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

by Atkinson, F J

  ‘I’ll leave tomorrow then?’

  ‘Yes, and take a hundred of your men with you. Go well-armed; you must have the capability to protect yourselves; you’re riding into hostile country. But do not daub yourselves in that brash, blue dye. Remember, we need to recruit them, not scare them shitless. Diarmait will go with you with a similar number of my men.’ He looked at Raedwald. ‘Ah, yes. I’ll get him cleaned up and provide him with decent livery.’ He turned to the door and gave a little smile as Almaith walked in. ‘And no doubt my good wife will check him from top to toe to make sure he’s fit for purpose before he leaves.’

  The next morning, Tomas watched as two hundred men left the ringfort and took the eastern road towards Corinium. It was the first significant movement since he had arrived, and set him in a trot towards the coppice where Nairn had his camp.

  As Tomas approached, Nairn knew his time to ride had come. Immediately, he was on his horse.

  ‘Two hundred men going eastwards. Probably an envoy; Hibernians and Votadini. Arthur needs to know, today,’ shouted Tomas as Nairn wheeled his horse towards Brythonfort.

  ‘And know he will,’ said Nairn as he took to the eastern track. ‘Thirty fast riders will see to that.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The final fast horse arrived at Brythonfort just before dusk. Arthur, who had been hungry for more information since Dominic had arrived days earlier with the news of the Hibernian and Votadini allegiance, had since taken to pacing the ramparts of Brythonfort. His woman, Heledd, was beside him, and shared his look of concern as the rider rushed through the gates of the bastion. The rider ran to Arthur while his horse, panting and slick with sweat, was led to stable.

  He addressed the king. ‘An envoy has left Guertepir’s, my lord; Hibernian and Votadini. Two hundred men. They travel eastwards; their road takes them towards Corinium. Further along the road will take them to Londinium.’

  ‘Londinium,’ mused Arthur, frowning. ‘Why would they go there, the place is falling to ruin.’ He grasped the rider by his shoulders, his eyes intense with urgency. ‘Do me one last service before you rest, and find Gherwan and ask him to call an assembly to the hall immediately.’

  Arthur turned to Heledd, his hand instinctively dropping onto his sword, Skullcleft, as the rider left them. ‘This doesn’t bode well,’ he said. ‘They’ll pass close to Aquae Sulis but it should be safe for now—two hundred riders will not trouble a fortified town. But why Londinium?’

  Heledd was thoughtful a moment. ‘Maybe the road to Londinium will take them past the town; towards another place ... Camulodunum perhaps.’

  Arthur’s face took on a grave cast. ‘That’s what I feared, also,’ he said. ‘Come, we must get to the hall.’

  Two hours later, the hall was full. As Arthur walked in with Heledd, the drone of conversation died to a hush. Arthur allowed Heledd to sit down, but he remained standing before his place at the table. He took in the three, huge round tables in the hall; all populated by formidable men. His captains, Flint, Gherwan and Erec, sat on his own table along with other high ranking knights. Similarly, men of mutual trade or interest had grouped together on their own tables. The artisan Robert sat with his team of craftsmen, including Simon from the eastern forest.

  Dominic, too, had his long-standing friends around him: Will the tracker; Augustus (who, like Erec, had returned from Aquae Sulis); Murdoc (who sat beside his woman, Martha); and Withred, who sat brooding and dark—intimidating even to Arthur. Also sat with them was the young monk, Ingle.

  Arthur looked over the impressive gathering, then began. ‘Oh, that I had six thousand men of your quality to call to arms on this day. Many of you know why we are here, so I will not go over it again. What I need from you now is your speedy action.’ He focused upon Dominic. ‘Dom, you have seen the two armies when they passed you by. What was your count?’

  The heat in the hall had risen as the fire in the iron brazier had begun to dance. Dominic, sweating now, took off his wolf hat and placed it on the table before him. He swiped a hand over his beaded face. ‘Two thousand or so went past me that day, seven hundred of them Votadini. I was at Guertepir’s ringfort last year as you know, and I reckon he has a standing army of two thousand men in his own right.’

  ‘And what of the Votadini? You say seven hundred of them went past. How many more—have you any idea?’

  Dominic gestured towards Ingle. ‘My friend here was in Deva when the Votadini arrived, and like all monks he can count. He tells me he stood on the walls and tallied their numbers.’

  Arthur turned his stern gaze towards Ingle. ‘How many, young monk?’ he asked.

  As all the room looked at him (a room full of people the likes of which he had never seen before), Ingle’s mouth suddenly felt like it was full of sand. He licked dry lips and began. ‘I counted fifteen hundred, my lord. The morning they arrived ... fifteen hundred was their number ... or there abouts. Later ... two days later, I think ... one thousand of them left the town. When I escaped from the place I travelled to Segontium to get a boat back to Hibernia, but the Votadini had left a force of men there to guard the port, so I continued southwards.’

  ‘How many men at the port?’ asked Arthur.

  ‘I would guess three hundred.’

  Arthur nodded as the numbers began to make sense to him. ‘Thus, leaving seven hundred to march south with Guertepir.’ He looked again to Dominic. ‘So that’s fifteen hundred Votadini that we know about. How many more could they muster do you think?’

  Dominic looked at the tabletop before him and tapped at it as he did a count in his head. ‘Not that many more,’ he said eventually. ‘He needs to guard Deva if he has relocated to the town as I suspect. So he needs to keep a goodly sized force based there permanently. Also, as we’ve just heard, he’s secured the port of Segontium, and will also need to garrison men there to hold it.’ He paused again, fingers to lips and brow wrinkled, as he did a final count. ‘Two thousand men would be my guess ... a similar force to Guertepir’s.’

  ‘So that’s four thousand men mobilized,’ said Arthur. ‘Two hundred of them now marching to Londinium ... and who knows? ... possibly Camulodunum after that.’

  A murmur of anxious conversation infused the hall as the significance of Arthur’s remark was absorbed. Gherwan, who sat beside Arthur, attempted to speak above the noise. Arthur held up his hand until the drone abated.

  He nodded for Gherwan to have his say. ‘Camulodunum,’ began Gherwan, ‘is a Saxon stronghold as we all know. You say that two hundred men now march along Akeman street?’

  ‘There or there abouts,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Too small a party to raid a town, we’ve established that, so why go to Camulodunum.’ After a moment’s contemplation, Gherwan looked at Arthur, his expression one of a dawning awareness.

  Arthur gave Gherwan a nod of confirmation. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘My thoughts too. They go to Camulodunum to discuss a partnership with the Saxons.’

  The conversation in the hall now broke out with alacrity. Arthur allowed the tension its outlet whilst talking with Gherwan. After some moments, he banged on the table with his empty flagon, bringing the room to silence.

  He looked to Dominic. ‘I need you to prepare to leave in the morning. Take Will with you and follow the gathering to Londinium. If they go beyond the town and head northeast then they can only be going to Camulodunum and we know what that means. I need one of you to get back here with the news if they do head for Camulodunum. The other can follow them into the town, then follow them wherever they go after that. As soon as their intention becomes obvious, return to Brythonfort. Fast, fresh horses will be waiting on the roads between here and Camulodunum. We need to know where they intend to strike first.’

  ‘What will you do if they continue towards Camulodunum?’ asked Dominic.

  ‘More like what I will to do now,’ said Arthur. ‘We have four thousand men to contend with as it stands. What their numbers will be if they look for a deal with th
e Saxons I can only guess. Six ... seven thousand, maybe. What their intent is, we do not know, but we must be ready. First we must raise the levy.’

  ‘How many men will answer it and come to Brythonfort?’

  ‘A thousand if we’re lucky. ‘It’s winter and that’s in our favour; the men are not needed in the fields so they’ll be available.’

  ‘That gives us two hundred knights and a thousand men for a shieldwall—that’s still far too few.’

  ‘We need to get to Travena on the rocky shore southwest,’ said Gherwan. ‘If we are threatened then so is Ffodor and his trading stronghold.’

  ‘How many men can he provide?’ asked Dominic.

  Gherwan exchanged a telling look with Arthur. The exchange told Dominic that getting men from Ffodor would not be straightforward. ‘Four hundred cavalry, some of them charioteers,’ said Gherwan after a pause. ‘In addition he could levy maybe sixteen hundred men for the shields.

  Arthur nodded resignedly, his expression neutral. ‘We can but try,’ he said. He looked to Gherwan. ‘You must leave tomorrow and travel to Travena; Ffodor has respect for you and may see sense on this.’

  Withred spoke now, breaking his silence. ‘That gives us barely three thousand men, although you seem unsure if this Ffodor will come to the cause.’ He let his words hang awhile, hoping to promote an explanation from Arthur.

  Arthur gave a quick glance towards Flint, who shifted uncomfortably. ‘Let’s just say there are complications with Ffodor, but hopefully nothing which cannot be resolved under the circumstances.’

  Withred sensed that Arthur was holding something back, but now was not the time to press him. ‘Even if these complications as you call them are resolved,’ continued Withred, ‘then we will still have just three thousand men against six thousand or possibly more. Are there no more tribes to the north who will help you?’

  ‘There are Silures, Dubunni, Atribates,’ said Arthur, ‘but all have trade connections with Guertepir who controls the port.’

  ‘So Ffodor is your only option then?’

  ‘No, there are the Cornovii further west still, but they are a mysterious folk who keep themselves to themselves; they cannot be counted upon.’

  Withred looked to Augustus who sat beside him. Augustus’ nod to him—put it forward Withred; now’s the time—was all the endorsement he needed.

  ‘I can help ... I think,’ said Withred. ‘I may be able to get more men to fight for our cause.’

  ‘More men ... from where?’ queried Arthur.

  ‘From my homeland ... from Angeln. There are many who wish to leave the bog and forest there; many still who would welcome new land.’

  An extraordinary expression, half scepticism, half surprise, came to Arthur’s face upon hearing Withred’s proposal. ‘You’re suggesting we invite raiders to Britannia? Men who would take British villages by force and enslave its people?’

  ‘Except that the people I bring over would be men who until now have resisted the lure of the campaign. We could offer them the prize they desire the most: we could offer them land.’

  ‘But I have no land to offer.’ said Arthur perplexed. ‘Apart from the most unforgiving wilderness, all the land around here is settled and under the plough. What empty land there is—the lands of the Levels—is unpeopled and for a reason: it’s flooded for most of the year.’

  ‘You are forgetting about the territory above the wall,’ said Withred. ‘Dominic tells me, the Votadini who march with Guertepir come from above the wall.’ He cast a quick glance towards Ingle. ‘And Ingle reckons they intended to settle in Deva and forsake their northern lands.’

  ‘And so they’ll leave fields and pastures ready to settle above the wall,’ said Arthur, as Withred’s proposal started to make sense to him. ‘But why would they want such land if the Votadini are so eager to leave it?’

  ‘Because all land is coveted on this isle,’ said Withred. ‘Especially empty land that can be colonised quickly.’

  ‘So you would go to Angeln—you, a man who is seen as a traitor to his own people—and expect them to come over to the British cause?’

  ‘Yes, because they desire land above everything else. With respect, my lord, you do not understand what motivates the men of Angeln. They live in a land of floods and famine which even the Romans left alone.’

  Arthur looked to Gherwan. ‘Help me out here. What do you think of this?’

  ‘That we are not in a position to refuse any help,’ said Gherwan simply. ‘If Guertepir’s force was to come at us now we would be finished, pure and simple.’

  Arthur sighed, resigned now, and turned back to Withred. ‘It seems that we have no choice but to give this a go. How long will it take for you to put this together?’

  ‘Providing I can get men to come over, then I could be there and back in thirty days.’

  Arthur seemed surprised. ‘So soon?’

  ‘Yes, twelve days or so to get from Brythonfort to Angeln, six days or so to recruit a force of men, then twelve days to get back here.’

  ‘And who would you take with you?’

  Withred looked towards Augustus. ‘I can think of no one better than this man to accompany me, if he would consent to the journey.’

  ‘Why not,’ said Augustus. ‘I dwelled for thirty-five years never venturing from my village and in the last two years I have crossed the breadth of this land twice. I might as well do it a third time, and sail the sea as well.’ He took in Withred’s swarthy visage; his shaven head; his chest-length beard; his glittering eyes. ‘And like I once said: my friend here would make Grendel shit its pants, so I am in safe hands.’

  ‘You don’t look like a man who needs a safe pair of hands,’ smiled Arthur as he appraised Augustus’ gigantic frame. ‘The sight of the pair of you would make a legion of Grendels shit their pants.’

  ‘Then we’ll leave at first light tomorrow,’ said Withred, his voice cutting through the ripple of laughter. ‘We have no time to waste on this.’

  ‘That’s it then ... All will have to leave tomorrow,’ said Arthur. ‘Dominic and Will to follow Guertepir’s group; Gherwan to Travena, and Gus and Withred to Angeln.’

  Now he turned his attention to Robert, Simon and the rest of the artisans who sat together nearby. ‘There’s much to do,’ he began. ‘If war indeed comes to us then we must meet it with brains as well as force. Sixty miles from here, near Calleva, there is a field where the Romans dumped their broken artillery—ballistae and the like— before they left our isle. The last time I was there, some eight years back, the field had grown through most of the weaponry and some of the wood had been taken from the field—probably to frame a hut or to use as firewood. Still, there may be enough machinery left to get an idea as to its construction. Robert—and Simon too if you’re up to it—I want you to travel to Calleva and find the field and glean what you can from whatever remains.’

  Emrys, Flint’s companion from the trip to Corinium, spoke now. ‘If I may, high lord ... I know of the field of which you speak. I come from a village near Calleva. As boys we played upon the weapons and fought many a battle there in our childlike way.’

  ‘Then you shall go with them, Emrys. You and a company of six knights can take the artisans straight to the site as well as protect them.’

  ‘Is our renovation of Aquae Sulis to be suspended, then?’

  ‘Not completely … a small team can continue for now. The town walls are finished and that’s something. I’ll send thirty knights to show a presence and boost the morale of those remaining at the town—they’re bound to have heard the recent news.’

  Robert looked dismayed. ‘You think they may attack the town, then? Attack Aquae Sulis?’

  ‘Who knows. One thing’s for sure, though: Guertepir loves to feast … loves to entertain; and he’s aware of Aquae Sulis; aware of its restored opulence. If he intends to make war, then Aquae Sulis would be a significant capture for him. It would also be an easier target than Brythonfort. He would serve to draw us
to him by taking the town.’ Arthur again turned to Dominic and Will. ‘It looks like you’re going to be saddle-sore before this plays out, fellows. As soon as one of you gets back here with the news that I fear you’ll carry, we need to be planning for the next occurrence. If I can indeed raise an army then I need to know where to send it.’

  He looked at Flint who sat beside Emrys. ‘As for you Flint, I want you to start the levy at first light tomorrow. I want as many men as possible here at the fort within six days so that Erec can start to show them the finer points of brute force.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Godwine and Hild were up to their knees in the cold waters of the Tamesa as they gathered their net towards them. On the shoreline lay Udela, their daughter, lost in her child’s game as she chattered away to the driftwood shards that had become her dolls.

  The previous year, the Saxon family had been gaunt and hollow-cheeked from impending starvation, but all that had changed when Augustus had arrived with the fishing net. Before his arrival, they had lived by scavenging the shoreline for anything they could use or barter. Pickings had become lean and the family had consequently suffered. Now, though, they could catch fish. Such was the richness of the Tamesa that they often had surplus to barter. In exchange, they procured firewood and utensils—items to make life more comfortable in their rough shack beside the city walls of Londinium. Now Hild was with child again and the future looked brighter for Godwine and his family.

  ‘I’ll take the weight of it now,’ said Godwine as the end of the net, ensnaring its one fish, came into view. ‘Just a small salmon this time, but that will do for today. Go and sit with Udela while I tidy the net away.’

  Hild slid her hand down Godwine’s arm as she left, her look leaving him in no doubt of her love. Smiling, he removed the parr, then threw it onto the rocky shoreline where it flopped and twisted its way back down to the water. Squealing, Udela jumped to her bare feet and ran to stop the parr’s liberation from the cooking fire.