One hour later, a hushed gathering assembled in a stone cellar in the bowels of the town. Foggy breath and an air of disquiet infused the damp torch-lit vault as Erec unlocked a small steel portcullis. Revealed, was a low passage twenty strides in length. Cardew walked down it towards an identical portcullis set into the outer wall.
In hushed tones, Erec addressed the crowd. ‘Once through the next gate you will be outside. Morcant’—he gestured toward a felt-hatted artisan who stood beside him—‘built this basement and he knows where to go when leaving it. Follow him and Cardew and do not lag behind. Keep perfectly quiet and communicate by touch only. Once you are across the rough ground take the southern road away from here and walk through the night. Tomorrow you are to hide in the woods until dark. Another night’s march will get you to within sight of Brythonfort. May Fortuna watch over you all.’
As people filed by and took to the passage, Erec gave them his encouragement and farewell. Morgana was the last in line. The infant slept in her arms. Erec’s gentle embrace encompassed them both, whilst Morgana’s tremble evidenced her apprehension.
‘Remember, keep walking until you are well away from town,’ Erec said. Morgana was weeping quietly. Erec attempted to bolster her. ‘Hey … hey now … this will be over soon; keep that in mind. Spring is almost here—a time for walking in the meadows under a warm sun.’
Morgana sniffled and tried a smile. ‘Aye … a time to eat bread and cheese beside the Afon River while Girard runs his energy away.’
Erec took Morgana’s face in his hands and tenderly kissed her tears away. Finally, he had to let her go. ‘They are ready, Morgana, now we must part.’
Morgana gave one final whisper into Erec’s ear. ‘Stay safe—please stay safe. This world means nothing to me without you and my baby in it.’ They kissed again, then Erec walked Morgana down the walkway to join those who were anxious to leave.
Cardew doused his torch, unlocked the outer gate, and strode outside. Rowan trees grew close to the walls, hiding the ingress. The faint moonlight cast an ethereal glow upon them. Cardew walked from the opening with Morcant and they took tentative steps down the dry gravel streambed that wound between the trees. Satisfied they were unseen, they turned to Erec who stood at the gate. Cardew gave his signal and Erec silently ushered the townsfolk outside.
Cardew addressed them with hushed tones as soon as they neared him. ‘Follow Morcant and me. We’ll take you along through the trees and up to a path. Don’t lose sight of us or make the slightest noise. Move up to the road, then follow Morcant and do as he says.’
Aided by the glow of a half moon, they turned and led the company down the winding streambed as it snaked between the trees. Soon they came to a thin path and followed it until the Southern road to Brythonfort was before them.
Erec joined the refugees from behind and was immediately alert, his senses prickling. ‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear it?’
Cardew and Morcant were stock-still. After a moment Cardew said: ‘No. Nothing. Must’ve been a fox or a badger.’
Morcant agreed with Cardew. ‘Me neither; could’ve been animals, the wind … anything.’
Uneasy now, Cardew darted quick glances around him. Satisfied that nothing lurked, he settled his gaze upon the hollow where the others waited. He whispered urgently to Erec. ‘We need to move them on. Our job’s done here.’
Erec beckoned to the refugees. They had barely moved when a horse snorted. ‘BACK TO THE GATES!’ His shout was sudden and decisive but the townsfolk froze where they stood.
From a deep ditch beside the road, a rider emerged. Ten more followed. The ditch opposite yielded yet twenty more. Abloyc fronted them. Behind him, his troop formed a semi-circle, cutting off the road in both directions. The creak of stretched yew signalled the drawing of bowstrings as a score of archers joined the mounted men.
‘Go back to the gate, your escape has failed!’ shouted Abloyc. He heeled his horse towards Erec and Cardew who now wielded their swords. He held out his hand. ‘Keys to the hidden gates … NOW!’ Erec, who held them, hesitated. He considered going for Abloyc. ‘Keys and lay down your arms,’ repeated the Votadini captain as he pointed towards the townsfolk. ‘Or would you prefer that the city stands rather than these people?’
Desperate now, Erec spun as he sought a solution. Cardew looked past the Votadini horde, down to the southern road as if Arthur would suddenly appear and save the night. Both came to a quick decision: escape was impossible and fighting not an option. If they resisted, Abloyc and his men would slaughter them all.
Without preamble, Erec surrendered the keys and threw his sword to the ground. He prepared himself for immediate death. When it did not come, he turned towards the terrified shadowy crowd. He sought out Morgana and Girard. If he were to die, he would die beside them.
Yet Abloyc’s words were to give him hope. ‘Both of you, back through the siege hole. Tell your guards on the wall to open the front gates and yield their weapons. Do this and we will allow these people to pass.’
‘And what of my men?’ asked Erec. ‘What will become of them?’
Abloyc shook his head, the gesture giving Erec and Cardew no hope now. ‘This is war,’ said Abloyc. ‘Men die in war.’
Knowing they walked to their own deaths, Erec and Cardew slid through the weeping crowd and headed back to the dry streambed. When Erec reached Morgana, she took hold of his arm. Near to panic she pleaded with him. ‘No … don’t go; there must be another way; talk to him; ask him for mercy.’
Girard had awoken by now and held out his arms. Erec touched the boy’s hair but knew Abloyc would not tolerate any delay. He looked towards the Votadini chief and saw he had already dispatched three men his way. ‘I’m sorry but this has to be done,’ he said. As Morgana’s shoulders shook, he spoke rapidly in his final moments with her. ‘I love you. Never forget that. Make sure Girard grows to be a good man. Tell him we will meet again in Elysium and there we’ll all laugh at this fleeting moment of mortality.’
The foot soldiers reached them and pulled Morgana’s desperate grip from Erec’s arm. Erec turned away, his tears coursing freely as he walked with Cardew towards the tunnel. Abloyc’s men followed until they reached the first gate. ‘On your way,’ said the nearest man as he shoved at Erec and Cardew, ‘… both of you.’ He locked the gate then returned to Abloyc.
Abloyc removed a purse from his belt. A tumble of coins fell onto the stone sets of the Roman road. A figure emerged from the shadows and scrabbled for them. Abloyc sneered at him. ‘Wretch,’ he spat. ‘Betrayer of your own folk, just because you were thrown out of town naked.’
As Hal scuttled away into the darkness, Abloyc gave his orders. ‘Change of plan,’ he shouted. ‘The woman and child who meant so much to the knight shall live. No doubt Guertepir will have sport with them and the knight.’ He turned to the nearest rider. ‘Get to our army before it enters the town. Tell them that Abloyc wishes the knight with the braided, blond hair and full beard to be spared for now.’ As the rider sped away, Abloyc turned to the murmuring crowd before him. ‘Pull out the woman and child and kill the rest,’ he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dominic and Murdoc had ridden through the night upon the lower eastern road towards Calleva. When morning came they took a short rest in a spinney beside the track.
‘You’re sure Gus and Withred will come this way?’ Murdoc asked.
‘Yes—Withred assured me he would sail to Londinium before taking Portway Road to Calleva. Then he would drop southwest onto this track and continue to Brythonfort.’
‘And the Saxon army?’
‘They’ll take Akeman Street, the higher road, to Corinium. That’s the road they know. From there they’ll head south to Aquae Sulis.’
‘So Withred sought to avoid crossing their path?’
‘Yes, he discussed it with Arthur; it makes sense when you think about it. Meet them on our terms when we are at full strength and not before. Withred needs to avoid th
em for now. That’s why he purposed to make landfall at Londinium and not Norwic.’
‘But the Saxons need to pass through Londinium as well. Surely the two forces could come together there.’
‘It’s risky, yes, but there’s not much that can be done about that. Once out of Londinium, our people will take Portway. The Saxons will take Akeman Street.’
Murdoc became alert. ‘Shh! Someone comes along the track.’
Dominic edged into the cover beside the road. Murdoc took the ponies deeper into the copse and out of sight.
Pulled by an ox, a wagon creaked towards them. Sat on the wain’s high seat were Simon and Robert. Beside them rode Emrys with six other knights.’
Dominic stepped from his hiding place and stood out in full view. He watched as Emrys and the knights flinched and drew their weapons. ‘Too late … too late!’ he shouted. ‘You would have been ambushed and killed.’
Emrys’ smile broadened into a grin as he took in Dominic’s cocky stance and wolf hat. ‘Never,’ he said as he slid from his mount and went to Dominic. ‘You wouldn’t have had time to fart such was the speed of our response.’
Dismissively, Dominic laughed. ‘I don’t think so Emrys—look behind you.’ Emrys turned to see Murdoc, who had slipped quietly from cover and crept unheard behind them. He spear was pulled back and ready to throw. Dominic gave Emrys and the other knights a smug little smile. ‘Flanked you, we did’—he slid his hand across his throat in a cutting gesture—‘dead as corpses, the lot of you.’
Emrys smiled wryly. ‘Aye, that we would be. Don’t tell Arthur, though.’
Dominic shouted to the others. ‘A lesson learned, my friends, but well-met all the same!‘ He went to the wagon as Murdoc and the knights exchanged greetings.
Simon climbed down from his high seat and embraced Dominic. ‘As ever you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he said. ‘What news from Brythonfort?’
‘Forbidding news, Si, but that can wait till later.’ He peered up at the contents of the wagon. ‘I see you found some Roman stuff in the field at Calleva?’
‘Yes—bits of this and bits of that,’ said Robert who still sat on the wagon. ‘That’s the trouble, though, Dom … we found mere fragments. Bits of wood from ballistae and catapultas, bits of iron from bolt shooters. A written text on how to construct them would have been better, but of course that was never going to happen.’
‘D’you think you know enough now to build a ballista?’
‘We can but try.’ Robert jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards the debris in the back of the wagon. ‘For every piece we take back to study, there are at least ten missing parts. But who knows; some folk at Brythonfort, you included, have seen Roman artillery in action. What we don’t have here may be a memory to someone.’
Urgency meant the meeting was brief, and a little time later the Britons parted. Having learned of Guertepir’s sinister arrival with the Votadini at Aquae Sulis, Simon’s group had gone on their way with heavy hearts and a grim resolve.
Another day’s riding brought Dominic and Murdoc to Calleva. Like a smaller version of Londinium, the place was unkempt, abandoned and largely ignored by the Saxons. The pair decided to rest up for the night and entered the crumbling town. Beside a broken wall they set up a rough camp.
Dominic soon had a fire going and lay down beside it. ‘How’s Martha taking all of this?’ he asked.
Murdoc, who had been routing through his pack, became thoughtful and turned his gaze towards the hypnotic fire. ‘Not well, Dom. She worries about me, about what will happen to Ceola, about everything that could go wrong.’
The flames danced in his green eyes, a frown creasing his fine-boned face as he mulled over the multitude of possible outcomes of the coming war. Eventually, he turned his attention from the fire and regarded Dominic. ‘Yes she worries, but Christ Saviour I’m anxious too. That Saxons are possibly coming into this war has made me realise how they nearly took Ceola from me. Made me aware of how Martha would suffer a terrible fate in their hands.’
Thereupon a truth struck Murdoc. Dominic himself had someone he cared for if the rumours were to be believed. He attempted to draw Dominic out on the matter. ‘That’s the trouble, you see, when you love someone as much as I love Martha and Ceola all this seems far worse.’ He flicked a shrewd glance at Dominic who had nodded his agreement. ‘Sometimes I envy your independence. At least you’ve only yourself to worry about.’
They were both silent for a while then Dominic said: ‘No, you’re wrong actually. I do fret ... about everyone I know.’
Murdoc went for it. ‘Anyone in particular?’
Dominic gave him a curious little glance. ‘Tongues have been wagging, I see.’
Murdoc shrugged.
Capable of love but always fighting against it, Dominic nevertheless considered opening his heart to Murdoc. The man was his best friend and doubtless he would feel unburdened if he told him how he loved the very bones of Nila. How even on such a journey as this, his thoughts were always upon her. But he could not. Now was not the time. Besides, he had to respect Nila. Instead he said: ‘Don’t believe everything you hear Mur … like I said, I worry for all the people of Brythonfort—all of them.’
Murdoc knew he had pushed far enough and would get no more from him. He took his sleeping place beside the fire. ‘Yes, dark times, Dom,’ he said as he rolled into his blanket. ‘Oh, that the morning brings better news.’
The next day saw them leave the ruins of Calleva and take the old road called Portway towards Londinium. Mid-morning had barely passed when they heard the sounds of many men heading westwards towards them.
They were quickly off the road and into a ditch. The slow clatter of hooves upon stone and the whinnying of horses growing in intensity as they waited. As the first of the riders passed them by, Dominic parted the broom plant before him and chanced a look. After his appraisal, he withdrew his head and turned to Murdoc. ‘It’s them,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘It’s Withred and Gus. They’ve brought the Angles. Now we can return to Brythonfort and prepare for war.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Arthur’s men, as instructed by Erec and Cardew, had opened the gates of Aquae Sulis and discarded their weapons. Abloyc’s rider had arrived soon after and whispered into Guertepir’s ear. The Hibernian king then entered Aquae Sulis anticipating the slaying of the guards. Stripped, bound, and forced upon their knees, all thirty of them knelt before him. Abloyc and his detachment of executioners lingered nearby.
Guertepir smiled when noticing Erec’s imposing physique and countenance. He immediately had him removed from the line.
‘I have fabulous plans for you my British stallion,’ he said as he pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away from the impending executions.
Erec spat at him. ‘That to you and your plans!’ He made to go for Guertepir but was unable to shake free from the grasp of four of his guards. Unable to move anything but his head, he shoved it forward, pointing it towards the men awaiting execution. His carotid bulged like a knotted cord as he frothed with frustration. ‘Put me back with them,’ he spluttered. ‘Death has got to be better than looking at your poxed face.’
Guertepir wiped the spit from his eye. He walked to Erec and struck him in the mouth.
Erec grimaced then turned his glittering eyes back upon Guertepir who was shaking the sting from his bejeweled hand. He spat out a tooth as blood slicked down his chin, then gave a defiant laugh. ‘Ha ... ha, ha ... so that’s the best you’ve got is it? The best you can manage upon a restrained man?’
But Guertepir would not be drawn. Instead, he pointed to the doomed men. ‘Not the best, dear knight ... you are about to see something much better happen to them.’
Again Erec twisted in the grip of Guertepir’s men as Abloyc, who stood beside Guertepir, gave the signal for his executioners to move towards the bound knights.
Cardew raised his head and looked Erec in the eyes as the men approached. ‘Do not fear for me,’ he sho
uted. ‘I go to the sweet gardens where my ancestors wait.’ Cardew turned his attention to the man who had closed on him. ‘But for you it is hell, my friend.’
Unperturbed, Cardew’s slayer went to his task. ‘Lower your head and look at the earth,’ he snapped as he removed the gladius from his belt. Cardew flickered the man a disdainful glance then did as he bade. The thirty who faced their own executioners did the same.
‘Place your blades,’ shouted Abloyc.
Brave necks felt cold iron as sword tips were rested upon them.
Abloyc paused and relished the silence of the moment. The condemned men shook and it pleased him.
Erec, his voice filled with emotion, broke in. ‘Give the command you monster; what’s the matter with you; is it not enough that you send them to the afterlife?’
‘You do it,’ said Abloyc unexpectedly. ‘If you wish this to be over with, then you give the command. If not, then I’m happy to wait until they all shit themselves.’
‘That they will never do, even if you wait all day,’ said Erec, suddenly proud of his men. He paused a moment, knowing there was nothing he could do to save them. Not wishing them to linger, he gave his shout. ‘Do it … use your swords you murdering bastards! You heard your beast of a captain!’
The men turned to Abloyc for approval. He nodded and swords went through flesh.
Erec’s face twisted as his knights fell dead to the earth.
Abloyc grabbed Erec’s hair as his chin dropped to his chest, forcing him to look him in the eye. ‘That was but the beginning of the show,’ he hissed. ‘Next, you and your lovely wife are to provide entertainment for the main event.’
An hideous truth struck Erec then. He addressed Abloyc, his voice barely above an appalled whisper. ‘My wife and the others; you said you’d let them go. You have betrayed me.’ He huffed out a breath of self-recrimination. ‘How could I have been so foolish...’ He pierced Abloyc with a hateful glare. ‘But I didn’t know what a rat of a man you are.’ He started to shout now. ‘Where is my wife! Where is my boy! What have you done with them!’ Again he strained and made to break free and lunge at Abloyc, but again his efforts came to nothing. ‘Spare them; what danger are they!’ he sobbed as he was dragged away. ‘And why do I live? Take my life. Is that not enough for you?’
Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Page 72
