by Simon Lister
Balor was still trying to claw the mud from his hands and face and he looked up to see Morgund smiling at him.
‘Enjoy your swim?’
‘How did you manage to stay dry?’ Balor asked staring at the dry and mud-free figure before him.
‘Used the bridge. It’s what they’re for.’
‘You always were a lucky bastard. Did Cael make it as well?’
‘He wasn’t so lucky.’
‘Are the others still with us? Morveren? Ceinwen? Ruadan?’
‘Don’t know where they are. Probably with Gereint holding the new line.’
‘How did the bastards get behind us?’
‘No idea. We’ll be lucky to get out of this one now though; they have us on both sides. You ready for some more?’
Balor finished scraping the mud from his hands and gripped his war axe firmly once more before replying, ‘Bloody right I am! This is what I call a fight, none of your prancing through forests loosing off a few arrows.’
Morgund laughed and made for Gereint’s line of Mercians. As they neared the fighting they could hear Arthur shouting out the order to advance. Arthur wanted to push the Adren back to the last defensive wall on the Causeway and get his warriors away from the gap before the enemy could line the far bank with their archers. There was only one way to safety now and that relied upon breaking through the Adren who had outflanked them before the gap behind them was bridged. The ruins of the Gates had already been torn down for just that purpose.
Arthur knew that if his warriors were trapped on the Causeway with the enemy on either side or caught on the open flats by their greater numbers then the defence of Britain would effectively be over so he roared at them to advance and forced his way to the front of the battle to take the fight to those who sought to trap them. Once again the ragged line of Britons pressed onwards. They were exhausted by the constant days of battling and they were dangerously close to the end of their strength. At first they had fought to hold the Adren at bay on the Causeway. Then they had fought at the Gates to save their lives and to save what little hope of defending Britain remained. Now they fought on instinct, numb to everything other than Arthur roaring them on to kill.
*
Gwyna had been surveying the flats during the descent from the cliffs and when she reached the base she reined in the Uathach warriors’ instincts to charge headlong into the battle and called Ruraidh over to her.
‘Take half the warriors and all the spare horses and ride for the tunnel entrance. Collapse it, block it, do what you can but stop the Adren reaching the flats and hold the horses there!’
Ruraidh called out for various clan chiefs and together with their warriors they rode for the gaping subsidence from where more Adren were constantly emerging. Gwyna turned to the remaining warriors who were now freed from the burden of leading the spare horses and stood in her stirrups so that they could all see her.
‘Charge in a line abreast and ride straight for the Causeway! We’ll clear a line for Arthur’s warriors to make it to their horses! Ride down everything in your path and don’t stop until we reach them!’
With her sword raised she kicked back into her horse’s flanks and led the charge across the flats. Ruraidh’s contingent reached the tunnel first and the fierce fighting around the entrance drew the attention of the Adren already on the flats and making for the Causeway. They turned to deal with the enemy who had launched a surprise attack to their rear only to be faced with Gwyna’s charge of over a hundred mounted warriors riding down on them at a full gallop.
The unexpectedness of that sight and the ferocity of the noise of such a charge should have caused them to take flight but the scattered Adren turned and held the ground where they stood. The thundering wave crashed straight through them and on towards the Causeway leaving a swathe of broken bodies in its wake.
*
Arthur kept moving forward and dragged the line with him. Morgund and Balor had fought their way to his side and carried the fight to his right. To his left Gereint and his brother Glore slashed and hacked their way towards the last rampart. They were all beyond the normal endurance of their strength and only desperation kept them going. Behind them the Adren were already constructing a makeshift bridge from the West Wall of the fort and although the Britons could not see this they nonetheless knew their time was running out. Every yard gained here was a yard nearer to the cliffs and a yard further from the Adren host behind them but to gain each yard they had to kill the Adren facing them and there were hundreds still between them and the flats.
They knew they would not make it and they fought all the harder at the bitter knowledge of their fate. They fought without their war cries and without cursing their enemy. They fought in a silent determination to kill whoever was in front of them and to gain another precious yard. Then through the din of battle they felt the ground underneath their feet echo to the drum of hooves and above the frantic clashing of weapons they heard the war cries of the Uathach. Suddenly the Adren in front of them were caught in confusion as Gwyna’s charging warriors surged over the ramparts behind them and tore into the ranks facing the Britons. Cries went up along the advancing shield wall that the Uathach had come and they pressed home their attack with renewed hope. Caught between the fury of the two onslaughts the remaining Adren on the Causeway were themselves doomed to slaughter.
Gwyna searched among the southern warriors for Arthur and watched as he cut down one of the few Adren still standing. She urged her horse over to him.
‘Arthur! There’s more on the flats. Ruraidh’s stopping more joining them but we have to hurry!’
‘Our horses?’
‘With Ruraidh, about half a mile away.’
Arthur looked back towards the gap and the main body of the Adren army. They were already hauling a bridge into place to span the cutting.
‘We’ll make for the horses. Destroy that bridge and then ride to cover our flanks!’
Gwyna wheeled her horse away and started crying out orders to the other riders around her. Arthur strode through his warriors who were in various stages of collapse. Some were leaning on weapons; others were half kneeling on the ground. All of them were exhausted.
‘Half a mile! Just half a mile to our horses!’ He started to drag warriors to their feet, ‘Cover that half a mile and you stay alive!’ Arthur picked up dropped weapons and put them back into hands too tired to grip them, ‘Stay alive and you can kill more of the bastards in Britain!’ He stood before them and roared at them. ‘Get up you bastards! You’re warriors of Britain! Do you want the Uathach to carry you? You haven’t fought this long to die here now! Get up! Get the wounded to the centre!’ He physically hauled up those who thought they were unable to go on and bullied them into the close order formation he wanted. He put Gereint and Morgund at the front and the southern warriors left the Causeway at a shambling run. He alternated between the flanks and rear shouting encouragement and threatening to hack to death anyone who floundered and all the time he counted down the distance to their horses.
There were still Adren on the flats and they banded together to attack the warriors as they made towards Ruraidh’s force. As each band charged towards them Arthur shouted out the names of those who looked less likely to collapse and each time ten or so warriors would peel away from the formation and launch themselves at the Adren then run to catch up with the main body once again. What should have taken them only two to three minutes took them ten but they finally reached Ruraidh’s warriors and their own horses.
Arthur looked down into the pit and saw the Uathach warriors blocking the exit of the tunnel. He gazed back towards the Causeway and saw Gwyna’s riders heading back towards them. She had led a charge over the Adren bridge once it had fallen into place and cleared the far side of the gap for over a hundred yards before racing back over the bridge and collapsing it behind them. His warriors were mounting their horses all around him and he shouted out to Ruraidh to pull back from the tunnel. As the Uathach turn
ed from the Adren they began to pour out from the gaping blackness and Arthur led his own warriors charging into their flank to give Ruraidh and the others enough time to mount up and ride clear.
They halted a few hundred yards from the tunnel and Gwyna’s riders joined them. For a moment Arthur considered leading a charge back towards the Adren and starting the whole bloody slaughter once more but Morgund saw what he was thinking and catching his eye slowly shook his head. Arthur saw the message and saw that his warriors were unable to give any more. He knew that if they fought now they would all die cheaply. He turned his horse and without a word pointed to the cliffs.
*
Balor laboured up the last stretch of the steep slope leading his horse behind him. When he finally reached the top the sunlight fell on his face and he closed his eyes as an overwhelming mixture of relief and tiredness washed over him. He forced himself to lead his horse a little way from the path to make room for those following him and he gazed around the headland.
Someone was passing by with a bucket of water and Balor called out to him. He altered his path and offered Balor a ladle of water. Balor gave him a disgusted look and taking the bucket in both hands tipped it up to his mouth. He closed his eyes and gulped the water down his parched throat letting the excess flow freely down the sides of his face to run down his neck and onto his chest. He handed the bucket back and saw the red tunic, which showed the warrior to be one of the Mercians.
This was the first time he had fought alongside the Mercians and he had been surprised by how well drilled they were. He thanked the man and sat down heavily once again closing his eyes in weariness. He felt himself slipping immediately to sleep and forced his eyes back open with a slight jerk of his head. He stretched his legs out before him and pressed down on his knees to stretch them further all the time resisting the compulsion to lie back on the grass and fade into unconsciousness. Instead he looked about him at the warriors who were still being joined by those making their way up the cliff.
Many of them seemed to be injured and all of them seemed to be covered in blood but whether or not it was their own blood he could not tell. They were plainly exhausted. Most of them stood or sat alone and Balor could see no one talking. They had been fighting the Adren for weeks on the Causeway and the last few days had been one long constant battle and despite knowing that they were lucky to be alive and to have escaped the Adren trap they all had the same shattered look of defeat. They had fought beyond their endurance and now sat or stood in silence with glazed expressionless faces. Balor realised he must look the same and once again fought the temptation to lie back on the grass. He heard someone sit down behind him but he did not have the energy or inclination to turn around and see who it was.
‘We’re never going to live it down.’
On hearing Morgund’s voice he forced himself to turn around, ‘What?’
‘Being rescued by the Uathach.’
Balor grunted before replying, ‘If they’d turned up earlier we might have saved the Causeway. What kept them so long?’
‘Don’t know yet but there’s an interesting corpse about a hundred yards over there.’
‘Already seen too many bloody corpses,’ Balor mumbled in reply.
‘This one’s Ablach though. Died up here. Someone opened his head for him.’
Balor looked up with a spark of interest, ‘Ablach, dead? And killed up here?’
‘Interesting isn’t it?’
‘Serves him right for not coming sooner.’
‘Probably what the person who killed him thought as well.’
‘What about our lot? I’m too tired to get up and look around. Who made it out of that mess down there?’
‘Well, Arthur did...’
‘I know Arthur did!’ Balor interrupted him, ‘He was shouting in my ear every step from the Causeway to the horses!’
‘Yours and everyone else’s. He must be possessed by the gods. I thought for a second that he was going to order us to charge back into them once we were on our horses.’
‘So, who else?’ Balor asked.
‘You know Cael died at the last bridge?’
‘Yes.’
‘So we won’t ever be short of supplies again.’
Balor looked at Morgund scowling for a second before starting to laugh. ‘We’ll have to empty a couple of barrels of beer to do justice to his memory.’
‘Him and Ruadan,’ Morgund said, no longer smiling.
Balor cursed before asking where he fell.
‘As we retreated through the West Gate apparently. I didn’t see it but unfortunately Ceinwen did. Judging by what Morveren says she went a bit mad after that and she needed help to stop Ceinwen from leaving the shield wall and charging into the Adren.’
Balor cursed again.
‘But Morveren’s still alive then?’
‘Morveren survived. She’s over there somewhere sitting with Ceinwen.’
‘Who else?’ Balor asked once again feeling overcome with tiredness. As Morgund listed the names of those he knew had died and those who were still unaccounted for Balor’s concentration ebbed away until all he could think of were the faces of the friends who had died.
Arthur was standing over the dead body of the Uathach chieftain.
‘What happened here?’ His question was directed to Gwyna but she just stood staring at the sprawled figure of her father and it was Ruraidh who finally answered.
‘Gwyna killed him.’
Arthur looked back to the woman by his side.
‘What happened here?’ he repeated the question to her.
She brought her eyes up to him and her face showed neither remorse nor guilt and she replied, ‘I brought you the northern warriors.’
A short silence followed her statement then Ruraidh spoke up again.
‘We’d been camped here for over a week. Ablach was undecided whether or not to ride down to the Causeway.’ He hesitated as Arthur stared him then took a breath and continued in a matter of fact voice, ‘We were divided about what to do. Some counselled that we had no choice but to fight alongside the southerners if we were to have any chance against the Adren host. Others wanted to let you stand alone and die and then either fight them ourselves or turn for the North and hope they left us alone.’
‘After taking our horses and plundering what you could from Caer Sulis,’ Arthur said without accusation.
Ruraidh took another deep breath and looked for some help from Gwyna but none was forthcoming so he continued, ‘Yes, that’s what some thought.’
‘That’s what Ablach wanted.’
‘I think he was torn between wishing you dead and needing your warriors to help battle the Adren. Two events spurred him to decide; the two Cithol coming here and Gwyna’s arrival.’ He paused and looked at Arthur who was staring at him.
‘The Cithol came here?’
‘Two of them did. I was with Ablach when he spoke to them. I got the impression that there was no Cithol army coming to your aid and I suppose that Ablach read it the same way.’
‘Who were they?’ Arthur asked.
‘A black-skinned captain and a green-eyed witch,’ Ruraidh replied, growing nervous under Arthur’s intense stare.
‘What were their names?’
‘I don’t remember,’ Ruraidh replied, desperate not to reveal what both he and Ablach thought about Seren’s reaction to Ablach’s crude joke about her carrying another of Arthur’s bastards.
‘You do remember.’
Ruraidh shot a quick glance at Gwyna who was now watching their exchange with interest.
‘Seren and Tyrell or something but it was their message about the Adren that forced Ablach to act one way or the other.’ Ruraidh rushed on in his haste to divert away Arthur’s attention, ‘They warned him about the tunnel under the Causeway and that the Adren were going to use it to trap you between two forces!’
Gwyna swore, ‘You mean he knew about it before the confrontation here? Before the Cithol witch spoke up in fron
t of everyone?’
‘Yes. I think he believed Arthur’s force to be doomed so he chose instead to raid Caer Sulis and head back North.’ He turned his attention back to Arthur and continued, ‘It all happened at the same time. As Gwyna was challenging Ablach’s authority the Adren surfaced from the tunnel and Gwyna had to act.’
‘You slew your father and led the warriors to battle,’ Arthur concluded for him as he watched Gwyna. ‘What of the two Cithol?’
Gwyna shrugged and Ruraidh looked around him as if he expected to still see them somewhere nearby.
‘We left them here,’ he finally replied.
‘What of Benoc and Hund?’ Arthur asked of the other two northern chieftains.
‘Neither answered the call though both sent most of their warriors,’ Gwyna said.
‘And you now lead the northern tribes?’ he asked her.
‘Together we lead all that will stand against the Adren.’
‘Good. Get word to your people for them to go to the safety of Caer Sulis,’ Arthur replied and stepping over Ablach’s body walked to the nearby cliff edge. The other two followed him and stood on either side as he stared out over the flats. The Adren were still spilling off the Causeway and already the expanse below the cliffs was darkening with their numbers. He studied the host below for a minute and realised that the Adren army was far larger than they had originally guessed. He could see other warriors lined along the cliffs and knew they were realising the same dreadful truth.
He looked to Gwyna and said, ‘Your charge saved my warriors’ lives.’ Then turning to Ruraidh added, ‘And without your attack on the tunnel entrance we would never have made it back to the cliffs. We’ve lost the Causeway when together we may have held it but they’ve paid for it with thousands of their own soldiers’ lives. And they haven’t finished paying the toll yet. I want you to hold the cliffs against them to buy me time to get my warriors back to the copse above the Winter Wood. Don’t risk being overrun just hold it for a few days then bring your warriors back to the copse.’
