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

by Atkinson, F J

  Augustus was off his pony at once. He removed the spades from the pack pony and threw them to his brothers who had dismounted along with him. ‘Let’s get damming and digging then,’ he said. ‘Show us what you’ve in mind and we’ll get the job done as quick as we can. How much time do we have?’

  ‘Time enough,’ said Dominic. ‘We move quicker than them, so they’re a good distance behind us, I guess.’

  Darga expressed scepticism at the plan. ‘We’ll lose time doing this and tire ourselves for the fighting. They can’t be that far behind us. They’ll catch us in the act. I say leave dam building to beavers. Surely we’d be better putting your other plans to action, and maybe fighting them directly.’

  Augustus, his patience with Darga now fully exhausted, exploded with rage. He threw a spade full of dirt over the youth, then threw the spade to the ground and stormed over.

  He raged at him. ‘Have you spent the entire winter with your bastard ears plugged with wax! Maybe it’d be better if you shut your mouth and picked up a shovel,’ He pointed to his own discarded shovel. ‘Or maybe I could just shove that shovel up your moaning arse, you—‘

  ‘Whoa!’ Murdoc stepped between them. ‘We’ve no time for this!’ he shouted. ‘Stop it now! We’re here to fight Saxons, not each other!’

  As Augustus turned away cursing, Darga spluttered and brushed the soil from his hair and clothing. Knowing the futility of taking on a glowering Augustus, he sulkily took the shovel thrust to him by Murdoc.

  The ponies were put to use. They dragged a fallen tree across the watercourse, partially stemming the flow of water. The tree, which had fallen during the gales of the year before, had upended roots and all. Floating debris carried by the lively flow now snagged on the clay-encrusted root ball, further improving its efficiency as a dam.

  Water still seeped through the barrier, but a backlog of muddy, leafy water began to flood across the track and fall back towards the hollow. The men began to dig a shallow trough ahead of it, creating a sluice to speed its progress until it reached the deep, clay basin.

  After completing the dig, the men stood admiring their work as the muddy pool began to fill. Darga was the exception; standing hunched and moody away from the group. As the valley filled with water they stepped back a distance.

  ‘We need to get away from here,’ said Murdoc. ‘We’ll be up to our bollocks in water if we hang around.’ Once beyond the pool, he looked to the heights above him. ‘Now we wait,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY- NINE

  After recovering Bealdwine’s headless body, a hush had befallen the raiders. Osric glared ahead. You’ll pay for this, wolf, he thought. Turning to his men he said: ‘Drag his body to the side of the track; we’ve no time to dispose of him in any other way.’

  ‘It would appear that the small, cowardly force you spoke of has struck again.’ The voice belonged to Alfred, the man who had questioned Osric on the matter of resistance when in the tavern in Camulodunum. He strode to the front of the assembly.

  ‘And cowards they are!’ Osric said. ‘Otherwise they would fight and face us.’ He gave the disillusioned Alfred a hard stare. ‘Anyway, Bealdwine’s death is a timely reminder and will put us on guard and keep us alert.’ Alfred looked unconvinced, causing Osric’s impatience to erupt. ‘WHAT?’ he shouted. ‘Do you expect to ride unchallenged on every campaign, man?’

  Alfred walked away from Osric. ‘No I’m prepared to die if needs be, but let it be a warrior’s death. I don’t wish to be left hanging like a rotting hare from a tree.’

  ‘Then get on your pony and follow me down the track!’ shouted Osric. He addressed the others who skulked by their ponies listening to the exchange. ‘And that goes for all of you. Mount up and follow me!’

  The next morning as they progressed, Egbert was lost in thought. Noticing this, Osric clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Cheer up swine-gut,’ he laughed, ‘you’ll be feasting and rutting before the summer arrives.’

  Egbert stared sullenly ahead. ‘We should reach the wolf’s lair today, and I would gladly sell my soul to hell if I could spend a week slowly torturing him.’

  ‘I can guess why you’re tense,’ said Osric, ‘but save the trouble of bartering your soul; that’s a lost cause, man.’

  ‘We must kill him soon,’ said Egbert, ignoring Osric’s observation. ‘He’s the inspiration behind their fight.’

  ‘We certainly won’t catch him in his lair,’ said Osric. ‘He is far to cunning for that.’

  It was mid-afternoon before they reached the clearing. Dominic had skilfully removed all signs of recent habitation, making the camp seem long abandoned.

  Osric rode into the square and looked around in admiration. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t hold this place, Egbert. It’s well sited and would have provisioned us well today.’

  ‘It may still do if they’ve left the cellars intact.’ He pointed towards the filled-in pit which had trapped the bear. ‘That’s where Hereward fell to the bear. We need to watch it from here on, they could have set more traps.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning, but I don’t need it,’ said Osric. ‘Don’t forget I’ve seen what he can do. I’ve no intention staying here any longer than we need to. We need to check out the cellar you told me about for supplies. If we keep our eyes skinned we should be safe.’ He turned and shouted to the men, who stood talking quietly and nervously nearby. ‘Four men over here, axes ready! The rest take watch around the camp.’

  Six of the younger Geoguth, eager to impress Osric and Egbert, stepped forward. Egbert pointed to the hut door. ‘In there, six of you if you must, but study the ground below your feet first, it’s likely a trap‘s been laid.’

  One of the men, a sinewy youth named Chad, fell to his belly and slowly snaked his way to the hut door, banging the ground before him with his fist. Six paces from the hut, his fist bounced as it hit the hide cover of the hidden pit.

  Wlensling smiled and walked over to Chad. He reached down, found the outer frame of the cover and dragged it from the cavity. ‘Well done,’ he said to the youth. ‘Just look what you’ve saved us from.’

  Egbert and Osric joined him at the rim. ‘By Woden’s stinking breath,’ breathed Osric, in awe of the spiked malevolence below. ‘He wouldn’t do such things if he knew how we’ll repay him and his followers for this.’ He looked towards the hut door … then at the six Geoguths. ‘Into the hut now!’ he shouted. ‘Remove anything of use from the cellar then get back here!’

  Chad led the others past the pit and through the door of the hut, entering its dark interior. He was the first to fall into the second pit. Due to the darkness, those following did not witness his plunge—Dominic’s last act having been to block the window opening and restrict the light. So they fell downwards with Chad, dropping five feet before hitting the spikes.

  Dominic had rightly guessed they would have been wary of the tactic of the pit and would find the first trap. He had then come up with the idea of digging a second hole in the gloom of the hut; his hope being that Saxon complacency might follow the first discovery.

  Osric and Wlensling stood astounded as they heard the rumpus from the hut. Egbert smashed at the hut’s window, allowing light to flood in and illuminate the ambush. Only three men were dead. Badly wounded, the others jerked and groaned, pierced through by the stakes.

  Egbert entered the threshold, still brandishing his ax. ‘Stand back!’ he shouted to the others. Appalled, he took in the tangle of flesh below him. He turned to Osric. The other nodded his assent and walked from the hut. ‘Make to leave!’ Osric roared to the men around the square. ‘Tether the six spare ponies together so they share the weight of the others.’

  A meaty hacking and screams of supplication came from the hut as Egbert dispatched the surviving men.

  Osric rode from the clearing in a mad gallop, furious now that his war band numbered just thirty-three men. When his rage was spent, he waited for the others to join him.

  Wlensling reached
him first. ‘You took a risk,’ he scolded. ‘Riding on ahead and alone. There could be Britons about.’

  Osric’s eyes flashed. ‘Why should we fear a few fugitives, what have things come to if we’re scared of an army of ragged peasants?’

  ‘They’ve sent eight of our men to Woden,’ Wlensling reminded him. ‘Maybe you should bear that in mind.’

  Osric sighed and looked to the ground. ‘See … hoof prints … at least we see signs of them at last. We’ll meet them before you know it, mark my words.’

  Osric’s hope proved futile and two further days passed without encounter. On the third day they entered a thickly wooded valley.

  Egbert peered along the valley and up the steep slopes. ‘A good place for an ambush is this,’ he said to Wlensling. ‘And not a place to spend the night, that’s for sure.’

  Osric joined them as they stopped to take in the scene, their ponies jittery in the oppressive atmosphere of the gorge. He looked up the valley and was about to speak when one of the outriders—a youth named Godrys who had gone on ahead—returned, breathless, with news. ‘The valley’s flooded further up, I tried to ford it but it’s too deep.’

  Osric exchanged a quizzical look with Egbert and Wlensling. ‘Come … let’s take a look,’ he said as he jabbed his pony into a trot.

  Ahead of them, a long narrow lake lapped against the side of the valley. Egbert grasped Osric’s shoulder and pointed ahead. In an elevated position across the lake, eight figures stood. When Osric’s main gathering reached him, the figures on the hill raised their bows and released two volleys.

  The Saxons were off their mounts in an instant and hit the ground for cover, some lying flat beneath their ponies. Three men were hit; two taking fatal wounds.

  ‘Anyone who carries a bow get to the front and return fire!’ shouted Osric. ‘Do not hide like women! If you possess a bow get to the front with me now!’

  Wlensling grabbed and shoved the archers forward. He checked the dead and injured. ‘Someone see to Cenhelm!’ he shouted above the clamour. He’s screaming like a stuck swine!’

  Osric, who was unpractised with the bow, inched his way forward, followed by just nine archers. As green as Osric, they nevertheless returned a flight of arrows back across the pool. Seeing this, Dominic’s group withdrew from range.

  Osric had positioned himself behind a clump of juniper. He shouted his archers forward. ‘Across the track all of you and hold our position!’

  Wlensling joined him. ‘We hit one of them,’ he said. ‘I saw a man go down as they retreated. He was hit, I swear it. Success at last.’

  Osric shrugged, unconvinced. ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said as he continued to stare up the track looking for movement, ‘but what I do know is that we’ve lost two more men and one to wounding. That’s a quarter, and we’ve still not reached the open land. And we still have to cross this lake. You’ve been through here before with Egbert, how deep is this hollow?’

  ‘Deep. We’ll have to swim if we’re to get across.’

  ‘This campaign seems cursed,’ rumbled Osric, ‘If we try that, we’ll be easy targets. Most of the men, me included, can’t swim anyway.’

  ‘Then let the ponies swim. The men will have to climb round the best they can. There’s trees on the sides they can hide behind if the arrows start to fly.’

  Osric scanned the valley sides ahead. ‘We’ve little choice other than go back and find a different route. Get the men ready to move forward.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Murdoc’s face turned ashen upon seeing Egbert. ‘It’s Egbert, damn him … he survived after all,’ was all he could manage to say.

  Darga’s confidence had grown as the track had quickly flooded. Now he felt secure behind the water, just as centuries later other men would feel safe behind the protection of a moat. He fumbled an arrow into his bowstring and was about to pull back when Dominic clamped his arm.

  ‘No, you wait till I give the call, what’s wrong with you man? I’ve told you more times than I care to remember, we don’t release at solitary targets, they’re too distant to hit individually from here. We’ve more chance if we shoot at the big group when they arrive.’

  Soon they came, and when they did, Dominic instructed his charges to let fly.

  As British arrows looped downwards into the valley, Dominic spotted their archers. ‘Watch out they’re returning fire!’ he shouted. ‘Retreat along the track and out of their range!’

  As they turned and ran, Murdoc noticed James stumble. James fell onto his belly just as Murdoc reached him. From his upper back, an arrow pulsed his racing heart’s rhythm.

  Augustus joined them, hefted James over his shoulder, then scurried with him beyond the range of fire as Saxon arrows landed randomly behind them.

  When clear of the killing zone Dominic examined James’ wound. His grave look to those surrounding him was telling. Turning back to James he said: ‘This has to come out; you can’t travel with it inside you; every twist and turn will put you in agony if we leave it in. How they hit you, I don’t know; they’re not archers, that’s for sure.’

  James, on his stomach, twisted his head to see Dominic. ‘Do it then,’ he whispered. ‘Get rid of it.’ Dominic hitched his breath, grimaced and closed his hand on the arrow.

  When it left him, James gasped. Dark blood pulsated outwards. Augustus took James in his thick arms, turned him over and cradled him. ‘I’ll have you tied to a pony in no time like a sack of flour,’ he said. ‘Then we—’

  James shook his head, silencing him. Pale and weak, his voice barely a whisper, he spoke to Augustus. ‘I’m too wounded for that, you must leave me here to rest … I can’t … can’t go on.’ He drifted towards sleep and Augustus stroked the cold sweat from his brow. After some moments, James opened his eyes, his focus blurred and weak. ‘I came to punish them for killing Eidon … but not now,’ he whispered.

  Augustus’ laugh was dismissive but his tone desperate. ‘Of course you’ll punish them, man. Of course, you will. It’s just a pinprick. Come, let’s get you back on your feet.’

  But James did not respond and Augustus thought him asleep again. Moments passed until James stirred. Again, he managed words but they were his last. ‘Promise me … promise me … you’ll …’ He fell to silence as death came to him.

  Augustus was baffled, stunned. Gently, he shook him, but James was loose, lifeless. ‘Of course I’ll finish it for you,’ said Augustus as he rocked James harder now. His tears had begun to flow freely. ‘But you may yet do it yourself. Wake up, there’s much to do … stay awake for me please.’

  It was the first favour James had ever denied him. Augustus continued to hug his body, his own hefty frame convulsing with sobs. He looked to the others, his eyes bleak and desperate. ‘Such a gentle man. He passed from life to death so quickly, how can that be?’

  They had no answer for Augustus … could only stand with heads bowed as they wept. After a while, Samuel went to Augustus and bade him place James on the ground.

  Augustus stood and Dominic spoke to him. ‘I’m sorry Gus, but we don’t have time. They’ll be upon us if we hang around here. We’ll hide him and return when we get through this. That’s my pledge to you.’

  Murdoc came to them as William and John took James’ body to the side of the track. ‘They’ve started to cross the water,’ he said quietly. ‘They’ve climbed onto the banking. We’ve no fear from their archers for now.’

  Dominic immediately readied his bow. ‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘This is why we flooded the valley! Let’s get at the bastards! Let’s do it for James!’

  As they reached the rise, they saw the raiders struggling to cross towards them. The dismounted men had climbed onto the precipitous valley sides and had begun to thread their way through the trees. Attached by ropes to their ponies, thus adding to the difficulty of the traverse, they coerced the skittish beasts through the deep pool. Some of the ponies attempted to haul themselves onto the steep banking, but their effor
ts proved futile and they slid back into the water, adding to the confusion and entanglement. Two men fell into the pool with them. They floundered in the swirling murk and took mouthfuls of water, then sank into the deeps.

  ‘Send them to their Gods,’ said Dominic, dispassionately.

  Darga’s bravado had departed him with the death of James. He was skittish as he looked towards the flooding. ‘Would it not be better to go? We’ve delayed them enough—they can’t be more than fifty paces away. Surely, we need to be further ahead than this.’

  Augustus, with bowstring stretched to his nose, positively snarled at him ‘No, we press our advantage! Bugger off if you’ve got no stomach for the fight!’

  Darga stayed, though at the rear.

  They began their attack. Dominic as the seasoned hunter quickly hit three men. These fell into the water to join the two who already lay on the bottom of the pool. Murdoc and William also had a kill each. It caused the Saxons to halt and seek cover behind the precariously rooted trees. Many of the ponies, now unfettered, returned to the far banking where, whinnying and shaking their heads, they waited for their masters to return.

  ‘I saw Egbert again,’ shouted Murdoc, ‘but he hung back with his leader, out of range, then hid as soon as the arrows started to fly.’

  ‘It’s no accident he’s survived so long,’ said Dominic, as he sighted his bow around the trees looking for him. After a while, he looked towards the sun as it dipped below the tree line. ‘Night’s near and we’ve killed all we can for now. They’ll not just stand waiting for us to hit them, there’s no chance of that. They pray for for darkness. We need to use what’s left of the day to put distance between us and them, then tomorrow we can get ready to go at them again deeper into the woods.‘

  ‘It looks like Darga’s already gone,’ said Augustus. ‘His pony’s missing and so is he.’