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

by Atkinson, F J

  Tomas was careful to keep in time with Dominic’s oar as they knelt in the canoe looking for signs of life. They paddled towards a prominent green mound that Dominic recognised from the year before when the island had just been a tract of higher ground. He hoped the floods had forced many animals onto its elevated terrain.

  ‘We’ll paddle towards the land,’ he shouted over his shoulder to Tomas, ‘there may be deer or swine there.’

  They beached on the island, and Dominic and Tomas jumped from the canoe and dragged it clear of the water. Immediately, Dominic froze and placed a calloused finger to his lips. He beckoned Tomas to crouch low.

  Fifty paces away, a huge boar was nuzzling in the undergrowth, oblivious to the two hunters. ‘Keep absolutely still,’ whispered Dominic. ‘This one is for you to drop.’

  Tomas, his bow already nocked with an arrow, hardly dared breathe as he raised his arm. He was elated that Dominic had trusted him with a large important kill. Until then, he had only taken rabbits and squirrels. This was the first time he had been entrusted to release the first arrow at such a prized animal. Dominic had often teased him about his exploit with the bear in the tree house, and now he had the chance to prove to him that he was a worthy marksman. His demonstration to the villagers in the longhouse had been one of the high points of his winter, but he knew that the successful kill of such an animal would greatly surpass it.

  He took aim, the hide cord drawn to the side of his nose as he sighted down the arrow, but before he could allow the string to sing, the animal turned and spotted him. Its movement was enough to prevent the dart entering its vital organs. Instead, it slapped into its rump, setting it into a squealing run.

  Dominic patted Tomas on the shoulder, careful to encourage him. ‘Good lad,’ he said. ‘It turned at the wrong time, but your arrow will slow it down … don’t fret, we’ll still eat swine tonight.’ Tomas ran as quickly as he could behind Dominic as he gave chase. He noticed how Dominic was able to nock an arrow to his bow without breaking stride as he readied himself for his strike.

  Dominic’s chance came when they entered a bright part of the woods where the trees were widely spaced. He abruptly stopped, then took aim and released his arrow at the scuttling boar. From behind, Tomas watched the low curving blur of the projectile as it parted the air. The boar fell, crashing onto its side, before sliding through a pile of leaves. Tomas realised with amazement that Dominic’s strike had killed it outright.

  Even the pragmatic Dominic could not conceal his pride at the kill. Grinning, he said: ‘How’s that Tom; not a bad aim for an old man, eh?’

  Tomas could only look with admiration—first at the boar, then at Dominic—as they trotted towards the dead animal. Dominic noticed Tomas’ gape and broke into a laugh. He had to admit that he had attempted several times to bring down prey whilst running and had rarely been successful. The disclosure in no way diffused Tomas’ awe.

  The animal lay dead with the arrow stuck between its shoulder blades. As he stooped to gut and bind it, Dominic winked at Tomas. ‘Without your arrow slowing it down this fellow would be long gone by now. A good welcome will await us at the village when we turn up with this.’ Tomas bristled with pride at Dominic’s praise.

  Indeed, a salutation met them when they returned, and three hours after killing the boar the smell of pork drifted through the village.

  All entered the longhouse to share the meal, and after a high-spirited repast served with a good flow of ale, Brinley addressed the gathering.

  He stood and banged his empty flagon on the table for attention. ‘A fine feast after the meagre rations of the last few weeks, I think you’ll agree.’

  A murmur of approval went around the table, then spontaneous laughter as Augustus and his brothers shouted insults at Brinley.

  Taking it in his stride, Brinley smiled as he waited for the merriment to subside. When silence returned to the room, he continued. ‘Dominic and Tomas are the ones we need to thank for this spread, and it’s the counsel of Dominic that concerns us now. We both agree that the time for waiting in relative safety is over, but I’ll let him tell you more.’

  A hush fell as Dominic stood to address the assembly. ‘The time for action approaches,’ he said. ‘Along with my apprentice’—he nodded towards Tomas—‘I was afloat in the woods today as I have been every day since the snows melted. For weeks, the water’s been our friend; it’s delayed the raiders. Delayed, but never prevented it. The level’s fallen, and land that was under water last week now stands dry. Soon, the forest will be passable again. Withred tells me they’ll ride as soon as the floods recede. By my reckoning that’s already happened in the higher eastern part of the forest.’ Unease now pervaded the room as women picked up children and held them close. Dominic continued. ‘If they’re on the trail now, they could reach us here in as little as twelve days.’

  This time, anxious conversation positively erupted in the room.

  Darga, impetuous as ever, stood and shouted above the din. ‘If so then why do we sit here and feast! Surely we should be preparing to fight them!’

  ‘There was little we could do in the floods,’ said Dominic with some irritation. ‘This is the earliest we can act. Get your arse back on the seat and listen.’

  Dominic continued as Darga reluctantly complied. ‘Withred has plans for the defence of the village; the people he’s trained now know what’s expected of them. Force will be used if the forest party, led by me, fails. The men who ride with me into the woods must be ready by the day after tomorrow, by which time the water levels will have fallen enough to allow us through.’ He looked at Augustus and his brothers, at James, at Darga. ‘You have tomorrow to say your goodbyes.’

  Two days went by quickly and Dominic and his band prepared to leave. The village gathered around them, their faces anxious.

  Murdoc, Martha and Ceola said their farewells at the forest edge, a family now in every sense. With his daughter cradled close, and his arm around Martha, Murdoc’s tone was intense. ‘We don’t intend to fail, but promise me you’ll save yourself and Ceola if things go badly for us.’

  ‘I’ll do all I can,’ said Martha as she fought her tears. ‘I love this child as my own and I’ll do anything it takes to protect her. Whatever the cost she must survive this.’

  Murdoc stroked her face and shot a glance towards a resolute and determined-looking Dominic who stood talking with Augustus and his brothers. ‘I couldn’t be in better company,’ he said. ‘Those men are my shield.’

  Dominic looked over and noticed Ceola staring at his wolf hat again. He gave a low growl and pulled his face, causing the infant to giggle and hide her face in Dominic’s side.

  Murdoc smiled and handed Ceola to Martha, then kissed them both and climbed onto his pony. He waved his goodbye as he rode away, and saw that Martha hugged Ceola close, her face troubled and sad.

  Tomas had helped the others to prepare for the trip, but after much deliberation, Dominic had decided that the boy was not yet ready for the rigours of skirmishing warfare, but had bolstered him and assuaged his disappointment by telling him it would be better to ’leave a wolf in each camp.’

  They did their leave-taking on the edge of the wood, both splendid in their wolf hats. ‘Remember all that you’ve learned, lad,’ said Dominic. ‘You’ll be needed if we don’t succeed, and I’ve faith in you to protect the others if needs be.’

  Tomas swelled with pride at Dominic’s endorsement. ‘They’ll be safe with me,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure of that, but I know you’ll kill most of them anyway.’

  Dominic envied Tomas’ confidence, not feeling it himself at that moment. He smiled at the boy. ‘If this works I’ll give you a bow like mine when I get back. The way you’re filling out, you’ll have the strength to draw it before the year’s out.’

  Enthused, Tomas said: ‘Then make sure you do get back so we can hunt again.’

  Dominic mounted his pony and slapped Tomas on the shoulder. Then he waved to the other vil
lagers and followed Murdoc and the others into the deeper woods.

  Although the water level had fallen, the ground was still boggy, causing the ponies to labour through the sucking mud, but once past the deserted village they moved onto higher ground and the going became easier.

  Two days passed, without sign or sight of other souls. On the third day they came to the east-west track. Here, they were able to make quicker progress on its relatively even surface, where clear puddles provided the ponies with clear melt-water to drink.

  That night, talking quietly, Murdoc and Dominic sat apart from the other six men. Dominic looked tellingly at Murdoc. ‘I think we chose the men well,’ he said, ‘for the most part.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Murdoc, aware of Dominic’s intimation. ‘The giant, Augustus, is a stout and able man, as are his brothers. James too seems steady and able to travel without complaint, but, oh! … if I hear Darga bellyache once more about the conditions, I swear I’ll slap his pony’s arse and send it into a mad gallop.’

  ‘That’s if I don’t get there first,’ said Dominic. ‘Seriously though, I think we chose wrong with him. If he can’t stand the conditions on the trail, then how will he cope with the fighting when it comes?’

  ‘God only knows, but it’s too late to worry about that now. We can only hope he’ll surprise us.’

  A further four quiet days passed before the riders finally approached Dominic’s abandoned camp. The wolf man had ridden on ahead to make sure the place was unoccupied, and after scouting its perimeter was happy to find the surrounding woods empty of people. The ring of stones outside the hut still contained a blackened smudge where many fires had burned. Augustus and his brothers went to gather firewood.

  Dominic and Murdoc looked at the camp, which was seemingly undisturbed since their departure. ‘I never expected to see this place again,’ said Dominic,’ but I know now that my future doesn’t lie here.’ Murdoc studied him, knowing that their meeting in the forest last year had changed everything for him.

  Dominic said: ‘We need to put our plans to action now, and that starts here. The raiders will be here soon and we may be able to send some of them to Woden when they get here.’

  That night, the eight warmed themselves by the fire after eating a mundane supper of porridge. Augustus and his brothers amused the gathering by pulling their sturdy leather belts tight around their shrinking girths. ‘At this rate,’ joked Augustus, ‘my wife will think she’s bedding a slender youth when we return.’

  Dominic stood up in front of the lounging men as their laughter rang around the fire. The merriment faded as he addressed them.

  ‘It’s good that we’re in good spirits and so far our journey’s gone well. I didn’t expect to meet them yet, but by my reckoning they must be near. If Egbert and Cissa escaped then they’ll seek us out here before moving on, I’m sure of that. This is a natural stopping point on their journey through the woods so we must get away from here as soon as I get back from a scouting trip I’ve planned, because I’ve no intention of fighting them face to face. Withred was right when he warned us of the stupidity of doing that. Tomorrow, I’ll take Murdoc down the trail and search out the surrounding cover. I’ve a good idea where they should be by now, but it’s time we found out exactly where they are. We’ll be gone one day, two at the most.’

  Darga butted in. ‘Why take Murdoc? I’m more than capable of helping you in the woods, and I can’t wait to kill the first of them.’

  ‘No, Murdoc is proven and this is no place to train a new tracker,’ said Dominic dismissing Darga. He looked at Augustus. ‘How are you at digging, big lad? Could you and your brothers dig me a deep pit in the clearing by tomorrow evening?’

  Augustus smiled. ‘I wondered why we carried spades on this trip. You knew what you were doing when you employed us as workhorses, that’s for sure. Yes, of course we’ll dig your pit, but may I ask why?’

  ‘For them to fall into of course!’ his brother Samuel said with mock exasperation. ‘A trick used with some success before if the stories are to be believed.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the bear in the pit,’ said Augustus, as it dawned on him. ‘But where are we to find such a willing bear at such short notice for goodness sake?’

  ‘Ah, that’s where James and Darga help,’ said Dominic.

  Augustus exploded with laughter. ‘I don’t know about James,’ he chortled, ‘but put Darga in the pit and any Saxon who falls into it will soon throw himself upon his own spear in despair.’

  Augustus’ brothers laughed aloud with him, their baritone mirth echoing around the clearing. Darga reddened and was about to foolishly challenge Augustus, when a smiling Dominic signalled for them to be silent.

  ‘Don’t worry Darga,’ he said, ‘I don’t expect you and James to wait in the pit. But you can put some fangs into it for me.’

  ‘You talk in riddles,’ said Darga impatiently. ‘What do you mean put fangs into it?’

  Dominic sighed, his own patience strained. ‘Go into the forest,’ he said, pointing across the clearing. ‘You and James are to collect stout staves from it and sharpen them to a point. These you will place in the pit. Sharp fangs, don’t you agree, to pierce the hides of murderers?’

  ‘But wont they be wary of such a plan after last time?’ asked James.

  ‘If Egbert or Cissa made it back to the coast then the answer to your question must be yes,’ said Dominic. ‘We’ve nothing to lose, anyway. Maybe if Egbert’s in the raiding party he’ll expect to find an ambush pit, but that may play into our hands. This is what I have in mind …’

  The next morning Dominic and Murdoc left at first light and rode eastwards down the track. The day was uneventful and by mid-afternoon, they had covered a respectable distance. Dominic halted his pony, dismounted and examined the trail. Hoof prints led from it into the forest.

  ‘It looks like we have company,’ he said. ‘These are fresh prints from two ponies—outriders probably. We need to take care from now on.’

  For the rest of the day they rode alongside the track, mindful to remain hidden as they followed the newly found prints.

  Murdoc had kept his ploughshare spear, which he viewed as a symbol of his deliverance from the Saxons. Dominic had helped him to improve its efficiency and had expertly sharpened it, after which Murdoc had set it anew in a slender shaft of ash wood. Furthermore, Murdoc now carried a recurved bow similar to Dominic’s. Dominic had patiently built the bow during the cold, winter months.

  That night they lit no fire, and when morning came they again rode behind the cover beside the track. Dominic frequently dismounted and examined the ground. At mid-morning, he left Murdoc and walked back to the track, stooping at intervals to touch the forest floor.

  He returned some moments later, put a forefinger to his lips, and signalled Murdoc to dismount. ‘There’re two men scouting ahead, as trackers to the main party,’ he whispered. ‘One of them passed by this here recently and now he rides on the main trail. He can’t fail to find Gus and the others, and we can’t allow that to happen.’

  Murdoc followed Dominic as he ghosted through the head-high, brushwood. When he reached the track, Dominic stopped and pointed to a bank of hazel newly in leaf. ‘Wait in there,’ he instructed. ‘The other rider’s on his way. It’s time to get rid of him.’

  Murdoc concealed himself behind the bush as Dominic walked up the track and stood in full view of the approaching Saxon.

  The man was at first startled. Regaining his wits, he jumped off his pony and grabbed his war ax from its saddle. He ran at Dominic.

  Murdoc, hidden, allowed the man to run by, then stepped from behind the hazel and hurled his spear. The Saxon’s shoulder blade took the strike, the bone deflecting the missile from his vitals. He fell to his knees, still grasping his ax, as Murdoc’s spear fell to the leafy ground.

  From behind, Murdoc saw Dominic raise his bow. ‘Stand back!’ he shouted as the man struggled to rise to his knees. He released an arrow. It entered the man’s mo
uth, stifling his scream and ending his life.

  Dominic pulled the arrow free and wiped it on the grass. He replaced it in its quiver. ‘Half a morning’s work wasted if I’d left him with this,’ he said. He dragged the corpse into the bushes, then stood and darted a quick glance up and down the track. He turned to Murdoc, telling him: ‘Slap his pony’s rump and send it down the trail.’

  The pony responded to the whack and galloped away. After clearing the killing scene of all tell-tale signs, they led their mounts through the brush a distance.

  Murdoc was amazed at Dominic’s cold proficiency, but was alert again when he stopped dead and whispered to him. ‘Over there by the stream!’

  Twenty paces away, through a narrow gap in the shrubbery, Bealdwine, the tracker and formidable warrior, crouched as he took a drink from his cupped hands. Vigilant and primal, his narrow eyes flitted around the bower looking for movement.

  The two moved back, ensuring they were out of sight as Bealdwine, his instincts telling him to be wary, stood up sniffing the air like an animal.

  ‘This time I’ll break cover and let him see me,’ said Murdoc. ‘Then it’s up to you.’

  Nodding, Dominic nocked the same arrow. ‘Right, go now’ he whispered. Gently, he pushed Murdoc from the cover of the bush.

  Bealdwine saw Murdoc at once. In a blink, he flipped his hunting knife and threw it at Murdoc’s head.

  The Briton’s reflexes saved him, his raised arm receiving the knifepoint. Dominic’s arrow missed Bealdwine, who sped across the ground, his ax swinging in a practiced blur as he ran towards Murdoc.

  Now, Dominic exploded from cover, and was able to prevent Bealdwine burying his ax head into an incapacitated Murdoc. He slammed his palms into the Saxon’s chest, forcing him into a backwards stumble.

  The two faced each other, ax against sword. Bealdwine sneered and insolently flicked his tongue at Dominic as they circled. He continued to swing his ax about him, his intention to distract Dominic. Rapidly, he shimmied into killing distance and chopped down at Dominic’s skull. The Briton’s sword met the blow. Enraged, Bealdwine repeated the move, and again Dominic parried. A flurry of clangs resonated through the forest as strikes and counter strikes ensued.