by N. M. Browne
Rhonwen did not look in Ursula’s direction. But Ursula still had the sense that she was taking more notice of her than anyone else was at the fire.
‘Kai,’ Rhonwen said and a strange electric thrill ran through Ursula at her voice. ‘Let me look at that arm before you bleed to death and put the fire out in the same night. We cannot afford to lose any more druid blood just now. Come to the tent, I want a word with you.’
Rhonwen’s speaking voice was beautiful. It was low, seductive and powerful. Ursula could sense the steely will beneath that velvet voice, so that the mildest suggestion became an ironclad command. Kai rose meekly to his feet, still clutching his arm, and followed Rhonwen away from the fire. When he left, Ursula could see pooled blood where he had been sitting. He must have been in agony, yet he had managed not to let it show. Ursula’s inexplicable respect for the man seemed justified.
‘Ursula?’ Dan’s voice sounded very small and lost. ‘Ursula, are you OK?’
Ursula turned to see a bemused but more normal-looking Dan, eyeing her with concern and relief.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I followed you, but I must have lost you in the mist. Who are these people? Have they hurt you? Do you know where we are?’
It seemed so long since she had stormed off in a temper into the yellow mist that it took Ursula a minute to realise what Dan meant.
‘It doesn’t matter about that,’ she said quickly, embarrassed. ‘Are you OK? You didn’t look right … you’re covered in blood.’
‘I don’t remember what happened. There are bits missing. I found a sword and a dead girl and the dog, Braveheart. He’s great,’ Dan’s wan tone warmed with sudden enthusiasm, as he patted the giant beside him, ‘and then I got here. I must have fallen and banged my head or something because it doesn’t all fit together right … ’ He looked at her with something like panic. ‘Ursula, where the hell are we? I’ve run for miles and I can’t even find the road and I’ve got to report the murder of a girl.’ He paused and then said sharply, ‘Where’s Bright Killer?’
‘Where’s what?’
‘My sword, I mean … a sword I found, I called it Bright Killer.’
‘Macsen wanted to ask you about that.’
‘Macsen?’
‘He said he’s called Prince Macsen. He’s in charge. I think he knows the man who owned it.’
‘I’m not surprised, there can’t be that many people who take such an interest in antique swords. Why are they dressed like that?’
‘I don’t know. They’re Combrogi. I think it’s how they dress.’
‘They’re what?’ Dan was not making this any easier. Ursula was embarrassed both by the extent of her ignorance and by her inexplicable pockets of knowledge. How did she explain a sudden grasp of the language? She was only in the second group for French and the third for German. Dan was in the top set for both – and did Latin. She continued doggedly.
‘The Combrogi – it’s what the tribespeople here call themselves. The trouble is I’m not sure where here is. I’m beginning to be afraid, look, don’t laugh, right, but I’m afraid we might have slipped back in time somehow. I know it sounds stupid.’
Dan didn’t say anything. She wasn’t even sure he was listening. She had thought he was himself again but he seemed very agitated.
‘I need to find Bright Killer,’ he said, as if she hadn’t exposed herself to his ridicule with her bizarre theory. He tried to get to his feet, but was constrained by his tied hands. The dog nuzzled his cheek. Kai had returned from Rhonwen’s tent and was by Dan’s side at the first sign of his movement. From Kai’s expression it was clear that he regarded Dan as some kind of wild animal. Perhaps that’s what a bear sark was. The red gash on Kai’s arm was gone. Ursula looked again. It must have been on the other side. With disbelief, she checked a third time. Kai had changed his jerkin, and there was no sign at all that he had ever been injured. Was it possible that Rhonwen had healed him? Surely it was not. Anyway, Ursula did not want to consider that mystery now. Rhonwen was not far behind Kai and her very presence made Ursula anxious.
Rhonwen looked at Dan with the same intense gaze she had fixed on Ursula but Dan seemed unperturbed by it. His need to find his sword was uppermost in his mind. Rhonwen scowled slightly. She said to Kai in her own tongue, ‘It would be better if we did the rite for him too. He must be made one of us. He is too dangerous otherwise. We might learn more from that one if I were to lead the ceremony,’ she indicated Ursula with a disdainful inclination of her head.
It was Dan’s turn to scowl. He understood nothing. He was unused to it. Ursula, on the other hand, found herself angry at being spoken about as if she were of no account. This woman would not put her through any rite. Whatever she had in mind could not be good, of that Ursula was certain. Ursula was determined to assert herself. She spoke up in Rhonwen’s tongue.
‘My brother and I want no ceremony. We want to go home, you have held us here long enough against our will. There will be people looking for us.’
Rhonwen looked both surprised and angry. Dan looked astonished. Rhonwen switched languages.
‘I thought you said the ceremony was unsuccessful,’ she said accusingly to Kai.
Kai looked uncomfortable. ‘Aye, Lady, in part. I said the boy has not understood everything. He does not understand our ways, as should have happened in the rite, but he has learned our language. That is all. We learned nothing from him, but the true meaning of headache. He would not let us learn his thoughts.’ He rubbed his head above the temples as if it still ached and said thoughtfully, ‘I do not think the fault lay within the rite or the way I conducted it. There is something within the boy. He is unlike the others. We have called him Boar Skull. He hides his secrets in a harder head than I’ve ever come across.’
What Rhonwen intended to say next was drowned out by a sudden pounding of hooves, but Ursula sensed that it was unlikely to be complimentary. A rider galloped into camp and dismounted neatly at Macsen’s feet. His tight economy of movement somehow conveyed a terrible urgency. Ursula found she knew his name. He was Caradoc-the-secret. He spoke in a voice so low that it could scarcely be heard even in the sudden silence of the watchful camp.
Macsen’s own voice was hardly any louder but it carried like a clarion call of danger. ‘No feast tonight. We will leave at once. Caradoc has found Madoc’s daughter murdered, and slaughtered Ravens in the wood. Trouble will be here soon. This is not my chosen field for killing, comrades. We will move.’
The men who had been stretching their legs, watering the horses or warming themselves by the fire readied themselves within minutes. The fire was carefully extinguished and all traces of their brief stay disguised. Caradoc’s small, stocky form slipped away to confuse their trail.
‘What’s going on?’ Dan understood nothing of Macsen’s words. Frustration lent a desperate edge to his tone.
Kai caught Macsen’s eye. The Prince strode over to join them.
‘Boy!’ he said in English. And Macsen’s hard eyes sought out Dan’s bewildered ones.
Dan was grateful for words he could understand. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘There was a girl in the wood. Did you kill her? Is that where you got the sword?’ The shocked and horrified expression on Dan’s face was answer enough. He swallowed and looked back at Macsen with haunted eyes.
‘I saw the girl. She had long red hair. She was already dead. I did not kill her.’
‘The Ravens, in your tongue …’ Macsen struggled for the word, ‘Romans. There are two dead Roman scouts in the wood. Did you kill them?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t see how I could …’
Macsen’s face lost none of its impassivity but Ursula sensed his glimmer of sympathy for the wild-eyed boy.
‘This is not the time for talk. I have seen you fight. I will give you your sword. I don’t know what Boar Skull can do, but he is your brother to defend here. Don’t look to my men to help you. We may have killing to do. Stay mounted if you
can. We will ride. Whoever killed those Ravens may have brought death to us a little earlier than I’d have hoped. They were scouts. There will be others behind. We must ride fast. May the Goddess who brought you protect you now.’
With that he was gone, whispering orders to the men.
Kai untied Dan’s bonds and gave him Bright Killer. Dan gripped it as if it was the only thing he understood. Perhaps it was. With steady hands, he cut through the dog’s rough muzzle. He was growling. The noise was about the most threatening that Ursula had ever heard. Kai gave Ursula a sword too. It was plain in comparison to Bright Killer but heavy, longer and sharper than her mother’s carving knife. It gave her no comfort at all.
Kai patted her shoulder and murmured, ‘Taranis keep you, Boar Skull.’ Then he was off.
There was much movement of men and ponies. Macsen was manoeuvring what Ursula assumed to be a cart. All was confusion. Ursula struggled onto her pony. There were no stirrups so Dan had to help her on. The sword got in the way. She was very frightened. Dan seemed quite calm and vaulted onto one of the spare horses as Kai and the others had. Ursula envied him his athleticism. She felt clumsy and uncomfortable. She held the sword’s hilt awkwardly in her right hand. She was very afraid she was going to accidentally remove her horse’s ears with her sword.
‘Don’t worry, Ursula, I’ll keep you safe.’ Dan seemed to have gained in confidence with the return of the great sword. The huge dog seemed happy to stand at his horse’s side. Dan’s tone was earnest, but she could not see his face. What turned him into a berserker? Would he turn on her?
Then, suddenly, the clouds parted around the moon and the ground was bathed in pale moonlight. Something silvery glinted in the woods. There was no time to run. It was the crested helmet of a soldier, an enemy soldier. The more she looked the more she saw. It was like counting stars in a cloudy sky. An arrow hissed past her ear. Someone or something let out a bloodcurdling wolf’s howl. Ursula did not know if it was Rhonwen or Braveheart. That seemed to be a signal for wild cries and ululation, a cacophony of aggression. The tribesmen had killing to do. They charged, hurling spears and insults at the enemy in equal measure, like drunken hooligans in some street brawl. The enemy stepped out of the trees to meet them. Ursula’s heart almost stopped. They were not in parade ground formation, but there was no doubting what they were.
‘Get behind me. Now!’ said Dan in a tight, strained voice.
The enemy were Roman and there must have been fifty of them. There was the clash of metal on metal over and above the din of the wild Combrogi’s battle-cries. The battle had begun.
Chapter Six
Dan slid from his horse and planted himself before her, Braveheart snarling at his side. He had no shield, but then he wouldn’t have known how to use one anyway. He held Bright Killer in his hands, ready. His heart was racing but he was determined to keep in control. The other Combrogi seemed to have abandoned their horses too. They were hurling themselves at the enemy as they emerged from the woods, screaming taunts and wild war cries as they went. He strained to watch their huge bulky shapes. He watched intently as if it were a game and he were trying to learn the rules. There did not seem to be any rules – there was just death any way the Combrogi could deal it. The Combrogi were all big men. Even bareheaded they towered above the Romans and their extra reach and height gave them an obvious advantage in hand-to-hand combat. They also fought very dirty. There was no code of chivalry here. The Combrogi used everything, their brute strength, spear, sword, foot, shield and spear end. He watched as a bear-like warrior charged a Roman. He thrust his long spear into the Roman’s unprotected sword arm, slashed at his belly below the breastplate, and then hacked the whole arm off with his sword, before retrieving his spear. Dan could hear bones crack. He could hear metal against metal, metal against wood, metal against bone, metal against flesh. He strained to see. The moon was shadowed now, but he was glad he couldn’t see more. The dark silhouettes and the brutal sounds were enough.
How could the Combrogi run out there and start hacking away at strangers? It reminded him of the kind of madness that sometimes struck after a football match. The Combrogi were like football hooligans with swords. They gloried in the mayhem of a pitched battle. Where was he that this could be going on? Where were the police or the British Army or whoever stopped thugs in strange clothes brawling like this? Somehow, after this was finished, he must get Ursula and Braveheart back to safety. For now it was up to him to keep them safe. He did not know when he had taken mental responsibility for Ursula or indeed for Braveheart but he had and he would just have to do his best to make everything all right. He stood squarely in front of Ursula, who was still on her horse. A phrase flitted through his mind, ‘Here I stand I can do no other.’ It was how he felt. He could hear Braveheart’s harsh breathing. He knew he was ready, anxious even, to join in. He hoped Braveheart wouldn’t count as a dangerous dog and have to be put down when he got him home. He only fought in self-defence after all.
So Dan watched the Combrogi, watched what they did and recoiled from what he might have to do, if anyone came his way. Weren’t the Romans and the Combrogi both his enemies? If they tried to hurt him or his friends they were. He felt small and ineffectual but he gripped Bright Killer grimly. He was glad Braveheart was ready and eager. The sword’s weight and the dog’s muscular presence made him less scared. He balanced the heavy blade and waited.
From her position on the pony Ursula had as good a view of the battle as was possible. The moon was clouded again and it took time for her eyes to adjust to see the black forms against the black night. There was no sign of Rhonwen or Macsen. Dan stood in front of her like a sprinter at the starting block. That left only Macsen’s men, Gwyn, Kai, Prys, Rhodri and Caradoc, to fight the Romans. Maybe there were less than fifty of them, maybe more. She could not judge. It was academic anyway. There were too many. There was no hope for the Combrogi against such odds. The wild ululation from Macsen’s men seemed like whistling in the dark. Maybe they thought so too, for there was less noise now, just grunts and curses, hard breathing and the ominous clink of Roman armour as the enemy moved. There were cries too as men died. Men were dying there in front of her. It did not seem possible. Dark forms screamed and writhed and thudded onto the earth but it all happened in a kind of envelope of silence. The night, darker than any night she’d ever known, swallowed everything.
Ursula did not know what to do. She saw Kai spear a Roman, then raise his great sword to smash down through his opponent’s neck. Moonlight briefly lit his face. It was contorted with effort and a grim kind of joy. These men who had taken her prisoner liked to kill. They did it well, or so it seemed, but no matter how many of the enemy they felled more kept coming out of the trees. She saw Gwyn aim his spear with ruthless accuracy into the unprotected face of a Roman, then push him aside with his heavy wooden shield. Prys’ shield had five or six spears protruding from it. He wielded it like some giant porcupine, as an extra weapon to turn aside the Roman shield and thrust his own spear home. She had to look and yet she didn’t really want to see what these men were doing to each other.
The Romans shouted to one another, their voices drifting towards her out of the dark. They were shouting instructions, warnings, and directions as if engaged in some complex team game. In spite of the bloodshed inflicted by the battle-crazed Combrogi, they moved with almost mechanical calm and began to arrange themselves into battle formation. Five wild men, even five with the strength of ten, could not harry them into forgetting their discipline. Ursula knew nothing of battles but even she could see that the Romans were more than warriors. Individually the Combrogi warriors were a match for them but now the Romans had made themselves into a killing machine. Dan muttered under his breath. Braveheart growled. The war-hound’s bloodied body quivered with the urgency of his need to join the battle, just waiting for the command that would unleash him, but Dan kept on waiting and somehow so did Braveheart.
The Combrogi on the ground only gradually
became aware that they could not fight men in wedge formation. There was no room for single combat; there was no one to fight. There was only a wedge of trained men who knew that if they kept in formation they could not lose. The Combrogi retreated back to the waiting horses and carts. Prys ran towards Ursula, wiping blood and sweat from his eyes, licking his dry lips. Ursula could almost feel his contempt for her, for not joining battle. The air between them was colder for his disdain. He spat briefly in her direction and then ran past. She saw Kai and Gwyn too; they were breathing heavily, but, from what Ursula could see, were unharmed. They exchanged brief grunted words that Ursula could not hear and Kai patted Gwyn briefly on the back. The dark stuff that stained their tunics was not their blood.
