Saxon Sword

by Griff Hosker

  Cadafael ap Cadwallon was now King of Gwynedd. Cadwallon had died without issue and Cadafael was a shadow of the man he replaced. However so long as King Penda rule Mercia and continued to war against Bernicia then we might survive. The dream and Myrddyn’s words had been depressingly dark. I wondered what fate awaited me. King Oswald had sworn vengeance upon me for I had slain their king, Edwin. The Christians had made him a saint.

  Our scouts returned and they reported that the Angles kept to their lands. There were no warbands and they had not mustered an army. The thegns would have their heart weru and that would be all. Their news did not make me feel any less apprehensive.

  Arturus and his mother arrived some months after my dream. Their arrival lifted all of our spirits for Arturus had been a golden child. He had Gawan and Gwyneth’s good looks. With long flowing hair which was gold coloured hanging down his back he looked like some sort of Greek god. He had his hair from his father and his looks from his stunningly beautiful mother. He had adopted the Greek style of shaving his beard and so was clean shaven. He had their intelligence and he had his father’s martial skills. He had shown some skills in magic but he had been away at the court of the Emperor for a long time and no one knew if he would have lost those skills. Gawan and Myrddyn respected the knowledge held there in the east but both knew the power of the land of Rheged had a more powerful influence.

  Arturus had grown. He was no longer a boy. He had come back a young man. He stepped from the ship with bronzed skin and flowing locks. He did not look like the boy who had left. He had been transformed. His mother still looked the same. I spoke with Arturus as she and Gawan embraced. My brother had missed his beautiful wife.

  “Are you pleased to be home, nephew?”

  “Now that I am here and see the rugged hills climbing to the sky I am. I will be truthful, Warlord, I was reluctant to come home. Constantinopolis is a wondrous place. It enchants and it intoxicates. Know you that the Emperor offered me a place amongst his own equites?” I nodded. Gawan had told me. “I would have accepted. In fact, I had decided that I would accept when I had a dream and Myrddyn came to me. He told me that I was needed here in Rheged. He said the spirits would forgive me for abandoning the old ways if I came home.”

  “When was this?”

  “Four months since, why?”

  “For that was when the wizard was dead.”

  “Ah. Now I understand why he is not here to greet us.”

  I had heard the name, Myrddyn, and that had been all that I had heard. Now as I looked at his face the rest of his words surfaced. “Abandoned the old ways? Did I hear you aright?”

  He took, from beneath his tunic, a silver cross. “I became a Christian. My mother did the same.”

  It felts as though my nephew had slid a blade into my back. We had been betrayed. If the hope of our people lay in one who was not a Christian then what was our future? My silence and my face told my nephew what lay in my heart. My brother and his wife had gone to the side to speak alone. Others were fetching chests and bags from the boat but I stood in stunned silence.

  Arturus reached up and put his hand on mine, “Warlord, I am still the same Arturus. I will still fight for this land.”

  His hand was soft. He was no longer a warrior. Already the priests of the White Christ had begun to turn him. “How can you fight those who are Christians? Your religion says that you turn the other cheek! They are your brothers now and it is we, the ones they call pagans, who are your enemies.”

  He smiled, “The Emperor and his men are more pragmatic than that, uncle. They do not side with someone because he shares their religion. They have a new enemy there. The followers of a man from the desert worship the same god but his followers, the men of Islam, make war upon Christians. The Emperor and his men do not turn the other cheek. They fight. I will fight.”

  I turned his hands over and put my hand next to his. My hands were calloused and hard. “Are your hands the hand of a warrior, Arturus?”

  He shook his head, “Not yet but they will be. I confess that I have neglected my training. Now I am back then I can work with Pelas and…

  “Pelas is dead. It was not just Myrddyn who died. Others fell. We have fewer men than when you left. We are an island within an island. The mountains are all that stand between us and destruction. Like you I have dreamed and I have seen the end. Perhaps it would have been better had you stayed where life was easy and there was a place for a Christian warrior with soft hands.”

  I was angry and I had said that which I should not. I turned and walked back to the stronghold which might soon be besieged by our enemies.

  “Warlord!”

  I did not turn when Arturus called me. I had dreamed and Myrddyn had spoken with Arturus. I had been deceived by both. I went to the stable and, mounting Copper, rode south to the hills. I wanted to lose myself in them.

  It was almost dark by the time I had calmed myself and felt ready to return to my home. The hills and valleys did that. This land was untouched by all, even the Romans. Only their handful of roads crossed it. I had realised that my brother would now need me for he had been betrayed too. His wife and his son had abandoned him and been seduced by the White Christ. King Cadwallon had shown us that the followers of the White Christ could be cruel men. He had butchered women and children. We had not done that. The men of Bernicia and Deira had also shown that they could be ruthless and kill those who could not defend themselves. My equites and squires would never do that. Arturus’ betrayal was more fundamental than that. If we abandoned the old ways then the land would abandon us. It was at that moment that I finally understood the dream. Myrddyn had known what Arturus would do. He had said, ‘His sword is his blood. It is his seed. He will die and the people will mourn but they will remember him.’ This was meant to be. I might not be happy about it but I would have to learn to live with it. It would break my heart but I would have to watch as Rheged died so that it could be reborn some time in the future.

  As I entered my gates I saw Gawan waiting for me at the entrance to the hall. I dismounted and a sentry led Copper away. “Give Copper a good rub down and some oats. I rode hard.”

  “Aye Warlord.”

  Gawan just smiled, “Brother, this was meant to be. My wife and son are still the same people they were before they left. It was practical to become Christian in the court of the Emperor.”

  “Then they will abandon the cross?”

  “No.” My brother would not lie to me even if it meant causing me pain. “I am no Myrddyn. I cannot see into the ripples of time from this stone which has been thrown into our pond. We do what we must here and now. Let those who come after us make sense of what we do. You have hurt Arturus for he feels he has let you down. I beg you make him your squire. Show him how to become an equite. Mend the fences which now lie broken.”

  “He is your son. Why do you not have him as your squire?”

  “With Myrddyn gone it falls to me to be the wizard. I have fought too much and forgotten that which I was taught. I must relearn. The power Myrddyn had I can never have but I can become stronger than I am.”

  I saw apprehension on Arturus’ face as I entered. His mother’s countenance was like a mask and I could not see beneath it. Gawan was right. Arturus would be the next Warlord. Myrddyn had said he would be the last such Warlord. I owed it to my father and those who had died before to make him the best warrior I could. I smiled, “Arturus, you have enjoyed your time in the east. What say I make a warrior of you? Agramaine, Pol and Llewellyn are now equites. Will you be a squire so that I can make you an equite? If you are to be Dux Britannica then you will need skills.”

  Gwyneth asked, “Why does he need warrior skills? The Emperor does not fight!”

  I turned to Gawan’s wife. I was not fond of Gwyneth. “And this is not the Empire. This is a tiny outpost and all that remains of what was once Rome. Arturus would not wish men to die for him while he sat in comfort, would you?”

  I was proud of my nephew and s
pied hope in him for he stood and said, “I will train, mother. I may not be able to wield Saxon Slayer but I will become an equite. It may be a losing battle but I will fight our foes for our freedom.” And with that he came under my wing.

  The next day we went to the horse master and selected two horses for him. One was for war and would need to bear a mailed warrior one day. The other was for travelling the land and carrying weapons. I then resumed his training. Before he had gone away he had been in training. All young men were trained for war. Those of higher birth learned to use a sword and to ride a horse. Those of humbler stock used a bow and a spear. We held competitions for all on a regular basis. Like our swords we were honed.

  The soft life Arturus had enjoyed soon manifested itself. His hands blistered and then bled. His thighs and calves chafed. His buttocks ached. It said much for my nephew that he did not ask for time off to rest. He was there each morning with the other equites. As he wielded the wooden practice swords his muscles hardened. It would take time and that was in short supply.

  Arturus and his mother had brought servants with them. They had been slaves but manumission brought with it loyalty. Arturus two were Atticus an older slave and Demetrius who was a similar age to Arturus. Atticus proved a godsend. He had been a warrior who had chosen the wrong side and he had been destined for the galleys until Gwyneth had bought him. She saw, in him, someone to protect her son. Grateful that he was alive Atticus worked hard. It was he made the salve for Arturus which helped his hands. It was he who gave him advice. Demetrius was more of a body servant. Born into the life of a slave he was skilled in the art of massage and his hands eased Arturus muscles. Six months after their return Arturus looked and acted differently. His mother did not approve but my brother and I did. The other squires knew he was the best of them and he could have easily become an equite without waiting any longer. It was Arturus himself who determined that he would wait.

  “Warlord until I have fought in a war and bloodied my sword then I will not be blooded. I am content.”

  When war came it was swift and it was sudden. I had known that King Oswald sought revenge for our attack on his stronghold. The fact that we had breached his walls had terrified him. Rumours of Myrddyn’s demise were spoken in the Angle villages but as he had not been seen within the walls of Din Guardi then they remained a rumour. The Angles were now Christian. How did they reconcile a wizard with their god?

  The King did not come himself to wreak revenge on us. He wanted his revenge served cold. He had bided his time and then acted. He sent killers. He hired mercenaries. As my equites and I practised by the river a rider, galloping on a hardy little pony, reined in. “Warlord I bring dire news. I am Raibeart ap Ardel. Lord Lann Aelle and all the warriors of Aelletün have been slain. Raiders came in the night.”

  “Angles, from Bernicia?”

  He shook his head. “My father, Ardel, lived long enough to tell me that they were Saxons. They had tattooed faces and were savages. Those that they did not kill they took as captives.”

  “And how did you escape?”

  “I had been to the Big Water. My uncle has a farm close by the old Roman fort.”

  “Then ride back to Big Water and warn them there of the danger. Tell every village through which you pass. Until we have dealt with this danger then all are threatened.”

  Even as I turned Copper to ride back to Civitas Carvetiorum I was planning how to deal with this threat. My first priority was the recapture of the captives. As much as I wanted to bury my cousin he was dead and beyond my help. Once we had the captives back then I would deal with King Oswald. The mercenaries were the least of my worries. Once they were paid off then they would depart for pastures new. I would have my men keep watch for them. Saxons with tattooed faces were rare.

  I waved over Geraint, “Ride ahead. I need our scouts and archers preparing for war.”

  “Aye lord.”

  As he rode off Arturus asked, “Where will they take the captives?”

  “The road by Long Water heads north east. If they were without captives they might trying crossing the high ridge where the Roman Road, High Street runs. I cannot see that. They will head up the water and cross the bridge close to the deep pool. From there they can make the old Roman Road and pass by Banna.”

  “Was that not fortified?”

  “It was but the plague which took so many while you were in the east, took the men who lived there. We have not got around to manning it again.” I shook my head, “I am not the Warlord my father was. I allowed self-pity to distract me. My cousin’s people may have paid the price. It was, perhaps, aggravated by his lack of vigilance.” He gave me a questioning look. “His land was the frontier. When we had the fort at Banna there was a buffer. We will catch them. Their nearest stronghold is on the other side of the Great Divide. They have made the old Roman fort to the west of Hagustaldes-ham their frontier. If we cannot catch them before they reach it then we should not call ourselves horsemen!”

  “Do not be hard on yourself Warlord. You have not made a mistake.”

  “Llenlleog, in my position I have to anticipate what our enemies will do. I have looked within for too long. Now I need to look beyond our borders!”

  One innovation which Arturus and Atticus had brought was the Roman cavalry saddle. It was a strange piece of horse furniture. It had four horns and held the rider in place. You could not mount a horse the normal way. You have to vault over the back. For that reason, we only used them for the equites but it meant that we could now use a spear or a lance from its back. The horns held us in place. They had worked in practice but we had yet to try them in war. This seemed the perfect opportunity.

  Geraint’s arrival and the summons to my scouts and archers had alerted the fortress. “Put the new saddles on the horses. Equites we ride.”

  Kay and Bors emerged. They were already mailed. I wore just a leather jerkin. “What is amiss Warlord?”

  “Mercenaries have killed the men of Aelletün. We ride to recover the captives. We will take the road to the south of the Roman wall.”

  They nodded and raced to fetch their squires and horses. I saw Arturus trying to put my saddle on Copper. Despite the fact that it was one of his ideas he was struggling. I went over to help him. “Remember Arturus that you and the other squires are there to help us this day. If we look in danger then you come to our aid. Our archers and equites should be able to deal with any danger.”

  “Aye Warlord. Now that it is here I am a little fearful. Does that make me a coward?”

  “No, it makes you a man. If you said you were not afraid I would not trust you.”

  Just at that moment Daffydd ap Miach rode up. He had a horse farm to the south of the town. “I heard, lord. I only have forty archers ready to ride. The rest live too far away.”

  “This is a warband we hunt. The men we take will have to do.” I waved to Geraint to lead the scouts. They would need no orders. Their task was to find the enemy and watch them, unobserved. It sounded easier than it was. There were eight of them and they would send a rider back to keep us informed of their position.

  By the time we left our home, heading east, the mercenaries had more than half a day’s lead over us. We rode steadily along the road. Always the wall to our left reminded us of the old boundaries of Rheged. Now they were more fluid. Had I been the mercenaries then I might have been tempted to cross the wall and disappear in the forests of Dál Riata. It would have been harder for us to follow and they would have been able to move as quickly as our horses in the thickly wooded land. I knew that they had not done so for my scouts had not returned. We could steer our course along the Stanegate.

  There were few settlements along this part of Rheged. It was too close to the Angles and in the winter was exposed to the weather. There would be few places for the mercenaries to hide. The long ride along the desolately empty road gave me the time to think about this raid. King Oswald had used mercenaries for a reason. They would be more ruthless than his own warr
iors. They were not his people and if they failed he would have lost a few coins. The normal arrangement was half the payment before the job was done. Another reason for the mercenaries was, perhaps, to lure me east where he could fight me on ground of his choosing. I thought that this was a real possibility. I had come east with a relatively small number of warriors. The miscalculation appeared to be where they would fight us. We would catch them well before they were in Bernicia proper. Once we neared their captured fortress beyond Hagustaldes-ham then there would be danger. For the next twenty miles the road and indeed the wall were exposed. Once we passed the abandoned fort close by Steel Rigg then we might be able to see them. Our scouts certainly would.

  We were close to the fort with the baths when Tadgh rode in. “Warlord, they are ten Roman miles ahead.”

  “They have made good time.”

  He shook his head. “I am sorry to say it is at a cost. Have you not noticed the bodies in the ditches, lord? They have been slitting the throats of those who could not keep up and have abandoned them in the drainage ditches to the side.” He pointed to one such ditch. I saw the arm of an old lady. Our eyes and minds had been so focussed on the road ahead and we had trusted out scouts so much that we had not see that which was before our eyes.

  I mounted, “Enough! If we save our horses then our folk die! Ride like the wind!”

  My helmet rattled against the new horns of the saddle as I urged Copper on. The new arrangement meant that I had, as well as Saxon Slayer, two spears. When we caught up with them then we could give a good account of ourselves. “Tadgh, how many are there in this warband?”

  “We counted at least a hundred. There may be more. We spied scouts ahead of them.”

  “But not behind? They were not watching for pursuit?”

  “No, Warlord. It is as though they expected us to follow and we did not pose a threat.”

  I now regretted not bringing Arturus’ father with us. He would have been able to read what we could not see. I had thought this was a simple task. The further east we went the more I realised that this was anything but. With squires and archers, we had less than seventy men. We should have been superior to the Saxons we chased and yet they had killed every man in Lann Aelle’s town. He had men who had fought with us against King Oswald before. Their leader knew we were coming. Was he playing with us like a cat with a mouse? I suddenly saw ambushes behind every bush.