by Simon Lister
Around them people were starting to eat the food that had been prepared on the fires.
‘‘Eat first’, every warrior’s creed,’ Merdynn snorted and leant back on the bank of the hollow with his hands resting on his empty stomach before adding, ‘and very sensible too. Talk of the devil...’
‘Talking about me, eh?’ Morgund said as he and Cael joined them.
‘It may surprise you to learn that the world does not turn about you. I was referring more to Cael actually,’ Merdynn said, watching Cael settle his considerable bulk down beside them.
‘Oh?’ Cael said, belching loudly.
‘Have you eaten already?’ Cei asked.
‘No point in hanging around – always best to get in first,’ Cael replied with an amused glance to Morgund.
Cei looked from one to the other, ‘A private joke?’
‘I should imagine it has something to do with Morgund’s cut lip, a certain woman from your war band Cei and an unhappy warrior at the Gates,’ Merdynn said with a sigh.
‘Well, he’s an unhappier warrior now,’ Morgund said, inspecting his bruised knuckles.
‘Was Leah involved?’ Cei asked.
Morgund nodded trying not to grin.
‘That woman’s nothing but trouble,’ Merdynn said.
‘Ha! You mean he’s nothing but trouble,’ Cael laughed as he hiked a thumb at Morgund beside him.
Arthur got to his feet and left them without saying a word. Morgund cringed and swore at Cael under his breath.
‘Hey, don’t blame me – you’re the one who gets himself in too deep.’
‘From what I hear you’re both as bad as each other – with any luck you and Leah will get married and that’ll solve a lot of problems,’ Cei said, enjoying the situation despite Arthur’s obvious displeasure at Morgund’s behaviour. Morgund just shuddered at the suggestion. Cei turned to Merdynn, ‘And talking about the world turning around Morgund, were you serious back at the council about summer and winter alternating back and forth so quickly?’
Merdynn looked at him inquisitively, ‘What made you bring that up now?’’
Cei shrugged, ‘I was thinking about what I said – how it’ll be a bright enough moon in a few days and it reminded me that I meant to ask you about that and see if you were talking seriously back in Caer Sulis.’
Merdynn drew a deep breath before replying. ‘Yes, I was serious. But it wasn’t winter and summer alternating quickly, it was night and day. The twenty-four hours we have to our day is based upon the time it used to take the sun to rise, travel across the sky, sink below the horizon and then rise again. Half the day was light, half was dark,’ Merdynn paused, wondering just how simple or complicated to make his explanation.
‘How could the sun move so quickly then?’ Cael asked.
Merdynn decided to make it as simple as possible. He took an apple from one of his pockets and began a lengthy but simple description of how the world rotated around the sun and how it used to spin on its own axis. When he finished he looked at the three of them expectantly, ‘Understand?’ he asked hopefully.
They all looked blankly at the circles Merdynn had made in the dirt. None of them met his eye. The silence lengthened.
‘Mind if I have that apple?’ Cael asked and took the apple from the ground where it had been representing the world. He brushed the dirt from it and took a huge bite from it.
Merdynn stared at him.
‘So, if I understand it properly,’ Morgund said, ‘then Cael just ate the world.’
Merdynn stared at him too.
‘Now that I can believe,’ Cei added.
Merdynn closed his eyes and started to count to five thousand.
Rather than face Merdynn Cei looked about the camp. There was a group led by Balor picking the last of the autumn berries from some bushes, an activity that would have met with some derision back at their home camps but not so now. Food in winter was scarce at best and any attempts to supplement supplies were only regarded with approval. Cei noticed that they kept their voices low as a matter of habit even though they knew that the outer ring of guards was beyond even the sound of their horses’ neighing. It was a good habit and Cei was glad to see that they had all slipped quickly into their campaign ways. He was also glad to see that groups of Wessex mingled with his Anglians and while the voices were softened, the talk was animated with excitement at the news that they were heading for Branque first. Most of the war band thought Arthur wanted to settle that score first and Merdynn quietly worried that might be the case too.
Merdynn pondered on that and the wisdom of this campaign in the Shadow Lands as the others slept. Despite the dangers and risks he concluded once again that it was necessary, then he fell to worrying about what the king might be devising whilst the Wessex and Anglian warriors were far from home. He could see no imaginable way that the king would benefit from losing the two war bands, unless he planned to throw himself and the kingdom at the mercy of the Adren and as the Adren had no mercy he could not expect to be shown any. No, it did not make sense, no sense at all. Clearly he was missing something and it worried him greatly.
After they had rested, Arthur led them south toward Branque leaving twenty to guard the camp and their supplies. Ethain had volunteered to be one of the guards but Cei had chosen others. As Ethain picked his way through the gloomy forest he felt his stomach turning over and he held his reins tightly in case his hands shook. Elowen and Tomas rode with him but any nerves they felt were only in anticipation of what they might find at the village where Arthur had nearly been killed. The raven-haired Morveren followed behind, subdued since her friend, Talan, had died on the Westway.
While every one in each company knew each other well, it was still usual to find groups of four or five riding, eating, patrolling and camping together. When it came to battle the same tight-knit groups would be standing side by side, trusting their lives to each other. Ceinwen watched the various groups remembering a time when she, her brother and Arthur had been one such group.
‘Remember when we were that young?’ Ceinwen asked, momentarily thinking Ruadan was near her. Morgund looked at her inquisitively and she nodded towards the younger group ahead of them.
‘I was never that young – and if I wasn’t then you definitely weren’t,’ Morgund answered, smiling at her.
‘We certainly weren’t that stupid,’ Balor added.
‘We were both – we were young and stupid. And you all know it, perhaps we were even younger,’ Mar’h joined in.
‘But surely not more stupid,’ Balor said defensively.
‘I wouldn’t be so certain of that,’ Ceinwen pointed to Mar’h who held his reins in his right hand only as his left was in a sling, ‘I remember him as a kid spending half his time chasing Della and the other half trying to avoid her scary mother.’
‘Trouble is that you catch one and get landed with the other,’ Mar’h replied glumly.
‘Of course Mar’h is more stupid, we’ve known that for years, but not us three,’ Balor said cheerfully.
‘It’s exactly because you three are so lamentably dim that I had to come with you to make sure you don’t go astray,’ Mar’h replied with the air on one raising above insults. Ceinwen was feeling quietly relieved that they seemed prepared to include her in what was a fairly obviously a tight group.
‘Why did you insist on coming, Mar’h? You’d be hopeless in a fight with that arm wrapped up,’ Morgund asked.
‘He’s hopeless anyway,’ Balor said turning in his saddle before Mar’h could answer. He turned back just in time to avoid a low hanging branch.
‘Someone needs to tell you when to duck and when to swing Balor,’ Mar’h answered him and Balor chuckled.
The ground before them began to rise and word came back down the line for quiet. They dismounted with their heart-rates increasing and led their horses up the steepening hill, winding between the trees that grew further apart the higher they climbed.
Herewulf and Osla, bot
h from the Anglian spear riders, took their horses’ reins from them and they were told to go on up and over the ridge ahead. The dry, soft bed of fallen pine needles layered between the trees gave way to a short tussock grass, with rocks and boulders strewn across the last stretch to the ridge above them.
Keeping low they crested the ridge and fanned out ten or twenty yards down the other side, resting up behind whatever cover offered itself. Ceinwen collected Ethain and ran crouched to where Arthur, Cei and Aelfhelm were looking down into the valley. Below them lay Branque.
Campfires burned in the compound within the walls and they could see figures moving around.
‘Ethain, how many can you see down there?’ Arthur asked.
Ethain peered down into the gloom of the village several hundred-feet below them. His right hand was trembling and he pressed it firmly into the tough grass to still the shaking. Ceinwen noticed it and put her hand on top of his to reassure him. He flinched but only Ceinwen noticed it.
‘Ethain?’ Arthur asked looking at him.
‘Probably about thirty around the fires outside. None on the walls – I can’t see any watchers.’
‘Good. Say double that inside the hall and buildings,’ Arthur said.
‘And they aren’t expecting company,’ Aelfhelm added as he shifted his tall, lean frame to ease the aching knee that was injured long ago in some youthful folly. He was over fifty years old, too old to be lying on cold hillsides he thought to himself. Only Herewulf, with his flamboyant but grey ponytail, was older amongst the Anglians and he noted sourly that Herewulf had more sense than to be lying out in the cold but he could not and did not complain, he had been a warrior for over thirty-five years and counted himself lucky to have no worse than an aching knee. The years had however furrowed his brow into a deep, perpetual frown above his thin, bearded face, which, together with his close-set eyes, lent his face a pinched and continually pained expression.
Arthur surveyed the scene below. The steep slope they were on was matched on the other side of the narrow, tilled valley floor. The river from the lake cut along the valley and Arthur remembered the fording point where he had met Andala. He could see where the charred stakes from the remains of his roundhouse pointed skyward from the edge of the lake that stretched out in a pale silver mirror behind the village.
He waited and watched. The others, strung-out below the ridgeline, waited patiently for his orders. Even the younger members of the war band had learnt it was better to wait and be sure than to rush in blindly.
Arthur eventually turned to Cei, Aelfhelm and Mar’h and outlined his plan. He wanted five bowmen spaced a hundred yards apart on the hills on each side of the village and five more along the valley floor two hundred yards from the walls. None of the Adren were to get past them. If any horsemen tried to ride through then they were to be captured if possible or killed if they could not be taken.
There would be nothing subtle about the attack on the village itself. They would approach along the riverbank to remain concealed for as long as they could. Cei would lead his warriors through the West Gate and Arthur would take his through the East, both on foot. If possible they were to kill those outside the main hall with their longbows.
Cei suggested that they leave two horsemen further down the slope they were on in case any riders from the village made it past the bowmen. They agreed and Mar’h and Aelfhelm passed among their war bands repeating the plan and allocating positions.
They crossed back over the ridge and followed it for a mile away from the village before starting their descent into the valley. The chosen bowmen split into three groups and left the main body to take their positions. The warriors waited once more, strung along the riverbank kneeling or lying flat, allowing time for the others to reach their places.
Eventually Arthur signalled for them to follow as he led the forty warriors towards the village. It took them thirty minutes to reach the point nearest the village walls. Cei took his company along another two hundred yards and as they passed the Wessex warriors the two groups grinned and exchanged good-natured insults, telling each other not to muck things up.
Even in the twilight Arthur could see that there were still no watchers on the walls. He signalled Cei and then crept over the bank’s edge and ran crouched over to the village wall where he knelt down. Behind him scrambled his warriors and the Anglians did likewise. They headed for the two opposite gates. Those inside the compound were raucous enough to cover any sounds of their approach and Arthur hoped that they were drunk on the village’s stored wine and ale.
Arthur looked at those around him. Mar’h was strapping his shield tightly onto his left arm. Balor was hefting his heavy war axe and itching to get through the gate. Morgund was restraining him with one outstretched hand while in the other was his longbow. Ceinwen already had an arrow strung to her bow and her eyes were flicking between Arthur’s face and the gate only feet away.
Her mind had been in turmoil from the moment they had seen the village, her home. At first she had felt sick at the memories that came flooding back. Somehow she had managed to suppress many of the images from that desperate slaughter but seeing the village had brought them all back with a vengeance and she kept seeing Andala being cut down as he reached out shouting for her to go back the way they had come. But the revulsion and fear had slowly given way to blinding anger and now, as she knelt by the gateway, all she wanted was revenge for the blood of her family.
Arthur fitted an arrow to his bow and his hands were completely steady. He looked at Ceinwen and the others, smiled calmly and nodded. He stood up and walked through the gate. The others leapt up and followed, fanning out in a semi-circle as they ran through the entrance.
There were two main groups of Adren, loosely gathered around two fires burning to either side of the main hall. Some of those nearest the East Gate looked across to see who had arrived just as the first flight of arrows tore through them. As those hit went crashing into their companions, the second flight of arrows scythed into them.
Arthur drew the sword given to him at Delbaeth Gofannon for the first time in battle and charged those left standing. Five bowmen remained at the gate, searching for and finding targets to their left and right. The others followed Arthur, sprinting towards the chaos outside the hall. Arthur’s sword was sweeping and hacking at the Adren in a blur, flashing red in the firelight. Balor diverted his charge to avoid Arthur’s blade and made straight for the hall. He crashed full tilt through the door and sprawled full length exactly where Colban had fallen trying to warn Arthur. Ceinwen and Morgund leapt over him and charged straight into the confused Adren who had been feasting and carousing only moments before. Behind them the others poured into the hall.
As Mar’h passed Balor he leant down and said, ‘Don’t duck until I tell you to.’
Balor bounced to his feet cursing. Leah was foremost among the Anglians and she ran her spear through the nearest Adren, abandoned it and drew her sword as Cerdic and Aelfhelm overtook her hacking left and right with their swords.
Arthur met Cei by the entrance to the hall, both their swords bloodied, and Arthur grinned at him before walking in. The Adren furthest from the door had recovered and stood before the raised platform of the hall with their curved swords drawn. The slaughter near the door was over and the two sides faced each other. The numbers were about even now. Arthur turned and closed the hall doors slowly. Taking the long plank of wood by the doorway he then slotted it into place, barring the doors shut. The Adren, seeing this, shifted uneasily and snarled at their attackers in a language unknown in Middangeard. Arthur walked through his war band, his sword in his hand and faced the Adren.
‘Who is your leader?’ he asked.
They threw curses at him and inched forward. An arrow sped from the raised dais straight at Arthur. With almost impossible speed his sword flicked out and swatted it aside. Later the warriors would argue amongst themselves about whether the arrow had shot past Arthur or whether it had been misfired but
few would openly admit to what they had witnessed.
Arthur advanced on the Adren and the war band advanced behind him. ‘This is not your land. There is nothing for you here in the West,’ Arthur said.
Balor could restrain himself no longer and leapt at the Adren, swinging his axe in a wide arc and cutting down two of them as the rest of the warriors crashed into the Adren ranks.
It was over in a minute. The dead and dying lay about the raised dais.
‘Ceinwen, see to our wounded. Balor, Morgund – kill theirs,’ Arthur said, wiping the blood from his sword.
Cei led the others to search the village for any Adren who had not been in the hall when they attacked. Balor went about his business dispassionately but Arthur saw Morgund hesitating over an Adren who was trying to crawl away from him, trailing blood on the earth of the hall.
Arthur strode across to him. ‘Do you think they’d tend your wounds and send you back to us hale and healthy?’ Arthur said to him. ‘Well? Do you?’
‘No, Arthur,’ Morgund answered quickly.
Arthur stepped over the crawling Adren and kicked him over onto his back, ‘You can kill them slowly,’ and Arthur half-thrust his sword into the guts of the mewling soldier and twisted it. ‘Or you can kill them quickly,’ and he forced the sword through the now screaming Adren’s chest, splintering the ribs and slicing into the heart. ‘But kill them. It’s simple. There’s no mercy and no quarter here.’ All the while he had been looking at Morgund. ‘Now get on with it,’ Arthur said and strode from the hall leaving Morgund wiping the back of his hand across his suddenly dry mouth.
Cei had rounded up twelve Adren who had been scattered among the outbuildings when the attack had taken place. Arthur went to inspect the prisoners but there was no captain amongst them.
‘Kill them,’ he said and turned to go and find Ceinwen. He found her bent over one of their injured who was squirming on the ground, his heels digging grooves in the dirt as he tried with all his strength not to scream. Ceinwen gingerly examined the deep bloody tear across his stomach. She felt oddly removed from the present. Somehow this was no longer her village, it certainly wasn’t her home and now that her sudden thirst for revenge had been slaked she felt sickened once again.
