Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) (75 page)

Upon hearing his final sigh, Raedwald approached the table—his look of dismay born from the realisation that the Briton had died without further torment.

Cunedda turned when sensing Raedwald beside him. Such was the venom in the Votadini chief’s glare that Raedwald took a step backwards. Cunedda’s voice was cold. ‘You ... get someone to take this man’s body to the woods and bury it.’

But Raedwald was ruffled. ‘
Bury
him?’ Why not just feed him to the pigs. The scum would have scuttled back to Arthur and warned him.’

With an exasperated, ‘huh!’ Diarmait got to his feet and grabbed Raedwald by his shoulder. He guided him towards the door. ‘Just do as Cunedda says. We’ve heard enough of the world-according-to-Raedwald for one lifetime.’ He shoved him through the door and shut it.

Cunedda had covered Will’s face. ‘He was a worthy man’—he cast a glance towards the door—‘unlike that Saxon runt.’ He appraised Will again. ‘This man plied an honest trade—one that got him killed in the end. In the same position, I would probably have done as he did.’

Diarmait nodded. ‘Yes, he at least deserves to go into the ground now. I will personally see that his body is not despoiled before it happens.’

The month of March arrived the next morning. The four Saxon chiefs: Hrodgar, Wigstan, Cenhelm and Osbeorn, their horses caparisoned for war, rode from the gates of Camulodunum in their full splendor. Between them, they had gathered over two thousand men, half of whom owned horses or ponies. The enlisted men—the fyrd—made up the other half, and were mostly on foot. These would trail three days behind the main party as they walked with their families beside the wagons.

Whoops and shouts had begun to puncture the drone of lively conversation coming from the hordes gathered before the town gates.

Diarmait and Cunedda met the Saxon chiefs when they emerged. ‘As planned, we take the road to Londinium, then the road westwards to Aquae Sulis,’ said Hrodgar.

‘And riders have been dispatched?’ asked Cunedda.

Not familiar with being questioned over his leadership, Hrodgar was brusque.  ‘
Of course
. Three days ago; do you think I would leave anything to chance?’

Cunedda sighed. ‘No Hrodgar, but perhaps you are human like the rest of us. It does no harm to check these things.’

‘Worry not, man. I told you I sent the riders. As we speak, Guertepir knows we’ll meet him at Aquae Sulis in twelve days’ time.’ He turned to the nearby woods. ‘I hear a spy was caught and killed. Pity you couldn’t get some information from him before you so thoughtfully buried him between the trees.’

‘It’s the living ones we need to worry about,’ said Cunedda. ‘He was stopped before he could get back to Arthur and that’s the important thing.’

‘Little matter,’ said Hrodgar indifferently. ‘The pigs will grub him up anyway.’ He looked over to Cunedda’s men who were mounted and lingered nearby. ‘Lead us out, I’ll allow you that. Let’s get this Aquae Sulis thing over. Then we can get at Arthur and enter the western lands.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dominic was back at Brythonfort. Recalled by Arthur, after Will had failed to send any news from Camulodunum, he now dwelt in the king’s hall with five anxious men. Spaced out at intervals around the huge round table sat Arthur, Gherwan, Murdoc, Flint and Erec.

‘So the northern roads from Corinium were quiet when you left?’ asked Arthur.

Dominic nodded in affirmation. ‘Apart from the trade in pottery, the route was quiet.’

‘No sight or sound of Votadini travelling down the southern roads from Deva, then?’

‘None. I left Nairn there. He’ll soon get news back here if anything stirs.’

‘And Tomas?’

‘He still watches Guertepir in the west.’

‘In which case, I need you to go south again. Will hasn’t shown yet. More worryingly, he’s sent no word with the dispatch riders’

‘No sign of Saxon movement from
them
?’

‘None. Not even sight of Augustus and Withred. As I speak we have two hundred knights and a little fewer than one thousand inexperienced men to meet whatever Guertepir throws at us.’

‘I’ll leave in the morning and travel towards Londinium and see what I can glean,’ said Dominic, ‘… and don’t worry too much about Will. He gets absorbed in his work.’

Arthur frowned. ‘I can’t help it … it’s my nature. The last thing I need is to lose one of my best scouts.’ He turned to Erec. ‘The recruits seem to be doing well, how long before you’re happy with them?’

‘They’re probably as good as I can get them,’ said Erec. ‘The only way they’ll improve now is fighting for real.’

‘How many desertions?’

‘Surprisingly few—thirty or forty. I’ve impressed on them that running away only delays things. Told them they’ll definitely be up against it sooner or later.  Said, if they have to fight they may as well do it in a group and not alone.’

‘Good, that’s something at least.’ Arthur paused, reflecting. He turned to Gherwan. ‘Assuming we get some men—say one thousand—from Angeln, that gives us two thousand in total against the four thousand we know for sure ride alongside Guertepir. Add to that a probable two thousand Saxons. That’s six thousand against us.’

Gherwan tried for optimism. ‘Grim figures I can’t deny, but we’ve held these lands for years with only two hundred well-equipped knights.’

‘Yes, against war bands of no more than fifty.’

‘But Brythonfort is formidable. Surely we can hold out here for many months.’

‘And to what end? While we wait and starve, they’ll ravish and lay waste to all the land. They’ll kill and enslave every poor soul outside the protection of Brythonfort.’

‘But it’s six thousand against two thousand … you said it yourself. What other choice do we have?’

‘To take high ground and meet them.’

Gherwan was sceptical. ‘But surely they’ll overwhelm us with such numbers.’

Arthur’s voice betrayed his frustration. ‘Yes, they probably will, but besiegement is nothing but a slow death. With full-on war at least we get a chance to hit them.’

’High ground, you say,’ came in Murdoc. ‘Apart from Brythonfort, the land is mostly flat around here. How do we get them to come to us, anyway?’

‘We don’t, Murdoc,’ said Arthur, now with a glimmer of enthusiasm. ‘
We
go to
them
. We go to Aquae Sulis. I’m sure now the spa will be their first point of attack, lying as it does at the meeting of roads.’

‘And there is high ground at Aquae Sulis?’

‘Mynydd Baddon—or Mount Badon in some dialects—rears over the town.’

‘You’re suggesting we march to the place now?’ Gherwan’s tone was one of mild surprise.

‘No I’m not saying that. Not even a man with my optimism can foresee any outcome other then a quick defeat if we take just one thousand farmers to meet them. No, at the very least we must wait to see what Withred and Gus turn up with. Gods!’—Arthur placed his fists against his temples in an act of frustration—‘Damn Ffodor! Damn him taking things personally. Why he couldn’t see that some things are above petty grievances is beyond me! With his men we would at least have a chance.’

Gherwan and Murdoc exchanged a glance. Two weeks earlier, they too had endured such frustration when trying to persuade the stubborn lord of Travena to join Arthur’s cause. The best Gherwan could offer now was, ‘He might yet have a change of heart and decide to ride? Who knows what drives the man.’

‘Trouble is, it’s all
perhaps
and
maybes,
’ sighed Arthur. ‘We can’t fight them with guesswork. All we can do now is sit and—‘

The door to the hall opened and a guard walked in with another man. The fast rider, Nairn, was recognizable to all. He burst out with his news. ‘Men amass at Corinium, my lord. Guertepir’s army and a force of Votadini from the northern road now move southwards towards Aquae Sulis.’

‘How large an army?’

‘Close to four thousand.’

‘How long before they reach the city?’

‘They move at walking pace so the best part of a day is my guess.’

‘Do they have siege equipment—ladders, rams and the like?’

‘None that I saw.

‘And how long did it take you to get here on fast horses?’

‘Over half a day, high lord.’

‘Was Tomas with you at Aquae Sulis?’

‘He was.’

‘Then go back to him and continue to watch the town. If the armies move from the place then I must be told on the very day. Otherwise just watch and wait. Tremendous effort man, I thank you.’

Nairn left and a silence briefly fell over the assembly as the news sank in. A shiver like impending death passed over Erec as an awareness hit him. ‘My wife,’ he said. ‘My Morgana—she is in the town. I must go to her.’

Arthur, thinking rapidly, dealt with Erec first. ‘Yes—yes, of course; you must go at once. Thirty of my knights are there. Ride the fast messenger horses. They’re stabled along the route every six miles and will get you inside the city before Guertepir and the Votadini arrive. Go now while enough daylight remains. Set Morgana and any other civilians on their way and send them back with a small escort.’ Arthur turned to Flint. ‘You’re in charge of the recruits in Erec’s absence.’

As Erec rushed from the hall, Arthur began to pace the room and collect his thoughts.

Gherwan asked: ‘Should I muster the men and march to Aquae Sulis?’

Distracted and wondering over half a dozen things at once, Arthur replied. ‘No, that would be folly.’ A pause ensued before he came to his conclusion. ‘No. We need to keep Guertepir’s forces away from Brythonfort for now. That would best suit our needs.’ He looked to Murdoc. ‘Speak with Erec before he leaves. He must secure the gates of Aquae Sulis after he’s sent the civilians on their way. Tell him to hold out there until we can get extra men and arrive in force.’ He addressed Dominic. ‘Dom, things have changed. You need to leave
now
. Take Murdoc with you. Get on your way down the eastern road and ride through the night if you have to. We need news of Withred … of Will … of Saxon movement. Anything!’

Dominic left the hall with Murdoc. Arthur and Gherwan remained.

‘What now?’ asked Gherwan.

‘Wait,
damn it
, wait.’ With worried eyes, he continued. ‘It’s all we
can
do. We don’t have the men yet to go to Badon Hill. We need at least Withred, Gus, and their force of Angles before we can do that.’

‘And what of Aquae Sulis? Will it hold?’

‘As long as they secure the gates they should be safe. Guertepir desires the town—that is unarguable—so he’ll probably lay siege, and that’ll keep him away from our western lands. That’s my worry Gherwan: if they head this way I don’t have the men to protect my people from them. But if they
do
come we must be ready with what we’ve got. That’s our role for now: sit and wait, and be ready to die to protect our folk.’

‘And that may happen soon if Guertepir breaches Aquae Sulis.’

‘We can only pray he doesn’t. The newly repaired walls and gates are stronger than ever so they should keep them at bay.‘

Erec made rapid progress along the thirty-five miles of good Roman road between Brythonfort and Aquae Sulis. A man waited with his final horse as he landed five miles from the town. Erec gasped his fatigue as he slid from the frothy flanks of his mare. ‘Any movement from up the road?’

‘Nothing, other than everyday comings and goings,’ answered the groom.

Erec had no time to dwell, so heaved himself upon the fresh steed and galloped onwards. Another bout of fast riding got him to Aquae Sulis. Half a mile away, Guertepir’s army approached the town down the northern road.

Erec spotted the sentries on the walls and realised they had not failed in their task—the gates were secure between the stone towers. He assessed his chance of reaching them unscathed. Knowing it was touch and go, his spurred his swift horse towards the city, his concern growing when he noticed five riders break from Guertepir’s group and speed towards him.

When reaching the gates, Erec displayed his unicorn shield to the men on the tower. Cardew and Ferris, two knights well known to him, recognised him at once. Erec removed his broadsword as he waited. The rushing riders had halved the distance to him before he heard the sliding of stout beams behind the door. The squeak of new timber on recently-forged iron sounded, and a gap scarcely wide enough to take his horse appeared. He entered Aquae Sulis. Men waiting inside quickly secured the gates only moments before the enemy riders arrived. A hollow banging on the doors evidenced their frustration as the oak barrier checked their assault.

Abloyc jerked his horse away from the gates, then threw his iron helm to the ground. Frustrated, he dragged his hands over his shaven head, his cold eyes glittering with fury. A cohort retrieved his helm. Abloyc snatched it. ‘A moment sooner and we would’ve had him.’ He played his horse around in a circle, his blond chin beard bristling as he looked up to the tower. Two archers appeared, prompting him to ram his helm back on. ‘Fall away!’ he shouted as arrows began to fly.

When out of range, they checked their stride and turned to assess the magnitude of their task. ‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ Abloyc said to the nearest man. The noise of an approaching mass of men had him turn. Ahead of the horde rode Guertepir, eager to reach Aquae Sulis before his subordinates. Abloyc threw a glare in his direction. ‘S’pity the poxed whore wants the town,’ he growled, ‘otherwise this thing would be over with quickly. Then I could get back to my pleasures in Deva.’

A nearby rider, one of Abloyc’s toadies, smirked at this. ‘When Cunedda finds out how you’ve set yourself up there, slaves and all, he’ll have your cod on a platter.’

Abloyc gave an arrogant sniff of dismissal. ‘Cunedda has a battle to go through before he even gets back to Deva. Stray arrows fly from all directions in the heat of combat. Who knows what might befall him.’

‘Dangerous talk,’ said the toady, ‘but talk I will take to my grave—that you know.’

Guertepir arrived, ending their musings. Grunting, he turned his heavy horse towards the following army, his arm signal bringing them to a slow halt. ‘Locked themselves in the city have they?’ he wheezed.

‘Fraid so,’ replied Abloyc. ‘We nearly caught a rider as he entered the town, but arrived too late.’

‘Any sign of Arthur’s forces?’

‘None yet. They can’t be far away though.’

Guertepir scrutinised Aquae Sulis. He looked up to the sky. ‘Night’s not far off, so we’ll camp before the gates.’ He shook his head dejectedly as he studied the town again. ‘Didn’t expect to just walk in but—shit!—look at those towers ... and that gate.’ He turned to a nearby captain of his troop and pointed to where the walls curved away out of sight. ‘Send riders around the city, all the way and back again. Examine the walls for any weakness.’

Abloyc raised his eyebrows, murmuring. ‘You really think they would be stupid enough to leave breaches in the wall?’

’No I don’t,’ said Guertepir, his deflated stare moving from Aquae Sulis to Abloyc, upon whom it transformed into a look of disdain. ‘But these things need to be examined man. That is how we Hibernians prepare. That is why we win wars.’

Abloyc, who held no respect for Guertepir, was about to give him a sharp reply but was distracted by the approach of Votadini foot soldiers. Before them, stumbling and distraught, was a ragged man.

All turned and stared as the wretch neared them. One of the foot soldiers pushed him before Abloyc’s horse. ‘Came to us, my lord. He’s a Briton. As soon as we stopped he appeared from nowhere.’

Abloyc dismounted and grabbed the man by his hair. He held his knife to his terrified eye. ‘You had better have good reason,’ he growled.

After entering Aquae Sulis, Erec went in search of Morgana. He soon found her on the main street as she walked with their infant boy, Girard. With them was Tamsyn, a woman of similar age, who had another small child at her heels.

Morgana’s mouth dropped open as Girard ran delightedly to Erec. ‘They closed the gates, I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t expect to see you here,’ she said.