by Whyte, Jack
"Damnation, Rufe, you make me feel stupid!"
"Why? There's no reason to. You and Ironhair are completely different creatures. I'm not so constrained by your ideas of honour and nobility, so I can think like Ironhair. I might also be wrong."
I stared at him, trying to read his mind. "Aye, you might, but you're probably right."
"Perhaps." His face showed no trace of self satisfaction. "We have no way of knowing one way or the other—"
"But we should plan accordingly..."
He nodded. "We need a plan that will work in both eventualities, and be flexible enough to change halfway, if necessary."
"But you are adamant I shouldn't trust Uderic."
Rufio glanced from Donuil to the others, shaking his head, and then turned back to me with a wry look. "You didn't need me to tell you that, my friend. Did you? Would you have trusted him if I had not spoken?"
I shook my head gently. "No, Rufe, I would not, because I never have. I had not seen so far into the folds of policy as you have taken me, but I would not have ridden blindly into Uderic's clutches. But now, let's talk about what's likely to transpire here. I believe that, no matter what happens, and simply because Uderic is so loudly vocal in his distrust of me, he is likely to insist that our meeting be held in some place safe for him, secluded so that he can control the gathering. He's also almost certain to insist that I bring only a few men with me. He'll allow me an escort, but not a large one. I know—" I held up my hand to forestall his protest. "That opens up the possibility of treachery. I think, nonetheless, that that is the way it will he."
Benedict cleared his throat. "That ship went west, at great speed. I don't know much about these things, but it looked to me as though the rowers couldn't sustain a pace like that for very long, so they might not be going very far."
Rufio was watching him, frowning slightly. "Don't follow you, Ben."
Benedict grinned a small, unamused grin. "Be interesting to see what direction Huw comes in from. Should it be west, I'll be inclined to wear ring mail beneath my armour for the next few weeks."
Donuil spoke for the first time since he had sat down. "We'll need two groups, Cay, one mounted, the other afoot, with bows—Pendragons. You should have no less than ten men in each group, the first to ride openly, the other to follow unseen."
I looked at Benedict. He shrugged and dipped his head, pushing his palms together. "As many men as we can take, in both groups, but no less than ten on horseback. I'm riding with you, and I agree with Rufe. I think we're going to ride into treachery and betrayal, so we had best be prepared for it."
NINE
The hillside across from where we stood was a vast expanse of dun coloured bareness, with a faint wash of green here and there from the moss, lichen and occasional patch of stunted grass that maintained a tenuous hold on the naked rock. Against that background, a single, jagged patch of dark, lush green stood out like a scab, crusting a deep, vertical gash carved by the waters of the stream that fell from the summit to join the narrow river far below. Across the broad stream bed, cut deep into the rock over the course of aeons and sheltered from the prevailing winds that scoured the open hillsides, hardy, indomitable trees had rooted and grown to fill the ravine completely, their ancient trunks and gnarled boughs coated with the thick mosses that made their appearance so startlingly stark. Slightly more than halfway down the stream's chute, the midmorning sun flashed bright reflections from a cataract that leaped from the trees to fall down a short but sheer cliff face before vanishing again among the trees below.
As I watched, I saw a man come into view, balance briefly on the cataract's edge and lower himself cautiously to arm's length before leaping sideways, into the trees and out of sight again.
"That's fifty, and they're still coming, " Huw grunted.
I answered without looking at him. "Fifty seven. " And then, as yet another moved forward to teeter, lower himself and leap, "And he's fifty eight. "
Ten days had passed since Ironhair's deputation had approached us. We stood now on a hilltop close by the west coast of Cambria, screened from detection by a fringe of bushes, watching Rufio's prophesied treachery and betrayal unfolding as the long file of men made their way with extreme caution down the steep hill on the other side of the narrow valley that divided us from them.
One of Huw Strongarm's men had sat among these cautious prowlers the previous night and learned much from them. They were Ironhair's mercenaries, mainly, guided by a few Cambrian locals, and their plan was to scale the hill from the coastal side and make their way unseen down the deep ravine and into the woods along the valley bottom, where they would wait for us to cross the harrow bridge over the swift flowing river, and then seal it behind us. Huw's man, whose name was Gwynn Blood-Eye, had slipped away silently and brought the word to us immediately, travelling by moonlight for most of the night and reaching our encampment just at dawn, so that by the time the first of the Cornwall mercenaries breasted the summit across from where we now stood concealed, there was no sign of life on the valley floor below, and I was safely ensconced with my retinue on the hillside facing them.
Below us, in the valley bottom, lay the river, the confined belt of forest that lined it on both sides, and the narrow, stone arched bridge built by the legions of Paulinus four hundred years before in his campaign to wipe out Cambria's Druids. Beyond the bridge, the ancient legionary road swung north again, following the river's edge until it emerged onto a plain formed by the convergence of three valleys. More than a hundred additional mercenaries lay concealed on the flat topped hill that divided the two most northern of those valleys. We had discovered their presence the day before, thanks again to Huw's amazing hill scouts.
The design was clear: we were to ride out into the plain following the ancient road, which would lead us beneath the slopes where our murderers lay hidden. When they attacked, we would either fight or flee, and it must have seemed likely to them that we might do both, outnumbered as we would be. Those who remained to fight would die there, and those who fled would die at the hands of the group behind them, waiting at the bridge. The flaw in the design lay in the fact that they expected twenty of us to ride into their ambush, whereas they would, in fact, find fifty of us, backed by fifteen hundred more.
Rufio's suspicions had had a salutary effect on me. Everything we had planned, from the moment he had so eloquently stated his beliefs, had been designed to encompass and eliminate the threats we were all convinced would now materialize. Philip had returned quickly, summoned by Bedwyr, and had agreed immediately with Rufio's interpretation of events. Thereafter, as our plans progressed and we became accustomed to the steps we had decided to take, the scope of our thinking developed and our manipulation of events and probabilities had grown more deft, more sure handed and more confident.
Connor had returned on the fourth day, flushed with triumph at the success of his raid on Ironhair's home base in Tintagel. He had been virtually unopposed and had achieved complete surprise, capturing two of the six galleys moored below Ironhair's clifftop fortifications and burning the other four. After that, secure in their possession of the seaward approaches, his men had ranged far inland, seizing great stores of food, drink and booty from the supplies in Cornwall storehouses, all of them destined for Ironhair's armies. Our own army feasted on the beaches on the night of their return, gorging themselves, after four months of campaign rations, on the food, wine, mead and casks of ale Connor's fleet had pillaged.
Connor had listened that night to our suspicions about Ironhair and Uderic, and had agreed with our reasoning and our proposed responses without a blink. His sole amendment was to suggest acting with even greater strength. He believed we should field every unit at our disposal, and he argued that, were we to do what must be done, and do it stealthily and subtly, we could turn all threats to our immense advantage. To illustrate his point, he gave us all a lesson in fleet warfare, scratching a battle plan in the dirt by the fireside and demonstrating how his individual
galleys could combine, in line abreast or line astern, to concentrate the heaviest weight on the enemy's weakest point. As he spoke, I looked from face to face among my troop commanders, some score of whom had gathered around our fire to listen. All of them, standing or sitting, were bent forward, narrow eyed with concentration. When he had finished, Connor looked up at me, and every eye in the assembly turned to see what I would say.
"So you would have me take my entire strength into the hills to this upcoming meeting, and you would prefer it if I could achieve that without their being seen? Do I understand you clearly?"
He looked at Derek, one eyebrow raised high, and then his teeth flashed in a great grin. "Perfectly!"
"Wonderful, Connor. Now would you have any idea how I might do that? I know there are stories among my troops that I was something of a sorcerer in my youth, gifted in the ways of the gods. And I know Derek, there, for one, believes me to have mystical and superhuman attributes. To this time, however, I have never found a way to transport a thousand men and five hundred cavalry invisibly. But that, apparently, is what you'd have me do. How? If either you or Derek, with whom you seem to be sharing something humorous, could suggest some means of achieving that, I would be most grateful."
'Tomorrow," he said, his grin still in place.
'Tomorrow. What about tomorrow?"
"Huw Strongarm might come back."
"Aye, he might, and... ? Is there significance to that? How will it help me take my army unseen through the mountains?"
"That might depend upon where you wish to go." Connor glanced around the assembly, catching Derek's eye again. When he spoke again to me, no trace of humour was left on his face.
"Look you, Merlyn, you suspect collusion between Ironhair and Uderic, no? Well, in order to collude, they have to take you to some place close by the sea, for Ironhair will not stray far inland from his ships and his escape route, I promise you. There's a terrible attraction in the safety of a heaving deck when your enemies are all behind you, on dry land. Two things occur to me. Either they will combine to wipe you out, expecting you to come as Uderic instructs you to, with but a few strong, trusted men. Or they will ambush you along the route, with Ironhair attacking you before you get to Uderic, thereby leaving Uderic's hands clean. They won't try either method far inland. Deep enough into the central mountains, the glens and hills will work against them as much as for them. So they'll keep you close to the coast, where they can use the terrain to their own advantage.
"As soon as Huw returns we'll know the where and when. Once we do, then I can take your thousand infantry along the coast in my own ships and land them safely and unseen, long before you reach the meeting place. That was Derek's idea, and he would come with us, being more at home on a galley than on a horse. You travel inland with your scouting force, your full five hundred, but you yourself ride out in front with thirty or forty men, leaving the other hundreds to follow behind you, well out of sight of spying eyes. Huw's own Pendragons—how many of those are there?"
"Some two hundred, all told. He took less than a hundred with him, and the rest are here with us now. "
"Then Huw's two hundred, native to this land, can throw a broad screen out in front of you, dealing with any prying eyes they find. With them covering every stride of land for two full miles ahead of you and out on both flanks, no one should come near enough to you to see the force that follows you. Remember, they will expect you to have no suspicion in you at all. You are riding to convince a potential ally that you wish him naught but well, so you'll ride openly, secure in the safe conduct you've been offered. "
He was right, of course, and we adapted our plans accordingly.
Huw arrived the following day, and I knew from the moment I first saw his face that he was unhappy with the outcome of his mission. I took him aside immediately and asked him to say nothing until I had assembled Connor, Rufio, Benedict, Derek and Donuil.
His report was brief and succinct: he had found Uderic not far distant from our current position, to the west of us, after first having sought him further to the north. Uderic had received him with barely concealed hostility and had listened to my message with disdain, but had then quite patently allowed himself to be convinced that it would be to his advantage to meet with me. He had set a time and a place: seven days from that day, on the site of the abandoned Roman fort of Moridunum. I recognized the name of the place, from my readings in my grandfather's journals. I knew it lay some two miles inland from the sea, on a narrow but navigable river, and it had been the westernmost Roman fortification in south Cambria, one of the few that had remained fully garrisoned until the legions were withdrawn from Britain. I was to come to Uderic there, escorted by no more than thirty men, and he would send out word to permit me safe conduct through "his" territories.
Uderic had appeared ill at ease in committing to this meeting, betraying a shiftiness that was all the more upsetting to Huw simply because of its inscrutable nature. Nothing he had said or done had been identifiably contrived or false, yet Huw had had the distinct impression that nothing truly was as it appeared to be.
As soon as Huw had finished, I told him about Retorix's visit and exactly what we had decided in its aftermath. The big man's concern fell away immediately, replaced by visible relief as he listened to what I had to say, and then he joined the rest of us in reviewing what would happen next. Yes, he told Connor, he had a score of men among his most trusted warriors who were native to the region around the old fort at Moridunum, and he would send them with the fleet, to guide our foot soldiers, and the others, a full complement of two hundred and forty bowmen, would serve as a scouting screen for our cavalry in their westward advance through Cambria.
On the morning following Huw's arrival, I rode at the head of our five hundred Scouts, accompanied by Donuil and by Philip, who would command the main cavalry body advancing some two miles behind us. Huw and his twelve score of bowmen had left at dawn, three hours ahead of us, to give themselves time to separate and form a far flung, semicircular protective fan about our front. Benedict and Rufio remained behind with all our infantry. They would depart the following morning, aboard Connor's fleet, and would arrive within a few miles of our destination no less than one full day in advance of our arrival.
The last man lowered himself down the edge of the cataract across from us. After he passed from sight, I waited for a count of one hundred before turning my head to where Huw leaned against a tree trunk.
"I think that's all of them. I counted seventy-one. "
Huw grunted. "I must have lost count, then, because I only saw sixty-four. Anyway, you're right, they're all gone now. The first of them must be in the trees at the bottom by this time. We won't see them again until they attach"
"Well then, let's give them something to attack. How long will it take you to reach your men down there?" Fully half of Huw's bowmen had crossed the river bridge much earlier and were now securely hidden in the forest to the north of it.
"Less than a half hour, to get there unseen. There's a ravine on this side, too, just beyond the bow of the hillside there, on the right. It leads almost directly to where I told my men to wait for me. They'll have a rope across the river for me by this time. "
I nodded. "Go, then, and make good time. It will take me half an hour to reach my own people, and half an hour longer to lead them back along the river road towards the bridge.
Once we're across, they'll move to close the bridge at our backs, and that's when your bowmen can hit them. We'll ride on until we reach you and your forward group, and then we'll lead the enemy right back' into your trap. " I stopped, seeing the worried look on his face. "What's wrong?"
"What if they're impatient? They outnumber you. What happens if they attack you, instead of merely letting you ride past?"
"Hmm. " I shrugged my shoulders. "I doubt they will. They're mercenaries. Some might have bows, but most would have to fight us hand to hand, them on foot, us on horseback and unblooded yet. I don't think that
is likely. But, if they do, well then, we'll have to hope your bowmen are as accurate as ever and come to our rescue swiftly. " I held up my hand in a farewell salute, then watched him as he nodded and then turned away, making his way along the crest of the hill to where he would enter the ravine for his downhill journey. When he had disappeared, I turned and made my own way to the rear of the crest, where I had left Germanicus haltered safely below the skyline.
The engagement was short and punitive.
I crossed the bridge at the head of my fifty horsemen and no one sought to challenge us. The forest around us, briefly severed by the rushing channel of the narrow, turbulent river, lay silent and seemingly empty of life, though I knew Ironhair's people were there and searched for them diligently as we passed. Nothing stirred in the fastnesses of the woodland beyond the thick fringe of shrubs and saplings lining the narrow road, and I marvelled at the stealth possessed by such men as these surrounding us. Our cavalry were forthright and noisy in their progress, resigned to the impossibility of muffling or disguising the metallic chink of military harness and the creaks and groans of leather saddlery. Ironhair's men and Huw's, on the other hand, moved in stealth, in complete silence. I knew we were being watched by scores of eyes as we passed by, but I took satisfaction in my awareness that the watchers, in turn, were unaware that a full hundred of Huw Strongarm's men lay securely concealed behind them.
Once across the stone arch, moving in columns of four, we pressed straight ahead, riding at an easy lope and following the road as it swept northward to our right, so that we were soon out of sight of anyone on the bridge and riding between the dense banks of close packed trees that fringed the roadway on both sides. Less than a mile now lay between us and the site of the ambush. As we approached the end of that stretch, I signalled to the men behind me and slowed down to a walk just before we reached the limits of the wood that screened us from the valley ahead. I saw a stirring in the greenery ahead and to my right, and Huw Strongarm stepped forward to the edge of the road. He carried his strung longbow in his left hand, and as I reined in he spoke up.
