by Jacky Gray
Archer jumped as the next watch came up to relieve him. ‘Beorn. What in Hengist’ name are you doing here? You should be in bed, recovering. Do you want to open up the wound?’
‘No more than a scratch. So who can’t you kill? This Guaril monster? Someone needs to.’
‘You’re not wrong there. But I could not kill anyone in cold blood. In the heat of battle, that is different.’
‘Have you ever killed a man?’
‘Shhhh.’ He pointed over to the north-west, where the glow from the fire at the castle mill lit up the horizon. Beorn followed the line of his arm down to where a line of small lights marked the bridge. They flickered at irregular intervals as several shadows moved slowly across. The Renegates had obviously muffled the horses’ hooves with cloths to deaden the sounds across the wooden bridge.
‘Right, you know what to do. Wait until they’re closer; then light the beacon to alert the marshals.’ Archer whispered so his words would not carry the short distance, but his voice grew even huskier with emotion. ‘Then you must stay up here. I could not bear it if you were hit again; this time it would kill you. Promise me, on the life of your son.’
‘But I have no son.’
‘Not yet, and you never will have if you fight tonight. Promise me, Beorn.’
‘I promise.’
With a brief handclasp which turned into a bear hug, Archer crouched low and made his way across to the stairs. Before he reached it, a long blast on a horn announced the presence of Guaril’s men at the Trill mill warehouse. Even as he shouted, ‘Now Beorn,’ the flames fizzled up the primed rope and hit the treated kindling causing a small explosion which forced flying fire up five channels to the larger braziers which cast light over the whole area.
The other warehouse and both mill chimneys had been similarly rigged so instead of the cover of darkness for their stealthy throat-cutting activities, both bands of Renegates were forced into a fiery spotlight. When Archer reached the courtyard, his men were all out. The Renegates who turned to flee were cut off on all sides by the Aveburgh warriors to the north and Rattrick and Pitivo’s men to the south. One or two of them headed west, but the Isis was an effective boundary, its banks nicely swollen after a couple of days’ downpour.
The story was not the same at the Trill warehouse. The sounds carried across the few hundred paces to where the fighting was fierce and the opposing teams well matched in numbers and skills. Some kind of hold-up prevented the marshals and other warriors from the city getting through, so Archer directed all available men to go east and support Finn’s men there. Although less than two hundred paces to the other mill, they had to cross one of the two narrow bridges either side of Blackfriars mill. But Guaril had obviously thought this through, and only five men and two horses got across before the first bridge collapsed, dumping a horse and two men into the icy waters.
As they were pulled out, Archer sent the rest of the cavalry sixty paces downstream until the banks were close enough for the horses to jump. The infantry wasted several precious minutes checking the second bridge to find it too had several timbers sawn through. In a matter of minutes, a working party formed to remove solid planks from the broken bridge and shore up the second one. Archer cursed himself for not guessing this tactic. Sending the fastest runner across to warn them to check the bridge over the Trill mill stream, he realised he could do nothing more.
Galloping toward the south gate, he found Fletch and the marshals about to cross the bridge and diverted them straight to where they were needed most. Having instructed the men at the rear, he gave his horse, Diana, her head, catching up with the others as they pitched into the thick of the melee. Voices raised as each man gave the battle cry of their clan, and swords sang as they met metal. This was the last straw for the vastly outnumbered group. With all the fight knocked out of them, they surrendered.
Despite the delays at getting to the second site, the actual length of time the two forces were engaged was quite short, with no more than an hour from when Beorn lit the beacon to the end.
The casualties were minimal on all sides. Fletch sustained an arrow, but his pride was wounded more than his arm. Finn had taken several bruises, and a couple of small cuts; the most annoying one soaking a bandage round his thigh. Archer escaped with a few scratches he ignored – the most damage came when he pulled a shaft from Diana’s flank and cut his hand on the sharpened arrowhead. He counted several walking wounded, but no fatalities which put everyone in a good mood. The most the healers had to contend with were cuts, bruises and a few bloody noses.
Only when they began to restore order did the real damage surface. Both leaders, the most evil tyrants imaginable, had fled when the fighting started. Once Guaril’s men were all suitably restrained in the friary cells with triple guards, men from each faction were tasked with questioning the rest to try and piece together every movement of the missing men. The leaders and their seconds met in the old refectory where each reported their part in events. As he began the meeting with an initial overview, Archer’s hand tingled.
It soon emerged that Guaril was an excellent tactician, the plan every bit as elaborate as they’d surmised. A couple of pitfalls they’d not expected were the sabotage of the bridge and the disabling of the Southgate. Elegant in its simplicity, the gates had been stopped from opening by placing wedges of wood under the bottom edge. As the gates opened, the wedges jammed underneath and the harder they pushed, the tighter they jammed. It took a while to figure out what had happened and the first man to climb down received a Renegate arrow for his troubles. At first they thought it was a troop of archers, but the trapped men struggled to pinpoint any of their adversaries, none of their own shafts were hitting home.
Fletch worked out the arrows were being loosed in a sequence, and he timed his descent of the wall to coincide with the gap between sequences. Then he waited until the next one ended before darting out to discover the blocks. As he tried to free the third block, a barbed arrowhead put him out of action. With a rueful glance at his bandaged arm, Fletch continued his report. A single man with devices to fire arrows from different positions had kept them at bay. By the time more men scaled the walls, the saboteur was long gone.
Bitter resentment at being tricked filled Fletch’s words. ‘I’ll wager gold the lone archer was Guaril. It would appeal to him, picking people off like that.’
‘And it would mean by the time he reached the battle, it would be over one way or the other.’ Ryder’s grim face matched his tone.
Archer frowned. ‘You’re suggesting he’s a coward. Hereward, you’ve had more contact with him than any of us. Is it likely?’
‘Not only likely but I have no doubt. I saw a device such as you’re describing under his wagon. I never saw it in use, so I did not realise what it was for and I knew better than to ask questions.’
‘We all appreciate the courage of you and your men – and women. I understand he held some of them hostage, I’ve sent some men to look for them.’
‘Not marshals, I hope. They may not respond well.’
‘Beorn should be able to convince the hostages it’s safe to come into Oxford. Was one of them your nephew?’
‘No. Tamas is like the son I never had.’ The look on Hereward’s face reflected his fear for the boy. ‘What if Guaril doubled back to kill them?’ He started to rise, but Rattrick pulled him back down.
‘Don’t worry about that. When I heard the bastard disappeared, I sent Hunter and two men to track him down and they would have started at the camp. Your boy will be fine. I hear he stood up to Guaril like a champion.’
‘He was magnificent. Not so much as a tremble, even with a knife at his throat, drawing blood.’ He put his hand up to the scar on his cheek. ‘Thank you, my friend.’
‘Nothing is too much trouble for a boy like that. He’s Geraint’s closest friend.’
‘I’ve asked Beorn to bring them straight here but, in the meantime, we need to figure out where Edlyn has gone to as well.’ Arc
her could see the strain on Hereward after everything he’d endured, but they still had so much to do. ‘Kalen is on his way with Geraint and Siany to try and get a scent on either of them. Does anyone have another man as skilled as Rattrick’s Hunter?’
The chief of the marshals sent for a man guarding prisoners up at the castle. Ryder mentioned one of Pitivo’s elders, but his failing eyesight meant he would not be able to do much before dawn.
‘Anything is better than nothing. Send for him, he can work with the marshal. In the meantime, we need people at both camps searching their wagons for clues. The slightest thing might be important. We’ll take a short break; then look at any information your men have collected.’
But three things happened to turn the whole meeting on its head.
42 Edlyn’s Revenge
The timing could not have been better. At the instant Archer stopped talking, the door was flung open and Savannah burst into the room taking two short strides to throw herself not into Rattrick’s arms, but Hereward’s. After a brief hug, she turned to Rattrick whose face was slowly glowing redder and kissed him fully on the lips to the delight of all the men in the room. When she pulled away, Hereward said with a cheeky grin, ‘Where’s my kiss?’
She gave him a peck on the cheek and he pretended to swoon. Rattrick would not let go of her hand but Hereward took the other one and kissed it saying, ‘If he doesn’t jump the fire with you at Samhain, I shall give him some competition.’
Rattrick pulled her to him, pretending to snarl, and everyone laughed at the light-hearted entertainment, interrupted by another dramatic entrance as three wretched figures came through the door. Joelle and Goran supported their broken, bleeding son between them.
‘Tamas.’ The word was a harsh whisper as Hereward leapt forward and gently helped him into a chair, looking in anguish for an explanation. Savannah turned in horror; he didn’t look like that when she left the pack, forging ahead in her hurry to see for herself the two Renegate chiefs were unharmed.
‘He fell off the horse. Something happened and he collapsed. We were cantering quite fast and most of the horses managed to miss him, but …’ Joelle dissolved into tears as he pitched forward, revealing the bloody gash on his head.
Savannah took charge and Rattrick knew what she wanted, bringing a large pot of hot water and a table cloth which he tore into strips.
Archer cleared everyone away to give them some room, but Hereward insisted on staying, giving words of comfort and support to Joelle and Goran who both seemed slightly bewildered.
When Archer pointed this out to Savannah, she examined them with growing concern. She hurried out to the kitchen, returning with a potion which she asked them to drink straight down, then find a privy as it would make them sick. She helped the dazed boy to swallow the bitter drink and was ready with a bucket as he was violently sick. After the third application, she was satisfied no more of the drug poisoned his stomach and forced him to drink several beakers of water to try and flush his system as quickly as possible.
Savannah insisted on a cot being set up in the corner of the room so she could keep an eye on him during the rest of the meeting and no-one thought to object to the presence of a woman. She’d proven herself to be the equal of any man.
With the help of the scouts, they pieced together the sequence of events of the night. Alfwin, Edlyn and his men had forced the women and boys to ride down to Guaril’s camp where they’d been locked in two wagons with nothing but a skin of drugged water. Guaril had brought Savannah into his wagon and attempted to force her to reveal anything she knew about the Townies and their defences. But she refused to eat or drink anything, and she sensed the presence of his malevolent imp trying to weaken her resistance to Guaril’s mind-link. So she shut her mind and body down completely and did not wake until Fletch broke into the wagon.
The attacks on the first two warehouses had gone perfectly to plan, but the uneven distribution of the rebels and Guaril’s sabotage of the bridge and city gates had resulted in the extended fight at the fourth site. But not a single person from any of the factions could say what had become of Guaril, Edlyn or the imp, Alfwin. The only person who might have known was Goran, the only one of the infiltrators to go with Guaril’s men to Trill warehouse. But his water had been laced with the same poison as the other hostages, leaving him completely disoriented. He could not remember anything about the journey, let alone whether the leaders had ridden all the way to the warehouse.
The second thing which happened also had perfect timing. No sooner had Goran given his report, than the door opened to admit the enigmatic Hunter who filled in some of the blanks. His dog picked up Guaril’s scent from the clothes in his wagon and followed it from the camp across the east bridge following the Cherwell as it meandered west. The tracks parted there, with three sets heading up to the city walls. Following them round to the Southgate, Hunter saw where one man had put the blocks under the doors while the other two set up the arrow machines.
The two tracks which were not Guaril’s had gone back to the main group waiting in the trees. Here, the markings showed the pack going in for the attack, while two sets of hoof prints headed south, following the curve of the Isis and crossing at the Culham toll bridge.
‘But Guaril was not with them?’
‘No, he was the one firing the arrow machines at the Southgate, then his tracks disappear.’
‘You mean he could still be here?’ Finn leapt out of his seat as if to go and search.
‘No. I think he must have had a horse waiting under the bridge and ridden down between the two mills while you were all fixing Blackfriars bridge.’
‘I suppose it’s possible we might not have noticed him in all the confusion. But where did he go from there? Are there no more tracks?’
‘It took a while, but I found them eventually near Marcham. It seems clear where they are heading.’
Archer followed the two routes on a map of the area and the next stops were evident. ‘Wantage. Or possibly the Open Arms.’
‘Probably on their way to Aveburgh, if they know we’ve left it unprotected.’
Rattrick and Hereward jumped out of their seats immediately, their women and children were camped out in that area with very little protection.
Before they left the room, the door burst open and the holder of the third and final piece of the puzzle stumbled in.
‘Archer.’ Kalen gasped on the word and started choking. He was dripping wet and red faced.
Savannah produced a dry towel which he refused and a beaker of water which he did not, swallowing it down with a gasp. ‘You must get to Wantage straight away. Edlyn has Ganieda, Geraint and Siany. He threatens to start chopping off pieces of them every quarter hour if you’re not there by sunrise.’
‘Come on, let’s go.’
‘We’re with you.’
Every man in the room rose out of their seats, but Edlyn’s final condition was the worst. ‘No. If he’s not alone, he’ll kill them straight away.’
The sun would be rising in about an hour; the distance to Wantage was over thirteen miles. An almost impossible ride, but Finn’s stallion Orion was still fresh after such a short skirmish and equal to the task. Archer found it awkward on another man’s horse, but he knew his mare Diana would not manage the rough terrain after her injury. Although most of the other men were with him for the first mile or so, he had to push Orion to the limit of his abilities to make it in time, and they were not prepared to keep up the killer pace. The nightmare journey got worse as he approached the town and realised he would struggle to find the house where his mother was staying. He’d only been there once, so he prayed for something to guide him to the right paths.
When he saw the sign for The King’s Head inn, he knew he was close, but the first rays of the sun glinted on the shiny copper plant pots around the door. He yelled his frustration at the sun to wait one more minute. As if hearing his words, a cloud skittered across the sun so it could no longer be seen. Looking ar
ound wildly, he wished he’d asked for five, but then he saw the right house in the next street.
Throwing himself out of the saddle, he stumbled as sweat blurred his vision. The unlocked door opened under the onslaught of his hammering. Shouting names as he ran from room to room, he finally spotted his nemesis out of a bedroom window. Taking the stairs two at a time, he burst outside as Edlyn raised an axe. All he could see was the back of Ganieda’s head. It looked as though her hands were strapped to the table as he brought the axe down.
‘No-oo.’ He charged to knock the axe off its course, but it landed just in front of the table, on top of a log, neatly splitting it in two.
‘Of course that wouldn’t have been nearly so effective if you’d been a few minutes earlier. Or later.’
‘Where are Geraint and Siany?’
‘Somewhere safe. I don’t really know them, so they wouldn’t be as much fun to torture you with.’
Ganieda seemed calm and in no immediate danger, she was not, as he believed, strapped to the table, but he sensed something very odd about the whole situation. ‘So why did you drag me here, risking a horse’s life?’
‘Oh no, poor Apollo. No, wait. That was your old horse. What’s this one called, Zeus?’
‘It’s Orion and he’s not mine. I need to see to him, give him a drink and a rub down. Finn will not be pleased if he catches a chill’
‘Always the same with you warrior types. You put horses before people. Well you have a choice, go and sort out dear Orion, but then you might not be here when the sun breaks through that cloud.’ Edlyn pointed down the garden.
Archer raced toward the twin mounds of earth. The size of graves, each had a straw sticking out of the top. Scrabbling in the dirt with his bare hands, he took care not to move the straw. He uncovered a finely woven sackcloth and he could see the outline of blonde hair underneath. Siany. The other had dark hair, but they were both motionless and he realised they were under the power of some kind of drug, doubtless the same one which stopped Ganieda from moving. Glancing round, he saw no sign of her or her tormentor, and had to make a split-second decision. He heard a voice in his head as clearly as if she were talking to him. ‘Save them first, I’ll be fine.’
