Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  Sal checked the strapping on his large rectangular shield once again.

  ‘Don’t fancy that poor bugger’s chances.’

  ‘Whose chances?’ Garwin asked staring straight ahead and spitting on his shield.

  Sal nodded his head towards the middle of the bridge where the burning barges were sending a column of smoke high into the still air.

  ‘Who took the boats in?’ Keir asked from his other side.

  ‘Some big Anglian bastard,’ Sal answered, looking towards the spreading flames again.

  ‘Don’t fancy his chances much,’ Garwin chipped in.

  ‘That’s what I just said.’

  ‘Well, you’d be right then.’

  Sal looked at his brother and saw the streaks of sweat on his face and decided it didn’t matter if he was cheeking him or not. The chaotic battle was only two hundred yards ahead of them and they heard Mar’h shouting somewhere to their left and near to the centre of the line. The order was relayed by the cohort captains and they stopped to readjust their positions in the line.

  Sal’s throat was too dry to swallow and he offered a quick prayer to his sea gods wondering if they would have any sway over matters on the land. Beside him Garwin was urinating against his shield and Sal stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘If I don’t go now I’ll only want to go later,’ Garwin answered with an unapologetic shrug. Sal shook his head while Keir laughed and then the order came down the line to advance and they started to close the distance to the enemy.

  *

  Mar’h was in the centre of the line and he looked anxiously to his left and right to reassure himself that the legion had followed out his command. He was relieved to see that the cohorts had adjusted their formation; the previously straight line now resembled the cutting edge of a saw with the triangular teeth pointing towards the enemy.

  Mar’h knew that the next hour would tell whether his training of the legion had been good enough and whether Merdynn’s tales of ancient battle tactics were based on experience or merely the dreams of an old man. Mar’h felt reasonably confident for even though the battle had not gone to plan they had still achieved their main objective in splitting the Adren into two roughly equal forces. The centre of the bridge was now blazing fiercely, effectively isolating half of the Adren soldiers on the southern bank.

  Mar’h could see that more of the Adren were now turning away from the battle with the mounted warriors near the bridge to face this new and unexpected assault on their flank.

  ‘Keep advancing!’ he shouted out to those around him just as the first Adren charged into their jagged ranks.

  *

  Aelfric held his breath as he watched Mar’s legion advance into the battle on the riverbank. He had listened to Arthur’s captains as they had discussed the tactics and strategies for this battle. Like Mar’h, he knew that events had not gone exactly as they had planned but he also remembered Arthur saying that battle plans rarely worked as they were supposed to and that the key to winning was to be able to adjust to new situations quicker than the enemy could.

  He feared for Saewulf who was supposed to have dived clear of the burning barges and make for the northern bank. One of the reasons why he had been chosen for the task was because he was one of the strongest swimmers among the Anglians. Another reason was because he was strong enough to manoeuvre both barges to the centre of the bridge but the overriding reason had been because he absolutely refused to let anyone else undertake the task. He had been among the last to give up hope on Cei and the others but when he had finally accepted that they must have died on the Breton headland then he burned for vengeance. Aelfric had the sickening feeling that he had done just that.

  He watched the progress of Mar’h’s legion as they slowly advanced into the Adren mass. As far as he could tell from where he watched, the numbers on each side seemed roughly equal although he suspected that the Adren had probably lost several hundred already. He had no way of knowing if the battle formation was working as they had thought it would; it was designed so that as the cohorts advanced, and as the Adren pressed to get at them, the enemy would be channelled into the teeth of the saw where the large shields would prevent them from getting at the Britons. As more Adren forced themselves forward the enemy would become packed into the indented spaces of the saw and unable to wield their weapons freely whereas the slowly advancing Britons would still be able to stab from between their shields with their shorter swords while the crossbows in the second line would fire their darts over the top of the shields into the massed enemy. The tactic relied upon two elements essentially; the cohort’s ability to hold their jagged line and the enemies’ overwhelming urge to get at the Britons.

  Aelfric was sure about the second of those elements and it seemed that the first was holding true too. As he watched he saw that the mounted warriors were beginning to disengage themselves from the melee by the bridge and he wondered fearfully if Arthur was still among them or if he had fallen as Mar’h seemed to think he had. The five hundred odd horsemen were reforming some distance from the battle and, just as Mar’h had predicted they would, the Adren, unable to use their left flank because of the river, tried to outflank the Britons on the open side. Elwyn’s five hundred archers were waiting for them and Aelfric could see volley after volley fly into the Adren ranks.

  The bridge finally separated in the middle and the burnt ends began to swing down current like a huge gate slowly opening. The fire was still spreading down the length of each arm of the remaining sections and Aelfric realised a benefit they had not expected; the smoke was obscuring much of the battle from the Adren stranded on the South side of the river.

  Aelfric could see that despite the devastating volley fire of Elwyn’s archers the Adren were still intent on closing around the legion’s left flank. He knew the battle would be won or lost on whether or not the Adren could get around the side of the advancing cohorts and that it would be won or lost within the next hour. Without waiting any longer he turned away from the battle and clattered down the ladder as fast as he dared. If he had stayed a few seconds longer he would have seen the mounted warriors gather and charge the Adren force that was threatening the legion’s flank.

  When he reached the ground he raced to the man in charge of the miscellaneous wagon drivers, cooks and metal smiths who had travelled with the legion. He suggested that they immediately start the journey back to the ford on the far side of the Winter Wood. They started to ready the wagons straight away, not because he had ordered it but because it made good sense; if the Adren won then they would have a vital head start in the flight to the Haven and if the Britons won then they would need to be at the ford anyway. Aelfric also suggested that the wagons of arrows and the war band’s longbows should be kept nearby and that he would stay with them.

  When the last wagon had lumbered off through the trees Aelfric lit a brand from the same fire that Saewulf had used and placed it in the ground near to the wagons that contained the arrows. If the Adren won the battle they would not be getting the war band’s stockpile of arrows; not that he thought it would make much difference by then if they did.

  *

  Sal grunted with the effort it took to keep the shield before him, straining to resist the press of bodies that were pushing against it. For minutes now it had been all that he and those around him could do to keep from being forced back; any forward momentum was impossible.

  He swore as his footing slipped on the bloody grass and his shield wavered against the weight bearing on it. The woman behind him immediately fired a crossbow bolt into the sudden gap of shields and then leant her shoulder into his back and helped to push him back into line. The resisting force gave momentarily and he pushed forward stepping over the squirming body now at his feet. Someone else behind him, he had no idea who, thrust their spear into the body at his feet and it stopped thrashing as the spear was ripped free. ‘Another bastard down,’ he thought grimly then ducked as a flailing sword bit into the top of his shie
ld. It was wrenched free and came hacking down again. He yelled out for help, unable to take his right hand away from the shield to unsheathe his own sword. The sword came down again and was stopped a bare inch from his shoulder. He shouted out desperately for help and an arm appeared reaching over him and holding a crossbow. He heard the thud as it fired and the attacking sword was gone. Again he heaved against the press of bodies and gradually the line was moving forward once more. His throat burned with thirst, his arms were almost numbed with fatigue and any moment could bring death but he had never felt so alive. He understood finally why his sister, Morveren, had chosen to become a warrior. He turned his head to grin at Keir but Keir was no longer standing next to him.

  *

  Elwyn shouted out the order to cease-fire then stormed along the front of the line as arrows kept flying from the ranks of his archers. He had heard the charge of the horsemen long before he had seen the first of them burst through the ranks of the attacking Adren. The combined horse of the war band and Morgund’s cohort shredded the Adren flanking attack and those that survived the initial charge sought to regain the safety of their main force.

  The horsemen wheeled away and Elwyn could see what they planned to do; charge into the rear of the Adren force that was attacking the legion. He also saw what he had to do and turned the Adren’s flanking attack against them as he advanced his archers beyond the left arm of the legion. Despite having the Adren force exposed before him he shouted out for his archers to aim only at the rear of the enemy. Five hundred archers rained volley after volley down upon the Adren and only ceased when the mounted warriors charged once more into them.

  The Adren were trapped on three sides with the river on their fourth and they fought on for another hour but they were doomed and they knew it. When only a hundred remained the horsemen and legion pulled back and Elwyn’s archers slaughtered those that remained standing. The first part of the battle had been won but not without its cost.

  Chapter Seven

  Morveren reined in her horse and turned to look back at her village. She had seen it deserted before but only in the darkness of winter and somehow it seemed emptier with the bright sun shining down on the empty homes and the lifeless main thoroughfare. The village should be echoing to the sounds of life; a boat returning with its catch, children chatting as they mended nets, a dog barking at an inquisitive piglet but the only sounds were the low hum of insects as they danced among the wild flowers and the ceaseless background noise of waves crashing on the shingle beech. The village seemed dead and she was reluctant to leave it to rest in peace.

  Ceinwen watched her patiently for a minute or two then nudged her horse closer and said, ‘You’ll see it again.’

  Morveren stirred from her reverie and brought her horse back onto the path. They took the coastal road that dipped along the cliffs and bays as they headed further west.

  ‘You will,’ Ceinwen said again some time later.

  Morveren shrugged, ‘It’s a dung heap really. I wouldn’t much mind if I never saw it again.’

  ‘What’s bothering you then?’

  ‘I was wondering if my daft brothers will ever see it again. Or any of the others come to that.’

  ‘Of course they will,’ Ceinwen answered and Morveren smiled at the weak platitude.

  ‘How long do you think it’d last if no one ever came back to it?’

  ‘The village?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not long I suppose. Certainly not as long as the ruins in the Winter Wood have lasted.’

  ‘We haven’t left much behind to be remembered by have we?’

  Ceinwen looked at her and frowned, ‘What’s put you in such a cheery mood?’

  ‘Well, this,’ Morveren replied, gesturing vaguely with her hands.

  ‘This what?’

  ‘Us, wasting our time. Riding around a deserted land looking for someone who probably isn’t here.’

  ‘If you’re happy to tell Arthur that then we’ll head back now.’

  Morveren sighed in resignation and carried on riding westward towards their next destination; Ethain’s home village.

  ‘Did Arthur used to be more...’ Morveren’s voice trailed off as she sought for the right word. The subject had been gnawing at her for some time but now that she had the chance to talk about it she was finding it difficult to articulate exactly what she felt.

  ‘More what?’

  ‘Well, less harsh? Most of the time people seem almost afraid to even approach him.’

  Ceinwen thought about the question and wondered how she should answer it. She wondered who was asking it; a warrior in the Wessex war band or Arthur’s daughter.

  ‘Well?’ Morveren prompted as the silence lengthened.

  ‘I’m thinking.’

  ‘It’s a straight forward question,’ Morveren said, correctly guessing why Ceinwen was deliberating over the answer and feeling angry about it.

  ‘The question may be but the answer isn’t.’

  ‘Well, take your time!’ Morveren snapped and rode on ahead. She hated the ever-present undercurrent whenever she talked to someone about Arthur. She knew full well it was inevitably brought on by the unspoken question of whether or not she was his daughter but it made it no easier to bear.

  Ceinwen bit back a retort and watched as Morveren cantered off down the path wondering what had made her so irritable. She knew the heat of summer and the difficulty of finding an adequate place to sleep while travelling could shorten a person’s temper considerably but she felt it was more likely to be the thought of her brothers involved in the battle far to the East that was preying on her mind. She could understand why she would be worried about that and she could understand too why Morveren would be worried about actually finding Ethain, he had been her friend after all.

  She caught up with Morveren some hours later. She had stopped by a river that ran down to the sea and this was where they would leave the coastal path and head inland towards Ethain’s village. Morveren had taken the opportunity to bathe in the river although the water level was so low there was barely enough to submerge herself in.

  They greeted each other with a politeness that showed neither was entirely comfortable. Ceinwen led her horse into the shallows and as it lowered its head to drink she hauled the saddle off and carried it back to the grassy riverbank. She followed Morveren’s example and let the gently flowing water wash the sweat and dirt from her skin while Morveren prepared some food. When she felt the cool water beginning to cramp her muscles she dragged herself onto the bank and used her tunic to towel her hair dry.

  ‘How far is it to Ethain’s village from here?’ Morveren asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to fill the silence between them.

  ‘Four, maybe five hours,’ Ceinwen replied and helped herself to some of the food that Morveren had picked out from her own saddlebag. That annoyed Morveren further and she struggled to hide her irritation. They ate without speaking and when they had finished the meal they re-saddled their horses and set off along the path that followed the course of the river.

  After a few miles of studied silence Ceinwen turned to her companion, ‘Do you know the story of how Merdynn found Arthur?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with Arthur ignoring me?’

  ‘I’m trying to explain it to you, you stupid girl!’ snapped Ceinwen, thoroughly fed up with Morveren’s attitude. Morveren was taken aback by Ceinwen’s uncharacteristic outburst and just stared at her.

  ‘And he doesn’t ignore you. The last time we were together we were sitting and talking on the bank outside Caer Cadarn.’

  ‘He was telling us the battle plan! Besides, I mean more generally than that,’ Morveren replied angrily.

  Ceinwen waited a few seconds to calm herself before repeating her earlier question, ‘Do you know the story?’

  ‘He hid in a well with his baby sister when his village was raided,’ Morveren replied, looking straight ahead.

  ‘No. He hid his sister in the well be
fore the raiders arrived.’

  ‘Well? What’s the difference?’ she replied truculently.

  ‘He knew what was going to happen and he saved who he could.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with him hating me?’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you. Try being less self-obsessed.’

  ‘I still don’t see what you’re trying to stay.’

  ‘Ever since then Arthur’s motives and actions can be summed up by one word.’

  ‘Vicious? Murderous? Power-crazed-insanity?’

  Ceinwen reined in her horse and glared at the younger woman in fury, ‘Is that what you think? That he’s just more vicious than anyone else and that’s why he’s the warlord?’

  Morveren was unable to meet her glare and replied more quietly, ‘No. No, I don’t but it is what some of the people from my village say.’

  ‘Then they’re idiots. They have no idea what they’re talking about or who they’re talking about!’

  They started off along the path once again and Morveren stayed silent unsure how angry Ceinwen might still be.

  Eventually it was Ceinwen who broke the silence, ‘Protection.’

  ‘What...?’

  ‘Shut up and listen.’

  Morveren bridled at the rebuke but she shut up and Ceinwen continued, ‘More or less everything that Arthur’s done since that raid on his village has been about protection. If he could have saved his village then he would have done, but he knew that if he told them that the raiders were only minutes away then his parents would have tried to protect both him and his sister; and failed. He did what he could and saved all he could. He’s been doing the same ever since. I could list hundreds of examples but I’ll give just two. He took control of the Wessex war band because back in those days they were a bigger threat to the people of Wessex than the Uathach were and once he had control of the war band, and changed it to what it is now, then he could protect Wessex properly from the northern raiders!’ Ceinwen took a deep breath trying to dissipate her anger.