by Sean Poage
In the space to Gawain’s right, Sandef was urinating on the side of the road.
“Today, finally, we may see an end to this drought of dullness,” Sandef said over his shoulder to Gawain.
“Your optimism is boundless,” Gawain yawned. “Arthur moves forward only to show his standard and to draw the enemy out.”
“That’s what he says,” Sandef replied, using his spear to vault back into his saddle. His nickname was “Angel Body”, because he was remarkably handsome, with the physique of a Greek athlete. “But he lusts for battle more than women. We’ll be killing Vesi soon.”
But it would not be that day. Bedwyr’s men overwhelmed and burnt the small outpost the Vesi had established on the road east of the town. Bedwyr had the enemy dead beheaded, and the trophies carried to Argentomo, where they were hurled at the gate by his nimblest riders. The gruesome taunt had the effect Bedwyr hoped for, as the Vesi poured from the city and proceeded to chase the Britons.
It was a delicate manoeuvre to entice the Vesi to continue the chase. The Britons had to show enough strength to bring out the entire garrison but not enough to intimidate the enemy. The Briton infantry were far enough away to keep the infantry of the Vesi from catching up that day, though they were constantly harassed by the Vesi cavalry. Most of the Vesi horsemen carried bows, which they shot from horseback to the surprise and consternation of the Britons. Whenever the Vesi came close enough to be a serious threat, the Britons would have to halt and turn about to face them. With their infantry struggling to catch up, the Vesi horsemen were unwilling to face the disciplined spears of the Britons, and Bedwyr would send his cavalry to chase them off.
It was a long, exhausting day, but manageable because, like Cei, Bedwyr had positioned men along the return route to relieve their tired comrades. By the end of the day, the Britons had managed to withdraw less than ten miles from Argentomo. Arthur and his guard had come within distant sight of the enemy, but he was not yet ready to engage.
That night, Arthur and Cei rode forward to meet with Bedwyr. The glow of watch fires twinkled in the distance, as clouds began to obliterate the stars and the thin, waxing moon. After the usual preliminary greetings and exchange of good-natured insults, wine was poured, and they set to business.
“I don’t believe Euric has sent his entire army against us,” Bedwyr said, getting straight to the point. “We’re not hard pressed, and they don’t seem to have more than an ala of horse.”
“Perhaps we didn’t show enough of our strength?” Cei suggested. “Euric may not have deemed it worth pursuing fully.”
“What might he be waiting for?” Menw mused, staring worriedly into the fire.
“Isn’t that something you should be able to tell me?” Arthur glowered, his mood uncharacteristically dark. Menw was Arthur’s chief advisor and seemed to have the answer to any question Arthur asked. “Your sources said he would be staging at Argentomo, did they not?”
“Yes, yes,” Menw nodded. “His army departed Lemovis six days ago. A thousand score on foot and several thousand on horse.”
“Large armies are always slow,” Bedwyr frowned. “Our scouts might have misjudged, and not all of Euric’s army had arrived.”
“Numbers are typically overestimated,” Cei said. “But he knows our strength and has abundant resources. If he’s holding back, there’s a reason.”
“He may intend to distract us and strike north at Aurelianis,” Menw suggested. “We may have overplayed our retreat.”
“I don’t think he’d risk the defeat of part of his force if it would leave his back exposed to us,” Arthur shook his head, drawing lines in the dirt with his knife. “We must test their resolve tomorrow and counterattack. If they’re serious, we should get a better sense of their numbers.”
“I could take a few of my best scouts to abduct one or two of their men,” Cyndelic offered. “The right questions with the appropriate pressure should tell us what Euric intends.”
“If anyone is capable of such a mission, it would be you,” Arthur chuckled. “But the only Vesi we’re likely to find in time are their sentries, and they’d know nothing.”
“So a counterattack it is,” Bedwyr smiled. “Shall we drive them straight back into Argentomo?” Arthur smiled, staring at the ground for a long moment, spinning his knife around its point.
“Let us see what tomorrow brings,” he finally responded. “Our strengths rest on mobility and discipline. We’d be channelled into an unfavourable position against greater numbers if we attempted to take the city while Euric holds it.”
Further details were discussed, and the leaders departed to their respective camps. Arthur had his camp set up close behind Bedwyr’s so that he could quickly respond the next day.
That day dawned somewhat warmer, but with grey skies and a damp wind from the west. Bedwyr found, as he had expected, that the Vesi foot soldiers had marched into the night to catch up with their cavalry. They had encamped in a ragged line beyond a small river less than a mile away.
Bedwyr had his men hurriedly break camp and begin marching eastwards along the road. It must have appeared to the enemy that the Britons had been surprised and unnerved to find the Vesi so close, and they hurried after the Britons.
For most of the day, the Britons moved steadily east along a stretch of the road that was closely bordered by marsh to either side, while the Vesi cavalry attempted to slow them and allow their infantry to engage. As the dull disk of the sun began descending through the clouds to the west, they had progressed no more than about four miles but were approaching higher, wooded ground.
After fording a shallow stream, Bedwyr had the men stop and form up in line of battle across a wide stretch of firm land. The Vesi halted in apparent indecision until they saw a large company of Britons marching west to reinforce Bedwyr’s men. Arthur wanted to give the impression of overconfidence. It appeared to have the desired effect, as the Vesi moved up beyond the stream, formed up and, for the first time, waited for the Britons to attack.
Arthur moved to within a few bowshots of the lines and observed the battle. It appeared that the infantry numbers were evenly matched, though the Britons had more cavalry. The Vesi horsemen waited behind the ranks of their spearmen, hampered by the difficult terrain to either side of the road. A pair of riders could be seen racing away to the west.
Bedwyr ensured that the initial charge was feeble, and the Vesi surged against the Britons with increased confidence, believing they faced weak opponents. But the Britons held, and the battle continued sporadically, the wounded and dead carried away between clashes.
After some time, Bedwyr had his men press forward, and the Vesi lines wavered, their commander sending cavalry to the weak spots. Shortly after, a column of enemy infantry appeared, marching to reinforce their comrades. It was time to continue the retreat.
Bedwyr had groups of men begin peeling off from the rear of his formations. A disordered withdrawal would be more convincing but would waste lives. Arthur led his heavy cavalry up to prevent an actual collapse as Bedwyr started pulling more men out. The mounted warriors pressed up against the thinning locations, stabbing with their long spears, over the heads of their fellows and into the faces of the enemy. The light and medium cavalry remained on the wings, dodging scattered flights of arrows that the Vesi cavalry haphazardly fired from extreme range. Gawain watched impatiently with the others as Arthur surveyed the melee from his saddle.
The conflict grew intense as the Vesi pressed their attack, sensing victory against the receding British ranks. But as they pushed onto the higher ground that the Britons had occupied, they found their sides unprotected by the marsh. Arthur launched his cavalry fully into the fray against the enemy flanks, bringing them to a panicked halt.
Bedwyr’s infantry were now able to withdraw and began hustling along the road as the Vesi commander tried to reorganise his troops against the waves of cav
alry attacks. Suddenly, Arthur rose up in his saddle, pointed his spear at the centre of the Vesi formation and roared, “By God’s hand, now!”
His horse leapt forward, and it was a testament to the discipline of his household guard that none missed a beat. A shout blasted forth as they spurred their mounts toward the enemy spearmen, their lance points dropping down to aim for standing men. Behind the first lines of riders and from the light and medium cavalry who were not engaged came a racket of shouts and the bellow of horns.
Arthur could sense the timing to initiate a charge like no other. The sudden noise and the sight of the onrushing mass of beast, rider and glittering steel had its intended effect on men already in a state of confusion. Panic erupted, some trying to find a way out of the path of the horses, others trying to push back through the lines. A few made futile attempts to rally their fellows.
The thrill of battle rushed through Gawain, intensifying his focus, merging with Keincaled, whose red ears pinned back against his head as he launched into such a dash that Gawain had to rein him in to avoid outpacing his line. From the corner of his right eye, he kept track of Arthur, in the centre of the charge and slightly ahead, four places down.
Arthur led his men as a warlord should, in the front and centre. His white cloak streamed behind, revealing his gilded scale armour and his famous sword, Caliburn, in its jewelled scabbard. His white shield bore the Chi-Rho in red, with an image of the Virgin painted inside the shield, above the handle. His dark steel helm was adorned only with scars of battle and a gold dragon crest. Behind Arthur, Tegyr carried the Dragon banner, a pole topped by a gold dragon’s head with an open mouth allowing the air streaming through to extend a red silk tail for several feet. The enemy would have no doubts about who this was.
Gawain focused on the enemy line, seconds away. There was no room to manoeuvre so there would be little choosing of targets and no swerving to avoid an opposing spear. Gawain identified the man he faced—a grim, heavy man with a bald head and reddish-blond beard, wearing a thickly padded leather breastplate. He looked determined to hold the line and bellowed encouragement and curses at his fellows. But they were beginning to scramble away as the oncoming charge shook the ground beneath them.
The man glanced over his shoulders to see the space clearing behind him. He began fidgeting and, as Gawain expected, he lost his nerve, dropped his spear and tried to protect himself with both hands on his shield. It did him no good.
Gawain and his fellows hit the disordered Vesi lines in a dreadful cacophony of shattered wood, ringing steel, rent flesh and terrified screams. Gawain’s spear struck the shield of his target, smashing the man down, snapping the point off and wrenching the shaft out of Gawain’s grasp. In the space of a breath after Keincaled crushed the hapless soldier, Gawain drew his sword and joined his comrades in slashing, stabbing and trampling the enemy ranks.
A rout loomed, but that was not what Arthur intended, and within a minute or so, Tegyr sounded a horn call that told the Britons to withdraw. Gawain and the others moved in closer to Arthur and shielded him as they cantered out of the carnage of their assault. A few had minor wounds, and Arthur’s cousin, Siawn, had lost his horse, so he rode out behind his brother, Moren, until they could bring up a replacement for him.
There was little threat at this point, as the Vesi commanders struggled to reorganise. A few of their horsemen approached to launch arrows at the Britons but fled from Bedwyr’s light cavalry.
“It appears Euric’s men do have serious intentions towards us,” Bedwyr called out, riding up to join Arthur. He was flushed with battle and grinning to both ears. Arthur, too, was animated and laughed in response.
“Your spearmen should be able to put some distance between themselves and the enemy,” Arthur responded. “I doubt the Vesi will be able to organise another attack before nightfall.”
“We have, what, six or seven miles left?” Bedwyr peered eastward. “We’ll pass Cei’s lines tomorrow, and he ought to be well rested to take over the game.”
“We should make the bridge tomorrow, before dusk,” Arthur nodded. “Our message should’ve reached Paulus by now. Even if they haven’t set out already, we should only have to hold for a few days.” He paused a moment, then called for Cyndelic.
“If Myrddin were here I’d have him turn me into a hawk and see what Euric is doing myself,” Arthur grinned. “Failing that, I must rely on your skills.”
“I will not fail you, my lord,” Cyndelic gave a short bow and jogged off.
The sun fell below the horizon as they camped beyond another shallow river, the leaders conferring, while the soldiers cared for their mounts and cleaned blood and filth from their kit. Late into the night a gentle, if persistent, rain began to fall, making conditions less comfortable and watch fires all but impossible.
The night passed uneventfully, and Bedwyr had the army up and moving early, making enough noise to sound like a poorly disciplined gaggle in retreat. The rain made it harder to see what each side was doing, but the rearguard spotted the Vesi’s mounted scouts often throughout the day.
This aided the Britons, as Bedwyr’s tired men were able to pass Cei’s troops without the Vesi realising that they were now following fresh soldiers. Cei’s men were able to respond vigorously to the few probing attacks attempted. Arthur now rode with Cei’s forces, as they continued the withdrawal.
It remained slow progress, however, and sunset approached when word came from Bedwyr that his men were across the bridge, still a mile away. As if on cue, Vesi horsemen appeared out of the rain, loosing a storm of arrows at Cei’s rearguard. The Britons stopped to form a shield wall to protect themselves as Arthur spurred back towards Cei, who was organising the defence. Gawain and the guard swept out to either side, unable to get ahead of him.
“Keep the men moving!” Arthur shouted to Cei, who was busy ordering troops to their places to either side of the road. “Push for the bridge! Let our cavalry deal with them!”
Cei nodded and began issuing new orders. His men peeled away in groups and ran along the road as Arthur led the cavalry against the Vesi. The Guard tightened around him as the light cavalry swept past on the verge to either side of the road. The channelling of the road through the flat marshlands made it easier for the Vesi archers to target them. Gawain raised his shield high as the arrows began falling.
The armour the men and their horses wore worked remarkably well. Gawain felt a few arrows skip off his body and others deflected from his mount’s armour. The light cavalry were not as well protected, and he saw a few men and horses lying in the mud or wounded and turning back towards the bridge. But almost as soon as the arrows began falling, they stopped as the Vesi horsemen turned and fled.
Immediately, Arthur called for the cavalry to turn back towards the bridge, dropping into a trot to allow the horses to catch their breath. They were allowed only a few minutes of calm before the Vesi returned and the arrows began to fall again. As before, Arthur called on his horsemen to turn and chase them off. This time, as the enemy cavalry disappeared into the rain, Gawain saw the first ranks of their spearmen hastening forward.
Thus began a game of charge and retreat between the cavalry of the Britons and the Vesi, with the enemy infantry hurrying forward, their flanks protected by the muck. It must have appeared to the Vesi that the Britons were making a final desperate push to escape to the bridge, and they wished to do as much damage as possible.
It was more exhausting for the Britons, as they were constantly on the charge or turning back. Arthur was protecting his infantry, but his cavalry were wearing down, and scattered losses were enraging the men. It was only Arthur’s iron will and the love of his men that kept them in order and held them back from a suicidal charge in pursuit of vengeance.
The rain eased, and a gap in the clouds on the horizon allowed the last rays of the setting sun to illuminate the final sprint. A wide swathe of dry ground rose fro
m the marshes for a stretch before the bridge.
Gwynn’s spearmen had formed up on the western side of the river to either side of the bridge. Arthur held back, allowing Cei’s troops to go on, goading the Vesi and inspiring his men. The last of Cei’s foot soldiers had crossed, and the light cavalry were following when the Vesi spearmen broke into a run, their archers firing over their heads.
It was a futile exercise, as they would not be able to close the distance before Arthur made it to the bridge. But as Arthur turned his troop towards their goal, an arrow slipped between the neck and face guards of Eidyol’s helm, and he tumbled to the ground. Gawain was closest to him, and despite the rain of arrows, he wheeled about and leapt off his horse, throwing his shield onto his back. He pulled Eidyol up and strained to get him to his horse, but the man’s legs would not hold his weight, and he coughed blood onto Gawain’s face as he tried to speak. The rest of the guard had turned about, and Sandef stopped and helped Gawain to lift him across his saddlebow. Gawain remounted as another took the reins of Eidyol’s horse, and they all sprinted for the bridge. They crossed in time for Gwynn’s nervous spearmen to close in and clog the centre of the bridge.
The Vesi commander drove his spearmen onto the bridge, into the Britons holding the eastern half, hoping to push through while the Britons were still disorganised. But the Vesi were wearied by their charge, while Gwynn’s men were rested and supported by their archers. The fighting was bitter, and bodies piled on the bridge or fell over the low kerb into the river below, but the Britons held until the enemy withdrew as the light faded from the western sky.
After moving a short distance beyond the bridge, Arthur was joined by Cei, Bedwyr and Gwynn to plan the defence. Gawain rushed to Eidyol, lying on the ground within a knot of men. He had passed beyond hope as Sandef crossed the bridge, leaving his friends grieving. Eidyol had entered Arthur’s service years before, after the king had secured his release from a rival’s prison. He would tell stories of past adventures that left the men immobilised with laughter. Arthur stepped into the circle, knelt and took Eidyol’s limp hand. His head bent in silent prayer, an unusual habit of his, and then he stood.
