‘Before this summer, this lad had never used a bow.’ said Dominic. ‘Now his aim is accurate, and he releases with power.’ He pointed to all the men sitting at the long table. ‘What I taught Tomas I can teach all of you. I can teach you enough to injure or kill men from distance.’ He held up the bow and nodded towards a small man with knotty hands sitting at the far end of the table. ‘This bow was made here in this village. I’ve spoken to Gilbert there, and set him the task of using his woodcutting skills to make bows; we found a grove of yew a day’s walk from here, and there is no better wood for the weapon. Some of the women are good at making arrows from the hazel that grows around here. Before the winter’s out we’ll have a wealth of bows and arrows, and we’ll have men skilled in their use.’
‘And meanwhile, I’ll continue to show you how to use spear and ax,’ said Withred. ‘Although, as I said earlier, our last resort would be to fight them up close.’
Brinley asked Dominic: ‘Have you decided who will go with you into the forest?’
‘The nimble and fleet footed will go with me,’ said Dominic. He looked at Augustus, who had earlier impressed him with his calm authority. ‘Or maybe the nimble and stout,’ he added.
‘That probably counts me out,’ said Brinley. ‘Though, as the elder of the village I should stay behind in case all this goes wrong.’
Murdoc stood and walked with a slight limp alongside the table. ‘The fleet footed eh?’ He looked towards Dominic, his expression determined. ‘If ever a reason was given for a speedy recovery then this is it. I’ve fought alongside you before in the woods, and even if it means hobbling to my death I’ll fight beside you again.’
Simon looked up from his tankard, which he had stared into while listening to the debate. ‘It seems that I don’t fall into any group,’ he mused. ‘I’m neither fleet footed nor nimble. I’ve been given a task, anyway’ He looked towards Withred and smiled. ‘But even if I were fleet of foot I would still wish to stay behind with Withred. If we can scare away an angry bear, then we’ll surely terrify the raiders.’
Before the discussion moved on, Darga, whose bravado had returned, said brashly, ‘I wish to fight the heathens as soon as possible, and if that means entering the forest then that’s what I’ll do. So come, let us decide now, while we're all together in this room. Who rides into the wilderness with Dominic?’
Brinley sighed at Darga’s persistence. ‘These things cannot be decided on a whim. We must make sure we find the right balance of who goes with Dominic and who stays with Withred.’ He looked at Dominic. ‘You’re the expert woodsman. What are your thoughts on this?’
‘If I may,’ said Dominic. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this and already have a good idea who’ll ride with me into the forest. I’ve altered my list, though, because this meeting’s given me food for thought.’
Brinley nodded solemnly. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘maybe Darga will get his answer after all.’
‘It’s my knowledge of the forest which led me to my decision,’ said Dominic. ‘I spoke about it at length with Withred and we think we have the right balance.’ Looking at James, he said quietly. ‘No doubt you want revenge for your son, and for this reason, and also because I have the utmost faith in you, I would like you to ride with me.’
James nodded his thanks. Dominic now walked over to Augustus and put his hand on his shoulder. He laughed as he said, ‘I see here a man who is stouter than the Roman he was named after, and with a cold glint in his eye. A fearsome foe if ever I saw one.’
Augustus took his knife from his belt, the tendons on his thick arm rippling as he squeezed the hilt. ‘I take it I’m the food for thought,’ he said. ‘Thank-you, I’ll be glad to ride alongside my old friend James, and for Eidon I’ll whet this blade on Saxon bone just as I do on the bones of cattle.’ He turned to three equally stout men who sat beside him. ‘I’d be very well supported with my brothers here, should you consent them to ride with you as well.’
‘Don’t forget that your knife skills must be used on live and cunning beasts,’ said Dominic. He looked searchingly at Augustus until his grave expression melted into a smile. ‘But yes… I would be happy to have you, brothers and all, ride alongside me into the forest.’
‘And me?’ said Darga impatiently, ‘Am I to ride alongside you also?’
Dominic paused, lips pursed, apparently undecided. He knew the youth was trouble. Leaving him in the village to train with Withred’s group would probably not be a good idea. He would be complaining and disruptive, that was for sure. Maybe the better course would be to take him into the forest, where he would do less damage.
His musing over, Dominic said: ‘Yes … you can come as well. I think it’s time to see if you can match your words with actions. There’s no denying that your youthfulness and enthusiasm would be better used in a mobile force.’ He fixed Darga with a penetrating stare. ‘But you’ll listen to everything I tell you and act upon it. You’ll also learn to keep quiet.’
Darga nodded, an insolent smile flickering upon him. After a moment, he averted his eyes from Dominic’s gaze as he twisted the fabric of his jerkin in surly compliance.
‘Murdoc already knows he’s coming with me,’ said Dominic, turning from Darga and addressing Murdoc directly. ‘Your leg gets better by the day, and you’ve already bloodied your spear on the enemy in similar circumstances, and that makes you invaluable to me.’
He looked at the rest of the gathering. ‘And that, my friends, is the number of the forest raiding party. Eight men will ride with me: Augustus and his three stout but nimble brothers; Murdoc, Darga and James, and maybe my trusted scouting apprentice, Tom.’
Tomas, who already knew of Murdoc’s inclusion, beamed at Dominic’s endorsement.
‘You’re confident indeed if you think that a force of eight men—or seven men and a boy if you decide to take that worthy lad—can beat fifty,’ said Brinley. ‘But we must have faith in you, we’ve no other choice.’
‘The forest party needs to rely on stealth and concealment,’ explained Dominic. ‘A small force can move quickly and decisively.’
Withred now took the floor. ‘The rest of all the able-bodied will receive further instruction in the use of the ax and spear from me. Dom will show you how to use the bow. We may not be able to match their experience, but at least we can put up a credible fight if needs must.’ He looked at Dominic, who nodded. ‘Soon the morning will be upon us. Tomorrow we’ll practice again. We thank you all for your attention.’
He went to Dominic as the meeting dispersed. ‘Thanks for taking Darga,’ he said in an aside. ‘Just be sure to lose him in the forest.’
Dominic chuckled. ‘I could not have left him with you. I’m not that pitiless.’
Brinley remained pensive and seated as the crowd left the longhouse. He seriously wondered if they would still be alive to see the next harvest.
CHAPTER TWENTY- FOUR
When the blizzard abated, the people of Camulodunum left their habitations for the first time in three weeks.
A huge fire burned in the town square, attracting a throng who were eager to escape the stuffy confines of the huts. Kept going day and night, the blaze turned the deep snow of the square into a sea of slush and mud—a combination which soaked into the footwear of the milling crowds.
Many hard-nosed warriors had come to the town for the winter, and these were the focus for Wlensling. Many had been considering returning to the continent, unwilling to embark upon a fruitless journey through the forbidding forest. Most were convinced that the island had nothing else of value to offer. Although aware that the Romans had established many marching routes throughout the kingdom, the men still felt that all the best land and treasure had gone.
Wlensling and Egbert had been set the task of recruiting men for Osric’s spring campaign. The word had quickly spread that Wlensling and his war band had discovered new, lush pastoral land. Egbert, relatively sober now, had provisionally recruited seventy men, all of them se
asoned fighters who seemed eager to join Osric’s upcoming incursion.
As the conflagration set his face to a red glow, Osric studied the crowd sauntering before him. He turned to Wlensling and Egbert. ‘By Woden’s balls, this heat revives my strength.’ He warmed his hands on the fire. ‘Now show me who you have in mind.’
As Wlensling pointed at certain men in the crowd, Osric either gave a nod of approval or a headshake of rejection. He eliminated those with whom he had personal disagreements, not wishing any rivalry to complicate the forthcoming campaign. The remainder were men who had ridden with him before; men who had proved themselves to be both both loyal and fearless. This left him with a core of between forty and sixty campaigners. He instructed Wlensling and Egbert to gather them for a meeting in the alehouse later that evening.
As darkness fell, the recruits began to arrive, and before long, the small room was full of drinking and laughing men. The gloom inside necessitated the burning of many torches, and these exuded a miasma of thick, oily smoke.
The clamour abated, with just a few isolated coughs breaking the silence. Osric jumped upon one of the tables and banged his foot on the scarred, oak planking. ‘Listen to me, fellows,’ he shouted, ‘I’ve good news for you all.’ He studied the group below him, nodding occasionally to familiar faces in the crowd. ‘Most of you have ridden with me before and know me to be a fair leader. Indeed, many of you have gained a prodigious profit from your association with me.’ He looked around the room at the sea of upturned and expectant faces. ‘I see a lot of gold in this room, much of it given by me. Now you’ve the chance to have riches beyond compare.’
Alfred, a Saxon who had spent the autumn in Camulodunum with Osric, asked: ‘Riches? Where? Egbert told me that Wlensling found new lands to plunder but I for one thought the woods ran on for ever in this part of Britannia.’
At the mention of Egbert’s name, there was a whisper of covert conversation and some sniggering in the room. Word had it that Osric’s trusted Gedriht had lost his way in the forest and returned empty handed without his men—a source of mirth amongst the many who were glad to see him take a fall. Egbert glared around him, seeking the source of the mockery, but his perusal was met with silence and suppressed smiles.
‘No, much of the forest is long gone from this island,’ said Osric, ignoring the distraction. ‘This particular wilderness survives because the clay soil here is too tough for the plough. As you’ve no doubt heard, renegades have taken to the forest. But listen to this: Wlensling and a raiding party found untouched villages on the other side; villages ripe for plunder. Purses of gold are being traded for slaves on the continent, and, believe me, there are plenty of slaves where we’re going.’
‘What of these renegades?’ asked Alfred. ‘I hear some resistance was met, and this accounted for several of our men. It seems we’ll have an army of angry Britons to face if we follow you.’
‘The story has been exaggerated,’ said Osric, his tone impatient as he angrily glanced at Egbert. ‘…as is the way when tales are told and retold. Egbert tells me now that most of the men died in accidents—one man killed by a bear, no less.’
‘But some resistance was met in the forest, was it not?’ asked Bealdwine, who was a vicious-looking, hooked nosed man, renowned for his skilful tracking. ‘Accidents didn’t account for all of the deaths, surely. A lot of men who normally ride with you are not in this room; that tells its own tale.’
Osric waved away Bealdwine’s concern. ‘Yes, yes, of course there was some fighting in the woods, but that’s usual on every campaign. A small cowardly force hid like women then pounced behind the backs of our brave warriors. They’ll not trouble a party such as the one that will ride in the spring. You yourself are an experienced outrider. You’ll scout ahead and make sure nothing happens to…’
The discussion continued, long through the night, and when morning came a body of fifty men had agreed to ride with Osric into the forest.
CHAPTER TWENTY- FIVE
Arthur rode his chestnut mare down the grassy knoll towards the thick dry-stone wall that ran in a lofty, unbroken loop around his stronghold. The fortification sat upon a multi-bank earthwork which had been constructed by the Brython people a millennium earlier. Gherwan, the warrior, stood by the wall talking to an artisan whose task was the ongoing maintenance of the walls and buildings within the protectorate.
Arthur reined his mount to a halt and deftly dismounted. ‘How goes it Gherwan? Robert?’
‘Usual rotting on the ropes around this timber buttress,’ said Robert. ‘The freeze and the thaw have left us with plenty to do. All finished here now though—this one should be good for another couple of years.’
Arthur appraised Robert’s work. ‘You and your workers do a good job. We owe the safety of this place to you.’
‘It keeps us busy that’s for sure.’ Robert looked along the wall. In the distance, another man was working at the next buttress. ‘I’ll take my leave, my lord. There’s more work for me to do before I rest my bones today.’
Arthur bade Robert his leave and turned to Gherwan. ‘How goes it beyond the wall?’
‘Quiet times for now,’ said Gherwan. ‘They know better than to attack Brythonfort or the lands around it.’
Arthur frowned as he mused over recent happenings. ‘Yes, quiet times for now, but we can’t allow ourselves to believe the threat is over.’
Both men looked around at the formidable wall which was enhanced every two hundred paces by high wooden watchtowers. An impressive timber hall stood at the highest point of the earthworks. Between the hall and drystone curtain wall was an assortment of rustic huts, stables, armouries and workshops—these dotted at intervals over the wide grassy slopes.
Most of the peasant inhabitants of Brythonfort had arrived seeking sanctuary from invasion, and some had taken up permanent sanctuary there. They farmed land around the fort, providing food for its population. A weekly market held outside the gates ensured a steady flow of people and goods to the fort.
The son of a wealthy landowner, Arthur had possessed the leisure as a youth to become skilled in the use of sword and saddle. It had been the steady flow of the raiders from across the Mare Germanicum which had finally led Arthur to offer his services to Rome. Before taking the stewardship of Brythonfort, he had ridden for twenty years with the Romans, first as a tracker and scout, then as a knight when his formidable performance in battle was recognised. He had come to accept the stability and protection that Rome had given to Britannia, having seen how his folk had lived in peace under their later rule. He had fought many battles beside them since; and always his opponents were the Angle, Saxon and Jute invaders. In gratitude for his deeds, Rome had bequeathed the mound of Brythonfort and the surrounding lands to him on his acquittal from the legions. Along with many of the discharged knights who had rode alongside him, he had immediately set to work to fortify the bastion, transforming it from a formidable earthwork to a truly impregnable hill fort. The recent departure of the Romans from Britannia had further increased the importance of the safe haven of Brythonfort.
A force of over two hundred well-armed men now kept the surrounding lands empty of invaders, allowing the farmers to produce grain and meat for themselves and for the tables of Brythonfort.
‘They avoid us and pick easier, softer, options,’ said Arthur as he averted his gaze from his stronghold. ‘Scouts tell me they head past us northwards to lands undefended.’
‘Yes and even travel through the rough land of the vast eastern forest rather than risk confrontation in the cleared areas,’ said Gherwan. ‘A man I spoke to at the market—a merchant from Aebbeduna, who’s visiting his cousin here—told me that lingering clouds of smoke rise from the nearby wildwoods as they destroy the cleared homesteads within and take our folk to the slave markets. He fears the town will not last the coming summer.’
‘Yes, they leave us alone for now,’ said Arthur, ‘but I worry that they’ll turn their attention to us sooner or late
r. Probably after they’ve taken the rest of our land, and at the speed they’re moving that won’t be long. We need to watch them. That’s why I sought you out today. I’d like you to set forth when the ground dries out.’
‘I’ll be more than glad to get back in the saddle and take a look around our splendid isle again,’ said Gherwan. ‘Is this to be a prolonged campaign?’
‘No, just six men, I thought. Well armed and fleet. We need to know what our enemy’s up to; we can’t let ourselves get too comfortable. Take Will—he is a good tracker; also Erec from the academy who works well with him. The other three, I’ll leave to you. Avoid skirmishing with the enemy if you can, this is only a spying mission.’
Gherwan looked towards the east. ‘They stay away from the main tracks and raid where the land is rough. That’s where I’ll look first.’
CHAPTER TWENTY- SIX
When the thaw came, Brinley thanked the good sense of his ancestors for building the village on a small hill above the flood level. The flood was extreme and slow to abate due to the impervious, clay strata. Many lakes formed throughout the forest, turning parts of the woodland into swampland. Throughout this expanse, half-submerged, ancient trees emerged.
Dominic, not wishing the floods to curtail his hunting, had spent many days fashioning a canoe from birch bark, and along with Tomas now paddled into the flooded forest in search of game.
The skilful village carpenter, Gilbert, had made Tomas’ longbow from yew, and the boy had practiced repeatedly with it until his arms and shoulders had strengthened enough for him to use it with some skill. Dominic’s own bow was unique. When in the employ Rome, he had befriended an Egyptian auxiliary. The man had shown him how to make a composite bow from layers of wood and bone, bonded by fish glue. The resulting weapon was recurved, resulting in a bow that was smaller but superior in velocity and accuracy to any other weapon on the island.
Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Page 16
