There was that. Coen was about eight thousand fighting men stronger with the Magnian and Middian forces. The outcome was far from a foregone conclusion for either side.
Then, noise spread back from the front ranks in a wave. Edgar made his way forwards. There they were. Coming over a rise and into view were rank upon rank of Barissian soldiers.
The noise became shouts of anger and howls of derision from the Thessians. The Thessians had suffered their homeland being ravaged for the last few days. They weren’t about to forget or forgive. They sounded ready for the fight. The Magnians began to join in, letting out tension by shouting at the approaching army. Some hurled abuse, some just let out wordless, animal noises.
The Barissians stopped just before the road, only a few hundred feet away. Edgar could get a good view of them.
‘About the same numbers of infantry as we have,’ suggested Leofwin, peering over Edgar’s shoulder.
Edgar nodded. ‘More cavalry than we do, though. And they’ll be holding a force in reserve, too.’
The enemy were organised into three divisions in the same way as Coen had done with their forces. The boar of Barissia was held aloft in the central division. A second flag was displayed there too, a golden crown on a red background.
‘Of course,’ Edgar murmured to himself. ‘He’s a king now.’
Would Emeric himself be there? If so, the two dukes would fight in the centre of the battlefield. However, Edgar thought it more likely that Emeric was seated on a horse some distance from the front line.
They watched on as the Barissians organised themselves into their formations. It was tempting to order a charge now. But the plan they had all agreed to was for the Barissians to come to them.
It seemed, however, like they would be disappointed. The Barissians got themselves ready and then waited. The battlefield went quiet. Neither side seemed willing to make the first move.
‘Gods, let’s just get this done,’ Edgar heard one of his soldiers say, almost in despair.
The waiting was excruciating. But no doubt better than what was to come.
Then, finally, sound and movement. Brass instruments were blown. Drums were pounded.
The Barissians began to shuffle forwards.
Edgar moved back into position. In amongst his men, he lost a clear view of the whole battlefield, but he could still see down to the road. The infantry division opposite his own, the Barissian right wing, was now crossing it. The Barissian drums beat out a steady rhythm, so that the ranks could march at the same pace and keep their order.
All the Magnian soldiers were now on their feet, weapons ready. The front rank locked their shields together, presenting an intimidating wall to the enemy. Shouts began to roar out again as the moment of impact drew close.
They heard the clash over to their right as the Barissians engaged with the Thessian units. Shouts and grunts filled the air, followed by screams.
A roar erupted from the Barissian infantry ahead of them, and they began to charge the remaining distance towards the Magnian shields, intent on smashing their way through. A few feet to go and the Magnians responded, running to meet them. An enormous thud filled the air as shield after shield smacked against each other in a long line.
In some places along the line Magnians had been pushed over, in others Barissians had fallen backwards. As the two sides heaved against each other, those in the front rank who had a free hand stabbed with short swords, or hacked with hand axes. The spearmen in the row in front of Edgar began their deadly work. One of them leaped high into the air, thrusting his spear downwards over the shoulder of the man in front, trying to find an undefended spot. Again and again he did it, the wicked iron tip thrusting down at different angles. Next to him a second spearman used a different technique. He was crouched down on one knee and he thrust his spear in between the legs of the men ahead of him, hoping to connect with the shin or ankle of the enemy, either to wound or to knock them off balance. Meanwhile, the Barissians were doing the same. Ear splitting screams rang out from both sides as metal plunged into limbs, weapons of all kinds found exposed faces, necks and groins.
The ranks ahead of Edgar had succeeded in stabbing and maiming several enemy soldiers. It looked like there might be potential to open a gap in the enemy line. Edgar and Leofwin shared a look and nodded in agreement.
‘Push!’ shouted Edgar at the top of his voice, though he wasn’t optimistic about how many of his men heard the instruction above the shouts and screams around them. He had to lead by example. Edgar, Leofwin and Brictwin moved forwards together, adding their weight to the front rank. At the same time, Edgar had to beware Barissian thrusts coming over from their side of the wall. He bent his legs somewhat so that the top of his head wasn’t too exposed. The rest of the Magnians, to the side and behind, joined in, so that Edgar was now himself being pushed forwards by those in the ranks behind him.
He stuck his head up to grab a quick look at the enemy. The Barissians had been quick to react and were now pushing back, the two armies involved in a massive scrum. The Magnians had gained a little ground at first, but the contest had become even. He looked along the line in both directions. The same pushing match was taking wherever the two armies had met. But the Magnians had made better progress in some places than others, so that while Edgar’s section of the line was ahead, off to the sides the line bent back behind him.
A Barissian short sword jabbed down, inches from Edgar’s head. Its owner had leaned over the shoulder of the man in front of Edgar and was driving down with the blade. Edgar tried to move out of the way, but he was so squashed in now he didn’t have much wriggle room. He knew that he needed to act.
He struggled to release his right arm which still gripped his own sword. He did so by pushing himself backwards with his left hand, allowing enough of a gap for him to jerk his right arm free. The Barissian sword came down again. This time the tip of the blade hit the back of the soldier in front of Edgar, but didn’t come down with enough force to puncture his armour. Edgar reacted quickly, chopping at the wrist of the Barissian with quick, brutal hacks. The enemy was forced to release his sword and drew his arm away before Edgar could do serious damage.
Edgar followed the retreating arm, standing up tall to take a good look at his enemy. He took in a sea of squashed soldiers, red faces groaning amid the crush of bodies. Ahead and slightly to the left was the man he had clashed with, shouting in his direction, spittle erupting from his mouth. Edgar crouched down a little, pulled his arm back, then launched up and forwards, thrusting his sword towards the Barissian’s face. The man reacted, gripping Edgar’s forearm just in time to stop the blow. Edgar didn’t stop, though. He yanked his arm backwards and forwards until it broke free. He shoved his sword into the neck of his enemy, drew it out, shoved it in again. Again, and again. Making sure that he was dead. When he was sure, he looked. The man was dead alright, his head lolling to one side. But the crush of bodies meant that his body was still upright, with no room for it to fall to the floor.
Then, something gave. Edgar found himself stumbling forwards as the resistance of the Barissians collapsed. He just managed to keep his feet and looked around him. The clear lines of the two armies had disappeared and Edgar was unsure which direction he was facing. The shield walls had collapsed into a chaotic melee. Leofwin and Brictwin were soon by his side.
‘Back off!’ Leofwin shouted in his ear.
But Edgar didn’t want to back away from the fight now, not when they had broken through the enemy’s line.
Leofwin grabbed him by the arm.
‘We need you alive!’ he demanded.
Edgar nodded. He had to control himself. He let Leofwin lead him back a few yards, to where young Ragulf held the Magnian flag.
He took the opportunity to look around the battlefield. While the Barissian shield wall had given way at this point, it had stood firm elsewhere along the line, and the Magnians hadn’t been able to take advantage of it, getting caught up in hand to hand
fighting with the rear ranks of the Barissians who had moved to block the hole. Even now, Barissians and Magnians were backing away from each other as the first few frantic minutes of battle led to a pause. The Barissians continued to retreat, leaving a space between the two sides, and allowing everyone to catch their breath.
Edgar could hear the sound of fighting from his right, suggesting that the Thessians and Barissians in the centre were still going at it, but he was too far away to see. Ahead, though, he could quite clearly see the bodies of the dead littering the ground between the two armies. It hadn’t taken long for the two sides to have killed so many. Some of the badly wounded took the chance to leave the front line, helped along by their comrades. Their fight was over already.
The Barissians were on the move again, but instead of renewing the attack they retreated further backwards. Edgar looked down after them. He was about to ask Leofwin whether they should order an attack, then he closed his mouth again. The infantry was withdrawing to allow the Barissian cavalry to advance.
‘Spearmen!’ Edgar shouted, and others joined in the call, as the Magnians reorganised themselves. The long spears were the best defence against cavalry, a bristling line of wood and iron that deterred a charge. The Magnian spearmen readied themselves, some of them planting the shaft against the ground to give the weapon greater resistance.
The Barissian cavalry also carried spears. They had now organised themselves into a straight line and advanced towards the waiting Magnians. Not a charge, but intimidating nonetheless. Their warhorses were bred for the battlefield and could reach sixteen hands in height.
The Barissian cavalry came at the Magnian position. Some of them hurled spears, standing in the stirrups to give them extra force. But all had to be mindful of the Magnian spearmen, who could cripple their horses if they got too close. Unlike the brutal shoving and thrusting of the infantry clash, this was more a test of discipline. The horsemen started to approach the Magnian line, looking for any weaknesses, before retreating away. Some of the Magnian spearmen gave chase but those who went too far found that the horses could quickly be turned around and were cut off, isolated, and brought down. Meanwhile, those spearmen who worked together could approach an isolated horseman from several angles and get in a strike on a horse, bringing the rider to the ground and skewering them.
This game of cat and mouse went on for some time, before the Barissian cavalry retreated down to the road. They had made little impact in terms of casualties, but had tied up the Magnian spearmen, forcing them to concentrate while their own infantry could rest. The Barissian infantry, though, now returned for a second time—the drums behind them beating out a marching rhythm.
Once more, the Magnian shield wall set itself in place to meet the attack. Once more, Edgar placed himself in the third rank. His army needed him to stay alive. Even at the best of times it was common for soldiers’ morale to break if their leader died. Here, in a battle that Edgar knew not all his men thought necessary, that was even more likely.
Those archers who still had arrows left fired them at the enemy. Those with shields raised them in defence. Then, the Barissians came at them again, the shield walls clashing against each other. The Magnian spearmen in front of Edgar resumed their deadly work, reaching out to strike the enemy where they could. The Barissians forced the Magnians a few paces backwards. The spearmen, unable to use their weapons effectively in the more confined space, gave way for Edgar’s rank to move in, pushing back against the Barissians and chopping and thrusting with their shorter weapons.
The grunts and screams of pain returned as men on both sides suffered injuries. The stink of sweat and piss assailed Edgar as he supported the man in front, while looking to attack the Barissian wall. Their shields were packed tight. He thought about crouching down to look for an opening, but with the press of bodies feared that he might lose his footing. He found that he was shouting: mindless, animal roars. Madness, he thought to himself. Why do men do this? Utter madness.
Eventually the two walls broke apart, nothing gained by either side. Again, it was the Barissians who withdrew. Were their efforts getting more half-hearted, Edgar wondered? He remembered Duke Coen’s thoughts about Emeric’s army. Many of them were mercenaries, and mercenaries weren’t keen on getting themselves killed or maimed. But that was what everyone faced here. Neither side was gaining an advantage, and the longer it went on, the more the casualties would pile up.
The front rank was battered and bruised. Some had huge gashes inflicted on them. Others had broken ribs. Fresher soldiers came in to replace those who couldn’t remain. But the new arrivals were generally younger and less experienced. Edgar was getting increasingly keen for this to end, but Coen’s tactics were to hold their position, and so that was what they must do.
There followed a lull in the battle as the Barissians seemed in no hurry to renew their attack. Some of the soldiers sat down to rest. From somewhere Brictwin had been given a flask of ale which he passed on to Edgar. Edgar took a swig before passing it on to Leofwin.
‘Your Highness!’ came a shout.
Edgar walked to the front of his army, and looked into the distance, where some of his soldiers were pointing. Onto the road came a new cavalry force. It took Edgar a while to register what it was. The Barissian reserves. A large force of mounted men was heading their way. Emeric had played his last card. The intention was clear. His reserves had been sent to drive the Magnians from the battlefield, and then turn on the Thessians.
‘Ready yourselves!’ shouted Edgar. ‘Get a message to our cavalry!’
He wanted to make sure that Wilchard had seen the danger—though in truth, his steward’s small force could have little impact on the numbers heading their way.
The Barissian reserves joined up with the cavalry of their right division and swung around, aiming for the far corner of the Magnian line. They were constrained from manoeuvring much farther to their right by the caltrops laid by Coen’s men.
They were coming at speed, much faster than the first cavalry attack of the day. His men had their line of spears ready for impact. Edgar got a glimpse of Wilchard’s force making a feint towards the Barissians, before turning their mounts around and retreating. A good portion of the Barissian cavalry chased after them.
Well, considered Edgar, that was all Wilchard could have done. If he had tried to engage he would have been swept aside.
Meanwhile, the main part of the Barissian cavalry came crashing into Edgar’s infantry, only a few yards from where the Prince himself was standing. Some of the horses were speared and came crashing down to the ground, thrashing in agony. The Magnian line was disrupted, with more horsemen riding through and engaging the defenders. The far corner of Edgar’s division started to bend out of shape, as the impact of the attack pushed people out of place.
Edgar was quick to see the danger. If he didn’t shore up the Magnian position it could quickly be overrun.
‘Come on!’ he instructed his two bodyguards and, for once, Leofwin didn’t argue.
‘The Prince! The Prince!’ Leofwin shouted, letting those in front know that Edgar was coming.
Men saw Edgar arrive and redoubled their efforts, organising a line around him. Edgar pressed onwards, taking the fight to the Barissians. The battle line was now a mess of bodies, both man and horse. The Magnians could move in and out of the obstacles more easily than the mounted Barissians, who had to take care where they took their horses.
Edgar knocked away a lunged spear with his sword and then slashed it across the face of the rider’s horse. The beast backed away, its rider struggling to stay on. Edgar then moved to support Brictwin, who was being pushed back by two riders. He drew one of the riders towards him.
Looking up, Edgar got a shock. It was a face he recognised. It took a split second for him to work out why he would recognise one of the Barissians. It was Gervase Salvinus, the man who had led the attack on Toric’s Temple. Edgar remembered their eyes meeting across the yard of the temple com
plex, before Salvinus had led his men away. This time, they were a lot closer. They locked eyes again. Recognition flared on Salvinus’s face. Maybe only now did he realise that the man he had encountered at Ecgworth was the Prince of South Magnia.
‘To me!’ shouted Salvinus, his voice carrying across the battlefield. ‘Kill their Prince!’
Salvinus trotted forwards, raising his spear above his head as if Edgar were a fish he was about to skewer. Leofwin appeared to Edgar’s left, threatening the mercenary leader. Outnumbered, Salvinus was in a dangerous position. If he made a lunge at Edgar, he would expose himself to an attack from Leofwin. Instead, he backed away from them.
‘To the Prince!’ shouted Leofwin.
Magnian soldiers began to congregate around them. Ragulf arrived with the standard. At the same time, Edgar could see Salvinus organising his mercenaries for another attack. These were the men who had served under him for years. Experienced, ruthless men. No doubt many of the soldiers who had raided Toric’s Temple were here. So be it. It seemed to Edgar that the next few minutes would decide the outcome of the battle.
After being protected back in the third rank for most of the battle, Edgar now stood in the centre of his front line. Leofwin had found him a shield to use. If the Barissians were in any doubt, Ragulf’s flag flew above him, indicating exactly where he was. But he needed to be there. His men needed to see him fighting for them, if they were to fight for him.
Salvinus and the Barissians came for them. Their objective was clear: kill Edgar, force the Magnians off the battlefield, and then encircle Coen and the Thessians.
Salvinus wanted the kill for himself. He shoved his spear straight at Edgar. Edgar blocked it with his shield. The force of the strike made him stagger backwards, but someone behind propped him up and kept him on his feet. Someone sent a spear in Salvinus’s direction, but he casually swerved out of the way. He sent his spear back towards Edgar, but somehow Leofwin was waiting for the move. Edgar’s bodyguard lashed out with his sword, and cut the wooden shaft in two. Salvinus let out a roar of frustration, throwing the useless half of the weapon in Leofwin’s direction, and drawing his sword.
The Weapon Takers Saga Box Set Page 57
