Camulod Chronicles Book 6 - The Sorcer part 2: Metamorphosis

by Whyte, Jack

  Behind me, I heard Derek bark a gruff laugh at Benedict's quip. The king of Ravenglass sat astride a horse that was as big as my Germanicus. Derek had changed greatly since reaching Camulod. His resolve to fight no more had given way beneath an increasing belief that Ironhair and his demented ally Carthac should be put down once and for all. A king himself, Derek of Ravenglass had a sense of natural justice that offered no quarter to usurpers. He now wore a uniform that would have marked him as a Roman tribune in earlier times, complete with scarlet cloak, plumed helmet and richly figured, polished leather cuirasses front and back.

  I looked from Derek to Benedict and shook my head in mock regret. "Cynics! I am surrounded by cynics and pessimists. No wonder we are faring less than well here in Cambria."

  I kneed my horse gently forward, moving beyond the others of my command group to where I could see Bedwyr clearly and he could see me awaiting him. I remained motionless as he put his mount to the slope in front of me, and in a short time he had reached the summit, blowing almost as hard as his horse. He had grown taller and filled out impressively in the months we had spent together in Cambria, and I found myself wondering if Arthur had made such evident progress, wherever he was in the northeast.

  Bedwyr brought his horse to a halt and jumped down. He approached me and then drew himself to attention with a stiff salute, bringing his right fist to smack against his left breast and gazing up wide eyed to where I sat looking down at him.

  "Legate Commander Merlyn!"

  I nodded to him, repressing an urge to smile at his frowning earnestness. "Stand easy, Trooper, and make your report."

  He sucked in a deep breath and stood even straighter, his elbows slightly bent and braced to hold his body motionless, his clenched fists resting slightly forward of his hipbones. Then, in a clipped and formal voice very different from his normal tone, he rattled off his message.

  "Legate Commander, the Legate Philip wishes to report that he has been unable to make significant contact with the enemy forces opposing him. He has penetrated the territories assigned to his attention on this sweep during the past six days, as planned and according to his instructions, and has encountered no resistance. He wishes to report that the territories and all the hills between his present position, fifteen miles directly north from here, and your present position, including all the coastal region, are free of enemy infestation. His foot cohorts have swept the crests and upper slopes without incident, and his cavalry forces, split between the command of squadron tribunes Falvo and Tessius, have completed their patrols of the lower slopes and valleys on both sides of the range of hills being invested. They joined ranks two days ago, having encountered nothing to impede their progress towards the meeting point.

  "The Legate's objectives have been achieved, and he now holds the ground as commanded. He awaits additional instructions, but respectfully informs you that his northernmost observers yesterday reported a passing fleet, holding far out to sea but heading swiftly southward, with the potential of changing course towards your present position. The storm last night, the Legate suggests, might have scattered or destroyed them, but he dispatched me at the utmost speed at first light to bring the tidings. The fleet consists of one large bireme, accompanied by an unconfirmed number of galleys, too far offshore to be counted accurately but estimated to be no less than fifteen craft. Legate Commander!"

  The final salutation was accompanied by another crashing salute, indicating that the report was complete. I expelled air sibilantly between compressed lips and then nodded to him. "Thank you, Trooper. An excellent, succinct report. No questions. Report now to Tertius Lucca, if you will, and have him assign you to a place where you can eat and sleep, once you have cared for your mount.

  When you are rested, you may come back to me for further instructions. "

  Bedwyr saluted me again, then turned and left. I watched him mount and ride away, then turned to my companions.

  "Same story, but this time there's a fleet out there. They'll probably sail by, but we had better be prepared, just in case Ironhair has decided to annoy us. " I looked up at the sky, still clear and cloudless. "Gather the troop commanders, if you please. We'll meet by the command tent in half an hour. Thank you. "

  As they began to disperse, Donuil caught my eye and pointed to his chest, one eyebrow raised, asking me mutely if I wished him to remain. I shook my head and waved him away. Moments later I was alone.

  I looked about me, to be sure that no one was paying me attention, then kneed Germanicus slightly downhill on the landward side of the summit, towards a narrow, three sided niche in the cliff overlooking the valley Bedwyr had crossed a short time earlier. I had found and used the spot the day before, when I had been equally in need of solitude.. Once in there, I knew I was concealed from all eyes.

  I dismounted and removed my heavy helmet, wiping my brow and the inside rim of the headpiece with one of the soft, daintily bordered kerchiefs Tress had made for me for just that purpose. Then I stretched hugely, rising to my tiptoes, and yawned, kneading the soreness from my buttocks. I rummaged in my saddlebag for the whetstone I carried there, unhooked and unsheathed my sword, then made myself comfortable on a rock outcrop that formed a natural chair against the sloping cliff face. I began to sharpen my weapon then, allowing my thoughts to come and go with the rhythmic, abrasive sweep of the stone's surface against the keen edge of my blade. Bedwyr maintained my weapons perfectly, as part of his training discipline, but the habits of a lifetime remained intact, and I found security in sharpening my own blades at least once each day. Then, as my mind was lulled by the sameness of the mechanical actions I was performing, my thoughts began to flow more smoothly.

  Four months had passed since I last spoke with Ambrose, and more than three since I had arrived in Cambria at the head of Camulod's two legions. Since then we had been waging a make believe war, marching and countermarching the length and breadth of Cambria, it seemed, attempting to come to grips with an enemy as ethereal and insubstantial as the clouds and mists that shrouded the mountains in the early mornings. And yet the enemy was very real and numerous. We saw them frequently, in the distances ahead of us, but they remained frustratingly beyond our grasp, for the most part, melting away into nothingness as we approached.

  From time to time in the earlier days of the campaign, a. foolhardy group of them, as frustrated as we were by this inactivity, would try to turn our flank, hiding in the bracken as we passed by and then springing from concealment to attack us from the rear. Our strategy had been designed to encourage that, however, and to punish such incursions swiftly and mercilessly, enfolding the interlopers and destroying them. The time soon came when no one tried it again.

  . In the first days of the campaign, in truth, we had been too successful. Our arrival had attracted great attention, and a large army of the enemy, numbering several thousand, had assembled to await us and drive us back out of Cambria. Unaware of the impending confrontation, I had split my forces a few days earlier, sending half of my troops, most of them infantry, accompanied by our five hundred Scouts, southward and west along the coastal plain under the command of Tertius Lucca, to capture the harbours of Caerdyff and Caerwent, driving the occupying Cornishmen out and denying access to their supply vessels. In consequence, the force I commanded when we came to face Ironhair's host was largely made up of cavalry. Less than one thousand of my three thousand infantry remained to me, along with two thousand heavy horse.

  Warned only slightly in advance that an army had materialized under cover of the night and awaited us a mere three miles distant, in an open, rising valley where they held the high ground, I had been forced to make my dispositions in some haste, and to assume a greater risk than I might otherwise have chosen to consider. I was bolstered however, by my firm belief that the odds would be in my favour if our most fundamental assumption was correct: that our heavy cavalry would be an unknown factor in the eyes of Ironhair's mercenaries. Allowing myself no time to waver, since I truly had none,
I split the infantry into two five hundred man cohorts and sent them forward in formation, marching ten abreast, each division forming a block fifty ranks deep, with the cohortal standard bearers marching between the two. Ahead of these and behind them, vanguard and rearguard, I sent two heavy formations, each of two hundred cavalry, again riding ten abreast by twenty deep, the entire progression flanked by one mobile unit of fifty troopers on each side, deployed as a defensive screen. The result was a long, vulnerable looking, greatly extended line that I hoped would invite instant attack from both sides.

  My remaining force of cavalry, fifteen hundred strong, I split into three equal groups. Two were sent off on either side of the route the main force would take, instructed to find the quickest, easiest way to circumvent the enemy while remaining undetected, and then to hold themselves prepared to attack from either flank upon my signal. I held the third group close to me, hanging well back behind the main advance and moving forward slowly in an extended line abreast, five ranks deep.

  As I have said, my plan, extemporaneous as it was, worked all too well. The host we faced was almost leaderless, with no general, no strategist ruling the various contingents to give direction to their strength. Ironhair was far distant, we discovered later, and Carthac with him. The army that we faced was an amalgam of what remained in south Cambria, assembled on a whim of opportunity and composed of differing levies of mercenaries. Lesser leaders were there in plenty, even in profusion, but none who was there possessed the power to lead any group other than his own, and not one of them thought to send out scouts to verify our strength. Because of that, my two converging units of troopers, sent out to slip around the enemy's flanks, were able to occupy the prime high ground at the head of the valley unnoticed and unopposed, after the enemy threw away their one advantage by instantly quitting the high ground they held to charge downhill, with howls of glee, against the long, thin line they saw approaching them along the valley floor. As the howling masses charged, the cavalry contingent facing them, at the head of the column, appeared to wilt and flee, falling back and away to either side, withdrawing at full speed and leaving the long files of infantry exposed to the oncoming horde.

  None of the attackers had ever dealt with Roman tactics, it was plain. None of them noticed that the fleeing cavalry regrouped immediately, on either side of the phalanx of the rearguard, which had stopped at the first sign of attack, and then stood firm. None saw—or if they did, they were too far committed to regroup—that the exposed infantry was regrouping rapidly as well, deploying outwards upon itself to form two hollow squares, each three men deep, each forming an unbreakable, four sided defensive wall before the nearest enemy could close to within throwing distance.

  As the first waves of attackers began to throw themselves uselessly and suicidally against the standing squares, I arrived in the valley at the head of my five hundred and aligned my troops to the right of the rearguard. No one sought to interfere with any of us. The fighting was contained about the squares of infantry, who were having no , difficulty standing off the enemy. I looked up to the head of the valley, where my other thousand cavalry sat waiting, less than a mile away, commanded by Tessius. I realized then that I had one more order to deliver before signalling them down. I called young Bedwyr to me and sent him galloping, escorted by six troopers, to tell Tessius to lead his charge westward, downhill along the line of the squares to my left. He was to charge immediately upon receiving my order, and I would move when he did, leading my forces upward to the east, on the right of the squares. On either side, we would trample the enemy beneath our hooves, while remaining far enough away from the squares themselves to present no threat to our own infantry. I watched Bedwyr and his escort gallop away and settled back to wait for him to make the transit of the field. Nothing is as difficult for a leader as having to wait, while in front of him his men are being killed.

  Even in the short time it took for Bedwyr to ride up the valley floor, however, it was becoming evident that we had won a victory. The enemy were bloodthirsty and fierce, ferocious and undisciplined, but they were not stupid. They had already recognized the folly of throwing themselves against the unwavering rows of our shields and spears, and now many of them hung back, their weapons dangling from their hands, looking about them to the east and west, peering towards where our cavalry sat motionless and filled with menace. I saw several men running this way and that, exhorting others, tugging at arms and clothing, and then a barely discernible progress began away from the fight as groups and bands began to disengage and move away.

  Next came the brazen peal of Tessius's trumpets,, and his long line of men surged into motion. My own trumpets sounded immediately, and I stripped the sheath from my sword and sank my spurs into Germanicus, sending him forward.

  It was slaughter—nothing less. One pass we made, from west to east, and scarce a living man was left to face us. They had outnumbered us, it seemed, by almost a full thousand, but we had lost less than a score of our infantry and captured half a hundred of theirs. The others, nigh on four full thousand of diem, lay dead. Several score escaped the field and we made no attempt to hinder them. We left the dead to rot where they had fallen, since we had neither the time nor the means to bury them, and left that dismal place to be whispered of by our enemies, and to be cleansed in time by birds, animals, insects and the purifying actions of the weather.

  From that day forward, no enemy had stood against us. The report I had received today from Philip had become routine. We had no belligerent opposition in Cambria, despite the fact that the Pendragon lands still swarmed with Ironhair's mercenaries and the war of invasion was being fought daily. The enemy was near, but always out of our reach. Yet we had tried, and had come close to winning. Twice now we had been successful in driving the enemy ahead of us like partridges, pushing them towards the coast, but on each occasion, thanks to some form of signalling or communication that might tempt a man to believe in magic, a fleet of galleys had been waiting just offshore to spirit them away to safety before we could close with them. Something new was called for, but to this point I had been unable to find any alternative strategy that might offer hope for more success.

  Our campaign along the southern coast, on the other hand, where our objectives were fixed towns and harbours, had been hearteningly successful and our victory complete. There was no place now in all of the southern half of Cambria where Ironhair could land his vessels without fear of being attacked and losing his cargo. Nowadays, his fleets plied north and south, maintaining a safe distance from the shore, and the few new levies that his vessels ferried must land in the far north, then make their way southwards through inhospitable terrain that was filled with dour and bitter enemies.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of a rolling stone, and then came Donuil's voice from above and behind me, calling to me that my officers were assembled and waiting. I sighed and rose to my feet, then put away my stone and sheathed my sword before replacing my helmet and climbing up onto Germanicus, who made his way without urging towards the sound of Donuil's voice. The big Celt sat waiting for me, his face expressionless, and when I drew level with him he reined his own horse about and rode knee to knee with me.

  "Look yonder," he said. I turned and gazed along the coastline to my right, shielding my eyes against the water reflected brightness of the sun.

  "What? I can't see anything."

  Donuil was squinting, too. "Neither can I, now, " he murmured. "But the big bireme's out there, just a dot on the skyline. Derek saw it first and gave voice. "

  I stared hard now, squinting almost directly into the brightness, but it was hopeless; there was nothing to see except scintillating sheets of blinding brilliance. "What about the other ships accompanying it? How many?"

  We were headed steeply downhill now, towards the command tent on the level turf above the sloping beach. 'Too far away to see, let alone count, " Donuil said. "But you'll see better, once we get down there. The angle's better, and there's less re
flection. "

  Sure enough, when we reached the level land above the beach the coruscating brilliance of the sun on the waves was greatly diminished and I could see the huge shape of the bireme, clearly accompanied now by a host of lesser ships. I reached the command tent to find everyone staring off to sea, talking among themselves and unaware of my approach.

  I dismounted and walked towards the table set up on the rostrum outside the tent. "Well, gentlemen, " I called. "Does anyone have any advice to offer on the disposition of this fleet? Will it come down on us, think you? Or is it merely passing us by to relieve some harbour to the east of us?"

  Huw Strongarm swung around to face me and approached. "They won't come near us here. "

  "Why not, Huw?"

  "There's no place for them to land, for one thing, other than this beach behind us, and it slopes too much to let them close to us. By the time they disembarked and charged this far, through water up to their waists, they'd all be dead and we'd be out of arrows. "

  I nodded. "Right. So they won't be coming here. But they'll see us clearly enough. Is there a disadvantage to us in that?"

  The other officers, some forty of them, had surrounded us by now, and stood listening to what we were saying. The big Pendragon captain shrugged, clearly having nothing more to add, and I changed topic.

  "How long would it take you to arrange for me to meet with Uderic, Huw?" I ignored the sudden buzz that greeted my mention of the name of the mercurial man who had sprung up to replace the fallen Dergyll ap Griffyd as leader of the Pendragon Celts. I held up my hand to still the noise as Huw considered my surprising question.

  "Uderic?' He shook his grizzled head. "Who knows? It might take me a month to find out where he is. He has no trust in me, nor I in him. Once I find him, though, if I can hold him down for long enough to listen to what I have to say, it should be an easy matter to arrange a meeting between you. Why would you want to speak with Uderic?'