We continued to discuss the tactics to be used in the battle to come - should it come to battle. After a while it was agreed that pretty much everything that could be covered, had been. The warlords, kings and commanders dispersed to their tents across the camp. I was about to leave when Penda called me back.
“Ciaran, I am in your debt. Thank you.” He shook my hand, warmly. I probed him and could see that he had promised Cadfael and several of the others more than he was able to deliver, without impoverishing his own kingdom. He had been counting on the defeat of Northumbria to make up the difference but the army that Oswy was putting into the field was too small; there would have been insufficient ransoms available. Clovis’ treasure was more than enough. He could keep his promises and end up as rich as before he started. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t - but it seems that the gods did,” I replied. He asked me how I came by it. “Clovis tried to have me killed, rather than pay me what was due. I took what I was owed and this treasure was just lying there, asking to be removed from such irresponsible care.” Penda snorted with amusement. “I did it to punish him. From the start, I knew I was only looking after it, that it would never be mine. I have tried to get rid of it several times but it has stuck to me like glue.”
“Until now?” He asked, with a faint edge to what should have been a statement but became a question. His grip became a little firmer.
“Yes, until now. I am pleased to be rid of it - you would not believe the trouble I have brought it through. It is yours, Penda - I have no need of it.”
“There is still a price on your head,” he said, and looked me hard in the eye.
“Not that much,” I replied. “What’s more, during years past I could have paid it a dozen times over already, if I believed that was what the gods decreed.”
“So it is mine? To do with as I wish? You swear?”
“Yes,” I said, a little exasperated. “I swear. It is yours. I thought you would be pleased - you seemed to be pleased. Do not let this gift come between us.” I felt a sudden sharp twinge, as if a child had pinched me - but in the mind, not on my arm. I thought briefly about what it might be but nothing came to me. Penda was relaxing his grip. He looked away from my eye, perhaps a bit shame-faced.
“My apologies, Ciaran. We have not always been on the same side but I know you are a man of your word.” I said he should think nothing of it, and asked to be excused. I was tired. When I asked where I could unroll my bed he told me that quarters had been prepared, within the picket-line. He called a guard to lead me there. I took my leave, whistled for Wolf and was led to a well-appointed tent, with a bed already made up. I splashed my face to remove the worst of the day’s grime and then fell quickly asleep.
Chapter Seventeen
The Blood Red Game
As noon approached on the following day I prepared to have a flyover look at Oswy and his army. They were a few miles away; had the land been clear, rather than forested, we might well have seen the dust cloud kicked up by thousands of feet on the march. Even this late in the year the weather had not yet turned. The harvest was safely in. The rains were on their way but had not yet turned dusty trails to muddy tracks. It was good fighting weather. I considered simply sending my spirit out, duly cloaked, but I was reminded of what Morwenna had said. A warrior walking through the camp near my tent was temporarily blinded by one of the others, who was wrapping himself up against the wind that had picked up. A corner of the fabric hit the walker across his eyes.
“Watch what you are doing you damn fool,” the blinded one barked.
“You should look where you’re going,” the other retorted.
“Me? You reckon it was my fault, do you?” He was reaching for his sword when a third soldier intervened.
“Hold up, both of you. There is no need for this. It was an accident, nothing more.” An apology was pulled from the offender and grudgingly accepted by the offendee, who was still rubbing his running eyes as he went on his way.
“Watch out for the cloak,” I told myself, and decided to find a better concealment. I scanned the trees and caught sight of - or rather, heard - a pigeon. It wasn’t hard to notice, it was making such a noise with its flapping and cooing. I settled down on my chair and focused on it. In a matter of a moment I was inside the bird. I took another minute or two to get used to the feel of its wings and claws, and then I took flight. The bird - with me in control of it - flew up to about three times tree height. From there I could see something going on in the trees to the north-west. Other birds were flapping out of the trees and squawking alarm and irritation at being disturbed. Crows, sparrows, thrushes and even hawks and falcons were all of the same mind; whatever was coming through their forest was dangerous and a wretched nuisance. So much, that the normal balance of nature that would have had sparrows and thrushes hiding from the birds of prey, were suspended. They were all focused on the same concern. I guided the pigeon over to take a closer look. It was about four miles, over a ridge and across a valley; it took about ten minutes to get there.
I could see something going on in the woods below. If I was to be able to estimate how big Oswy’s army was - and I was sure I had found it - I would need to get closer. But I could make a sweep around first. The eastern flank was the best part of half a mile from the central van, which was where the fuss was emanating from - to begin with. Across the woods there was the sound of more and more disturbance. If the Northumbrian army was intending to sneak up on Mercia’s, it had failed, dismally - and without any help from me. A beardless boy could have worked out what was going on.
The rearguard was a bit harder to locate, as the fuss and noise of avian upset continued long after the last of the army - and even the camp-followers - had moved on. If I had relied upon the birds for intelligence I would have leaped to the conclusion that the approaching forces were spread over the length of five miles or so. I ducked below the tree-line to make sure that was not true and confirmed my suspicions. Once above I made quick headway to the last of the followers, then ducked down into the trees again, to locate the rearmost ranks of the soldiers. When I was confident I had done so I flew up into the open again, to get a good idea of how far it was behind the front edge. Less than a mile, was the answer. Over to the right now, to the west, I could see the edge of the disturbance as the army advanced. Altogether, it was about a mile from one side to the other, and a bit less from front to back. All that was needed now was an estimate of its density, as it made its way through the forest. I could see evidence of a clearing ahead, not far behind the vanguard. I flew to it and settled on a branch on the further side, looking back towards the approaching troops.
The forces were quite thinly spread. Part of that would be the effect of the trees - it was impossible to maintain disciplined ranks when there were trunks, roots, branches and undergrowth in the way, seemingly all placed in the best pattern that could possibly be imagined, if causing obstruction was the aim. I sat on the branch and considered what this meant. The bird could never have done the sums and even I was going to be limited to a best estimate. The area, the way the men were spread out - I could not see that the army could be more than 4,000. I wondered if Oswy knew the size of the forces opposing him. He was outnumbered more than three to one.
I dropped off the branch without thinking about it and spread my wings to take me back to Penda’s camp. The lack of thought almost certainly saved the bird and spared me no little inconvenience as well. I would not have been killed but I would have been mentally hurt and seriously debilitated for a few days if the arrow that whistled just behind my tailfeathers had caught the pigeon where it was intended - straight in the middle of its breast.
Had I missed a hungry archer trying to catch his dinner? I looked around rapidly as I swung sharply left, then right. I couldn’t see a bow being raised anywhere. From the edge of my vision I caught a hint of something - as if the Earth shivered. I banked sharp left and pulled upwards as another arrow cut through the air just ahea
d of me. I circled quickly and confirmed that no archer was visible - but something was. I remembered Morwenna again. It wasn’t me she saw when I eavesdropped on her and Gwenhwfar; it was my cloaking she was aware of. This was the same. I could not see who was shooting at me but I could just make out their cloak.
The problem was, whoever it was could see me clearly, silhouetted against the sky - and I was as certain as I have ever been of anything that they knew I was inhabiting the bird. As I was now aware, I could feel another arrow was being prepared. I had to get to cover, quickly; it was now a matter of life and death. The pigeon’s life, and the potential for death even among Penda’s vastly superior forces. My job was to take surprise out of the equation and to give my employer the best chance of victory, at the lowest cost. If I was debilitated after being caught in a pigeon’s body as it died, I would not be able to help for several days, while I recovered.
I sensed the next arrow coming and bobbed right. It almost touched the end of my wing feathers.
There are two of them!
As the warning came the peril I was in became even clearer. The trees were less than a hundred yards away and I knew another arrow was on its way. I slowed as suddenly as I could, almost standing on my tail. The missile dropped out of the sky in front of me. By Toutatis and De Ana, this archer was good. Guided by the Sight, maybe, but he needed skill as well - and he was highly skilled.
The trees were just a dozen yards away now. I switched left without even thinking of it, then right, and dashed for the nearest cover. I made it with a breath to spare. One missile whistled past me and beyond, into the canopy, and a final arrow thudded into a tree-trunk to my right. I now had a different concern. I had flown into the woods at full speed and was faced with foliage that was effectively made into a hedge. I slowed down, veered and swerved as best I could but I could not avoid every single branch. Some caught me, a stab of pain in my left wing told me a feather had been torn out and a brief scrape to my breast drew a little blood as well. I landed on a branch to catch my breath and check for further damage. There wasn’t time for much more than a cursory glance before I had to be on my ay again. Not only was there a risk that the invisible archers would come looking for me, there was also the possibility that he would himself transport his spirit into a bird and seek me out. If he chose a bird of prey then my chances of escape were seriously reduced. Having confirmed that the wound on my breast was superficial and that the twiglet that caused it had not lodged in it, I took wing again. Once I was closer to the flocks of birds that were still venting their anger and irritation at the marching army, I felt confident to get above the treetops again. From there, I made the dash back to my own camp as fast as I could - keeping my eyes open all the while for arrows and birds of prey. The experience gave me a better understanding of the everyday life of birds such as this one. I would give them more respect in future.
With the pigeon safely returned to its nest I withdrew my spirit and opened my own eyes, back at my tent. I had attracted a circle of curious onlookers while I had been away.
“Are you well, my lord?”
“Yes, thank you. Why do you ask?”
“Your eyes had rolled back in your head. We tried to rouse you and none could get any response. We have sent for the king’s guard. We were worried.” I hauled myself unsteadily to my feet. Wolf whined and a couple of the onlookers rushed to help me.
“Thanks. Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your concern. It is nothing to be worried about. An episode of - of the falling-sickness. I suffer from it, from time to time. I’m glad it happened today, rather than in the middle of the battle!” I smiled, a bit weakly. Before the conversation could go any further, King Penda himself arrived. The onlookers bowed and left quickly, when ordered to.
“Are you all right,” he demanded. I nodded, assured him I was well and indicated that it would be better if we discussed the matter further away from sharp ears and prying eyes. He refused the suggestion of my tent and insisted that we go back to his pavilion, from which the curious could be kept well away. “What happened?”
“With my eyes? That always happens. They roll back and expose the whites, when I am Away having a vision or when I have sent out my spirit, as I did today. It can be disturbing to those who don’t know what is happening, I suppose. I didn’t think anything of it. I will be a bit more careful in the future.” He nodded at that.
“What did you see?”
“Oswy’s army is barely a third the size of yours. They are well-disciplined, as far as I could see, but they are no match in terms of numbers. But…” I hesitated.
“But what?”
“He definitely has some kind of Otherworld help. I was shot at by two archers, and they nearly got me - very nearly got me.”
“How could this happen?”
“I couldn’t see them. They were cloaked.” He paused before responding, moving over to the map-table, which had a representation of the expected battleground laid out in relief, complete with model soldiers. Each one represented about one hundred men. He picked up a small tray from Oswy’s side, holding twenty figures, and put it to one side. We had expected the Northumbrian army to be bigger.
“They might be coming by a different route. They might still be coming to his support,” I suggested.
“Did you see any sign of them?” I said that I hadn’t, but I had not had the chance to scout beyond the immediate vicinity. “We will deal with what is in front of us.” He walked around the table again, moving a column here and a squad there, and then putting them back where they had come. The commanders all knew what they had to do and had been drilling their forces in their duties; this was no time for wholesale changes to the battle-plan.
“How concerned should I be about these cloaked adversaries?”
“To be honest, I don’t know,” I said. “I had taken over a pigeon; they did not send a bird of prey after me, although there were plenty to choose from. Maybe they weren’t expecting me but I would think that unlikely. They might not be expecting me, personally, but they would be expecting someone with skills similar to mine. The fact that they didn’t take over a falcon or a hawk and come after me suggests that I caught them by surprise.”
“How likely is that?” I breathed deeply and thought before answering.
“Well… I have to confess, I did not expect them, nor to be attacked in that way. I was expecting to be able to see a significant disturbance - a darkness - somewhere in the army, from what you told me the wise women said. I expected to see it clearly. It wasn’t there - they are well concealed. As you suggested, they are not accompanying Oswy openly. They, in their turn, might have expected to see my spirit, watching from above them. Maybe we both miscalculated.”
“We cannot afford miscalculations,” He growled, and rubbed his greying beard. “Are you sure of the numbers?”
“I can tell you what I saw. The column is a mile from left to right, and a little less than that from vanguard to rearguard. From the intensity of the troops’ deployment in the woods, my estimate is four thousand men-at-arms.”
“No more?”
“Not of any significance. Possibly less.” He nodded again, thoughtfully.
“I was told there would be more. Maybe eight thousand…” he almost muttered. I said nothing. Where had he get that information from? Spies? Rumour? Hearsay? It would be unlike him to listen to unsubstantiated gossip. “Six thousand coming to the field…” he ruminated again. He looked up again, fixing me with a sharp gaze. “Ciaran, could you have a look again? Could you look more widely, make sure that you have got the measure of his forces? Can you do so without risking your life?”
“Yes, I can. Now that I know they are there I will be prepared. They won’t catch me by surprise again. Of course - I won’t catch them by surprise again, either.” I smiled, ruefully. Penda nodded in response, without a trace of humour.
“Do what you can.” I assured him that I would. He offered me his own falcon to possess, if I wanted it, but I
turned him down. I would send out just my spirit this time - I wanted to go much higher into the air than even a beautiful bird like his pride and joy could manage.
“I will have something to eat and then undertake the task. Does that suit you?”
“How long will your scouting take? We do not have unlimited time.”
“Not long. But I do need physical strength, as well as mental. A light meal would be helpful.” He nodded and dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
“Go and get something from my kitchen. And come back here when you decide to scout. I want your report the very moment you get it.”
Half an hour later I was back and settling into a high-backed chair, set some way from the map-table. My faithful dog, Wolf, lay down at my feet. A few of the Mercian army’s commanders were gathered, along with a handful of allies and tributaries. Not Cadfael, I noticed. It was rumoured that he was turning to Christianity; if that was true he would probably prefer to avoid seeing me ‘in the act of witchcraft’, as he would have it, no doubt. I deliberately relaxed myself, focusing on a piece of gilt fabric that was catching the light in a particular way. Specks of dust traced a dignified dance in a sunbeam. I sighed and let my spirit leave my body. I could see the tent and its occupants, most of whom were looking at me. I checked that my cord was in place, linking my umbilicus to my body’s. It looked as thin as gossamer but I knew it was as tough as iron. All was as it should be.
Lockeran (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 2) Page 18
