. ‘Get rid of it.’ Dominic hitched his breath, grimaced and closed his hand on the arrow.

When it left him, James gasped. Dark blood pulsated outwards. Augustus took James in his thick arms, turned him over and cradled him. ‘I’ll have you tied to a pony in no time like a sack of flour,’ he said. ‘Then we—’

James shook his head, silencing him. Pale and weak, his voice barely a whisper, he spoke to Augustus. ‘I’m too wounded for that, you must leave me here to rest … I can’t … can’t go on.’ He drifted towards sleep and Augustus stroked the cold sweat from his brow. After some moments, James opened his eyes, his focus blurred and weak. ‘I came to punish them for killing Eidon … but not now,’ he whispered.

Augustus’ laugh was dismissive but his tone desperate. ‘Of course you’ll punish them, man. Of course, you will. It’s just a pinprick. Come, let’s get you back on your feet.’

But James did not respond and Augustus thought him asleep again. Moments passed until James stirred. Again, he managed words but they were his last. ‘Promise me … promise me … you’ll …’ He fell to silence as death came to him.

Augustus was baffled, stunned. Gently, he shook him, but James was loose, lifeless. ‘Of course I’ll finish it for you,’ said Augustus as he rocked James harder now. His tears had begun to flow freely. ‘But you may yet do it yourself. Wake up, there’s much to do … stay awake for me please.’

It was the first favour James had ever denied him. Augustus continued to hug his body, his own hefty frame convulsing with sobs. He looked to the others, his eyes bleak and desperate. ‘Such a gentle man. He passed from life to death so quickly, how can that be?’

They had no answer for Augustus … could only stand with heads bowed as they wept. After a while, Samuel went to Augustus and bade him place James on the ground.

Augustus stood and Dominic spoke to him. ‘I’m sorry Gus, but we don’t have time. They’ll be upon us if we hang around here. We’ll hide him and return when we get through this. That’s my pledge to you.’

Murdoc came to them as William and John took James’ body to the side of the track. ‘They’ve started to cross the water,’ he said quietly. ‘They’ve climbed onto the banking. We’ve no fear from their archers for now.’

Dominic immediately readied his bow. ‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘This is why we flooded the valley! Let’s get at the bastards! Let’s do it for James!’ 

As they reached the rise, they saw the raiders struggling to cross towards them. The dismounted men had climbed onto the precipitous valley sides and had begun to thread their way through the trees. Attached by ropes to their ponies, thus adding to the difficulty of the traverse, they coerced the skittish beasts through the deep pool. Some of the ponies attempted to haul themselves onto the steep banking, but their efforts proved futile and they slid back into the water, adding to the confusion and entanglement. Two men fell into the pool with them. They floundered in the swirling murk and took mouthfuls of water, then sank into the deeps.

‘Send them to their Gods,
’
said Dominic, dispassionately.

Darga’s bravado had departed him with the death of James. He was skittish as he looked towards the flooding. ‘Would it not be better to go? We’ve delayed them enough—they can’t be more than fifty paces away. Surely, we need to be further ahead than this.’

Augustus, with bowstring stretched to his nose, positively snarled at him ‘No, we press our advantage! Bugger off if you’ve got no stomach for the fight!’

Darga stayed, though at the rear.

They began their attack. Dominic as the seasoned hunter quickly hit three men. These fell into the water to join the two who already lay on the bottom of the pool. Murdoc and William also had a kill each. It caused the Saxons to halt and seek cover behind the precariously rooted trees. Many of the ponies, now unfettered, returned to the far banking where, whinnying and shaking their heads, they waited for their masters to return.

‘I saw Egbert again,’ shouted Murdoc, ‘but he hung back with his leader, out of range, then hid as soon as the arrows started to fly.’

‘It’s no accident he’s survived so long,’ said Dominic, as he sighted his bow around the trees looking for him. After a while, he looked towards the sun as it dipped below the tree line. ‘Night’s near and we’ve killed all we can for now. They’ll not just stand waiting for us to hit them, there’s no chance of that. They pray for for darkness. We need to use what’s left of the day to put distance between us and them, then tomorrow we can get ready to go at them again deeper into the woods.‘

‘It looks like Darga’s already gone,’ said Augustus. ‘His pony’s missing and so is he.’

Dominic looked up the track and silently cursed. ‘We’re better off without the useless bastard anyway. Come on you lot. Let’s get away from here, quickly.’

After an hour riding up the trail, Dominic stopped. ‘The road splits here. We need to draw them away and onto the main track. If we hide the junction to the village’—he pointed to a narrower trail that led westwards—‘they should take the open route into the deeper forest. Let’s get on with it; we’ve just enough light left to get this done.’

‘But surely they’ll remember the way they came last time,’ said Augustus.

Dominic dismissed this. ‘No, I think not. The forest can be confusing. Even I can become baffled if I’m on unfamiliar ground. No … their eyes should naturally follow the open pathway. And don’t forget, we killed their best two trackers.’

‘It’s just as well we did,’ said Murdoc. ‘See how that rushing fool Darga’s left his pony’s hoof prints churned into the ground. He may as well have left them a sign saying, “
This way to the slaughter!
’’’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ came in Augustus. ‘Our prints will overlay them along the false track before we leave. Come—William, John, Sam!—we need to find brushwood to hide the opening.’

Some then set to work to gather dead branches, whilst others cut down shrubs. When they had gathered ample, Dominic skilfully placed the material across the fork in the track, so that old dead vegetation reared behind newly introduced shrubs. Leaf litter was liberally scattered to disguise the plantings.

Augustus admired Dominic’s handiwork. ‘If we ever get out of this alive you can plant a nice garden for my wife,’ he said.

‘Let’s hope it fools them, then,’ said Dominic, ‘I’ll gladly create a garden for the entire village and work only for board and lodgings if
this
works.’

They moved back two hundred paces while William and John brushed all signs of their activity from the track. After they had finished, they rode over the area and down the trail, as if they had ridden along it one time only.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Osric had watched and waited when Dominic and the others had ridden from the rise overlooking the pool. With only twenty-five men left, he was still confident his depleted force could take the first village, which Egbert had informed him was only a day’s ride away.

Nightfall was almost upon them before they had the confidence to move further up the valley. Now they stood on the elevated ground previously occupied by Dominic. Godrys approached Osric. ‘Are we to ride through the night,’ he asked.

Osric dismissed this. ‘No, that would be the wrong thing to do. We’ve already been ambushed twice in broad daylight, who knows what they have planned for us in the dark. No … we travel at daybreak.’

Next day they reached the divide in the trail. Given the task of riding a hundred paces behind the main group, the youth Godrys travelled with a gnarled, world-weary warrior named Bryni. Their brief was to guard against any attack from behind. Alert for any movement within the shadow of the tree cover, both stood in their saddles as they looked over the top of the brush on either side of the trail.

The main group, led now by Egbert and Wlensling, passed where Dominic had disguised and hidden the track to the village. Happy to follow what they perceived to be the one and only route, they continued into the deeper woods.

It was Godrys who spotted the ruse. He rode at a gallop to reach the main body of riders. ‘Osric, stop!’ he shouted. ‘We’ve found another hidden track back up the trail. We saw it from the height of our saddles.’

The men stopped and rode back to Bryni, who was dismantling the disguise. Egbert dismounted and walked beyond the entanglement to the open trail beyond. ‘I see what they’ve done here,’ he said as he turned to Wlensling for confirmation. ‘Is this not the route we travelled upon before?’

‘Yes, said Wlensling, ‘they attempted to mislead us and nearly succeeded.’

‘Little wonder we were fooled,’ said Egbert, ‘the woods all look the same to me.’

Osric clapped Godrys on the shoulder. ‘Well done lad, you saved us a needless journey.’ He looked up the trail where Dominic’s party had gone. ‘Still we can’t chance another ambush.’ Lips pursed, he pondered a moment. He addressed Godrys. ‘This may have worked in our favour but we need to keep an eye on them. Take Bryni and two others. Find them and watch them. If they turn to follow us, as I’m sure they will, send a rider at speed back to me at once. Engage them only if it’s safe. I can’t afford to lose any more men.’

The four riders left and rode down the track. They rode at a good pace for an hour, following Dominic’s hoof prints, until Bryni halted and raised his arm for the others to stop. The land before them climbed and opened out, treeless. Two hundred paces away, a flat horizon slashed across their field of vision. Stood on the crest, six figures looked at them, before retreating behind the rise and out of sight.

‘Careful,’ said Godrys. ‘We know what they’re capable of. We fight only if we have the advantage. The longer we delay them now the more time Osric will have to take the first village.’ Godrys was aware that a success here would boost his standing in the group. He too could be a Gedriht like Egbert and Wlensling, and gain more gold and women. Surely, it would not hurt to ride over the rise and see what the Britons were up to.

Dominic and the others had climbed into a furrow eroded by a rushing stream. A clay wall, twice the height of a man, towered behind them, protecting their backs. A colony of martins, nesting in the neat round holes of the banking, flew and wittered around their heads. It was a spot picked out specifically by Dominic when he had sat planning strategy with Withred during the long winter. It was also the limit of his previous wanderings. The woods beyond were unknown to him.

‘Four outriders, I counted,’ said Samuel. ‘The rest should follow soon.’

‘They’ve seen us, so ready your bows and aim at the rise, said Dominic. ‘If they show themselves, do not hesitate.’

They had not long to wait. The Saxons believed the Britons had fled through open country, so stood on the edge of the crest, their outline clear for Dominic and the others to see.

They took six arrows from short range. Three immediately fell wounded into the gully where Augustus and his brothers finished them with their axes.

Godrys had survived. An arrow had entered his left side—a flesh wound only—and had caused him to stumble backwards. He was quickly on his pony and turned to gallop back towards Osric’s men.

In the furrow, the men readied their bows for the next wave of anticipated attack. Murdoc climbed the slope and peered cautiously over, intent to give early warning. 

Three hours passed as they waited for the main body to arrive. Dominic, his patience strained, eventually climbed the clay banking and stood on the top edge beside Murdoc as they looked down the trail.

‘Damn my rotting eyes!’ Dominic bellowed. ‘Prepare to ride. They’re not coming, they must have found the track to the village. How could I have let this happen?’

They mounted and rode at speed back down the track.

After Darga had deserted, he galloped wildly away until his pony reached the point of collapse. When darkness fell, he spent the night just beyond the fork in the track.

The next day, he had not gone far when his pony stumbled into a rutted hollow in the dried mud. It went down, throwing Darga. His head struck the ground and blackness had come to him.

When his consciousness returned, he realised he was on foot, his pony having broken a foreleg. He stumbled to his feet and began to run, frequently looking behind as he did so. Unable to continue at pace, he slowed to a walk. He paused for breath, listening for any approach. He could hear nothing but his own pounding heart. Gasping, he stumbled into a beech wood. Here, the undergrowth was thin—the cover sparse. His breath returned and he moved quickly towards a swathe of thicker forest cover, three hundred paces distant.

He whimpered as he heard the riders approach. Lurching wildly towards the distant tree line, his attempt to outrun them was futile. He had covered just half the distance before they were upon him.

Wlensling was the first to meet him, riding his pony into the youth’s back to send him sprawling to the ground. The others quickly surrounded him as Egbert and Osric dismounted.

Egbert withdrew his knife and pulled Darga’s head back. Making ready to cut his throat, he growled: ‘Ambush us would you? Dig pits to ensnare us, eh? My only regret is that I don’t have enough time to kill you slowly, you British turd.’

‘Stay your hand!’ Osric stopped him. ‘We need to find out what this man knows. Guthren, you speak some of their tongue.’ A thickset man sporting a straggly moustache joined them. ‘Get from him what you can.’

Guthren crouched to face the kneeling Darga. ‘Where do you ride to Briton?’ he asked.

‘Back to my village, I had nothing to do—’

Guthren slapped him. ‘We saw you, so don’t lie.’

‘They made me do it,’ snivelled Darga, ‘I’ll tell you anything you need to know. I’ll lead you to my village.’

‘How many armed men await us there?’

‘Few—and most of
them
are useless. The better fighters you have already met.’

‘Apart from the cowardly bastard who fled at the first fight,’ sneered Guthren. ‘Tell me—is Withred at the village?’

‘Yes—yes,’ said Darga, eager to please and hopeful he could be of use to the Saxons. Maybe he would ride with them on future raids. Surely, the fighting would be easier against undefended folk. It would get him out of his miserable life in the fields. ‘It’s he and Dominic who trained the village for combat,’ he added.

‘This Dominic, is he the one who wears the wolf head?’

‘Yes it’s he.’

Guthren told Osric and the others.

‘Dominic is his name then,’ said Egbert. ‘Dominic the wolf-man. His wolf head
and
his man’s head will part his body before thi
s
day is over.’

‘It seems we’ve little to fear in the village, then, apart from Withred,’ said Osric. ‘Still, we need to be careful. Ask him—’

Wlensling interrupted. ‘Godrys approaches at speed!’

Godrys, exhausted, arrived. He wearily dismounted and told of events down the trail.

‘Three more men dead, damn that man!’ said Wlensling. ‘We number just thirty-three now if my count is correct. That’s too many losses at this stage.’

‘Yet we still have enough men to get this task done with and return with slaves,’ said Osric. ‘We can cut
their
number by one now. Kill this coward, Guthren. He is no use to us. We know our way from here without him.’

Darga, aware from Osric’s tone and gesture, implored Guthren who had raised his ax. ‘No don’t slay me! I can lead Withred and the others away from their defences in the village and make it easy for you to kill them.’

Hesitant, Guthren told Osric of Darga’s offer. Osric pondered but shook his head.

‘No!’ screamed Darga. ‘I’ll kill them myself, I’ll—’ Guthren’s ax fell, shattering Darga’s skull. Egbert stepped in shoving Guthren aside, grunting as he added five more ax blows to Darga’s head.