by Tony Riches
One of his men was concerned. ‘We are never going to stop a whole army. It would take twice as many men!’
‘We have a good supply of arrows and bows, but we are the only archers,’ Neb agreed. ‘We’ll do what we can to slow them down then run for the hills,’ he joked, secretly wondering if any of them were going to get back alive.
The bishop’s housekeeper Anwen had done her work well, as there was time to choose a position with good cover where the road narrowed. Neb’s archers took turns to keep a lookout for the warriors arriving and did not have long to wait, as the Du could soon be heard approaching. The men of Ynys Mon had grown complacent with a string of easy victories. They had been told that the way ahead of them was poorly defended, so were not prepared for the hail of arrows unleashed by Neb and his archers. The entire first rank of the marching warriors fell before they even realised it was an ambush and the rest ran from the road in disarray.
Neb had made sure each of his archers had stuck a plentiful supply of arrows in the ground at their feet to increase the rate of fire. It was an old archer’s trick for as well as making the arrows easy to grab, the dirt would do no good to any of the enemy they managed to hit. Most of the archers could achieve at least ten shots a minute and they fired the arrows without waiting any commands or taking time to carefully choose their targets, sacrificing accuracy for quantity in an effort to make the Du think they were facing a much larger force. They had been lucky that the warriors did not wear armour and were taken completely by surprise.
The Du quickly retreated well out of range of Neb and his men, with many dead and even more wounded. The heads of the Gwyn arrows were barbed and attached with warm beeswax, so when the warriors tried to remove them by pulling on the shaft, the heads would fall off deep inside the wound. The only solution was to cut deeper to retrieve the barbed arrow head then cauterise the wound with hot irons to stop the bleeding and reduce the risk of infection. The warriors were supposed to endure this without making a sound, but Neb and his men heard yelling and the occasional scream of agony and could only guess at the damage they had inflicted on the Du army.
As soon as they thought it was safe, Neb ordered his men to return to the castle, not realising that a group of Du warriors had already cut off their escape. Most of their arrows were now gone but they were all armed with swords and many also carried knives. Nothing in their training had prepared them for warriors with spears. Neb was the first to die, with a Du spear in his chest, and two other archers also fell dying before they had even drawn their swords. The rest of his men put up a brave fight, as they had no experience of hand to hand fighting. It had been costly, but before long the Du were celebrating yet another victory.
*
King Gwayne rode out with Kane to the hills north of the castle. He had just received word that Pennard had fallen to the Du and was in an angry mood.
‘I need Sir Padrig and his men,’ he said. ‘Send another rider. It would be good to have him here.’
‘These are difficult times, my lord. I suspect that our riders are being taken by the Du, as there has been no word from the queen or any reply to your message to King Athelstan.’
‘Athelstan has his own problems with the Vikings in the north, but I am worried about the queen. It was a mistake not to bring her here.’
‘I have a suggestion, my lord.’
‘What is it?’
‘I know of a good man, named Cade. He is not a soldier but assistant to Archbishop Renfrew and has good knowledge of the area. He travels in the name of the church so should be able to escape the attention of the Du.’
‘Good. Have him track down Sir Padrig.’
‘I was thinking to send him to find Queen Elvina?’
‘Now that Vorath had control of the west it will not be long before he turns his attention to Caerphilly. We need Sir Padrig’s men, so we will have to send someone else for the queen.’ Gwayne knew the long haired man was right. Elvina was in real danger now but so were they all. She would have to look after herself.
*
Cade had no idea that the Archbishop was dead. All he knew was that Renfrew had gone to see the Bishops of the Du to see if he could shorten the war. He was often away for weeks at a time and it was a long journey to the northern coast, so he didn’t expect to see him back again for some time.
As an employee of the church, he was surprised to be summoned urgently to the royal rooms at the castle. He waited apprehensively outside the king’s meeting room, wondering what the king would require of him. An elderly servant appeared in the doorway and ushered him in. Cade went into the king’s room and was surprised at how dark it was. The window had been shuttered against the autumn rain and the only light was from an oil lamp, burning brightly but inefficiently. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, with simple oak furniture and wool rugs on the floor. There was little to indicate it belonged to the king.
The king was seated alone by the hearth and did not look in a good mood. He did not ask Cade to sit but looked at him seriously. ‘I have been told you know this area well. Is that true?’
‘Yes, my lord, I work for Archbishop Renfrew as an assistant and messenger,’ replied Cade.
The king looked at him questioningly. ‘Where is your master the archbishop?’ He realised that he had not seen his advisor for some time and Renfrew was an important link to the Saxon court.
‘He is visiting Bishop Elfred, my lord. I am sure he will be back soon.’
‘You know the knight Sir Padrig?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I need you to take him my order that he is to return. Our victory in the war with the Du could depend on it.’
‘Of course, my lord. I will leave right away.’ He was relieved to have such a simple request.
Gwayne held up his hand to stop him. ‘You need to know that the warlord Vorath has offered a bounty for the capture of messengers, to be paid if they are alive or dead. Take care, as my spies tell me that he has left Pennard and is camped in the hills to the west of here.’
Cade looked surprised. ‘I will do my best, my lord.’
King Gwayne nodded. Cade was a good man and he could use a few more like him now.
After Cade left Gwayne sat staring into the dying embers of the hearth, wondering if he should have sent Cade to find the queen as Kane had suggested. He suddenly realised that his wife would now be Vorath’s prisoner if she had stayed at Pennard as he had nearly insisted. The war had changed so many things. He missed Elvina and prayed for her safety, wherever she was.
Cade was used to taking messages for Archbishop Renfrew and knew the area well. He had decided to travel unarmed except for his knife, which he carried all the time. Riding one of the Archbishop’s horses to make good time, he said a silent prayer that they would respect the protection of the church. Now he knew the Du had been ambushing riders who could be carrying messages.
The warriors who spotted Cade gave him no opportunity to explain that he was not a soldier. He rode straight into their ambush but nearly managed to escape, as he quickly turned and galloped back the way he had come. Cade could hear the warriors closing on him and realised their horses were faster. They carried spears and at least one of them had a bow, so he was riding for his life, as fast as he dared when a warrior suddenly appeared to the side of him and pulled him from his horse. He was injured in the fall, hitting his head on a rock and saw that his wound was bleeding heavily before he lost consciousness. The warriors took his white horse and delivered him to Lord Vorath to claim their reward.
Vorath looked at Cade with interest. His instinct told him this man was not like the other messengers they had captured.
‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’
Cade knew he must not give away the fact that Sir Padrig and his men were so close. ‘I have been summoned by my master, Archbishop Renfrew.’
‘I don’t believe you. You came from the castle?’
Cade realised that the Du must be watching
their every move. ‘I often go to the castle with my work for the church.’
Vorath considered his answer. The bishops of the north advised the king on all matters and he had heard of Archbishop Renfrew, who was reputed to be under the control of the Saxons. ‘You tried to escape from my men. I will give you one last chance to tell me the real reason for your journey.’
Cade realised his life was in danger and had heard tales of what the Du did with their prisoners, but remained silent. He could not betray the king but there was no way he could escape now. His head was still bleeding and he found it hard to think. On a nod from Lord Vorath a warrior tied Cade’s hands behind his back held him next to the horses drinking trough while another held his head under the muddy water, only letting him up gasping for air when he was on the point of drowning. Vorath disliked torture of unarmed men but was impressed by how long Cade endured this treatment before telling all he knew about the plans of the Gwyn. He was pleased to discover the location of Sir Padrig and his men and respected Cade’s courage and loyalty but still had him executed, as the man knew too much.
Chapter Nineteen
An unexpectedly powerful autumn gale swirled around the tall stone towers of Caerphilly castle. It made the long white pennants of the Gwyn flap violently on their flagpoles and loosened the iron catch fastening the heavy shutters of the room where King Gwayne lay dreaming. He dreamed of ghoulish black cloaked enemies that turned to smoke when he tried to kill them. He dreamed of his father, the old king, cursing him for failing to finish the Du and reclaim his lands they had stolen. He dreamed of his beautiful wife Elvina, desperately calling for him to come to her rescue. The wooden shutters banged hard against the stone castle wall, waking him and he lay in the darkness, thinking it was time to bring an end to this war.
In the morning he splashed his face with cold water and called for Kane to come as soon as he could.
Kane was pleased to see that the gloomy mood that had preoccupied the king in recent weeks was gone, replaced with a new commitment he had not seen for a long time. He also noticed that the parchment map with detailed drawings of the Du defences was spread out on the table.
‘Your orders, my lord?’
‘I want every able bodied man ready to fight,’ said Gwayne. ‘First we will deal with this insolent warlord Vorath, then we will march to this castle at Flint,’ he stabbed his finger aggressively at the mark on the parchment. ‘I have a score to settle with their king!’
‘I have learnt not to underestimate this Vorath,’ said Kane calmly. ‘Do we know where we can find him?’
The king looked pleased with himself. ‘I have a spy in his camp. He can tell me where Vorath and his men are going to be and when!’
‘A spy?’ Kane looked interested. One of the advantages of being so close to the king was that he was learning secrets few men of his position could ever expect to know. Vorath had been able to elude them by retreating quickly to secret hiding places in the hills, so a spy would give the Gwyn the advantage they needed.
King Gwayne smiled. ‘He is one of our men Vorath bribed with gold to join him. I think it serves him right! He looked out of the window and was pleased to see that the wind had eased and it was turning into a fine clear day. ‘When can the men be ready to march?’
‘I will see to it right away,’ said Kane.
*
A young drummer beat out the step as the men of Caerphilly garrison marched west down the long and well maintained old Roman road towards Abertawe. They were in good spirits, as they had waited and trained for a long time to be part of the war against the Du invaders. Some of them were fighting through loyalty to the king, others because their own lands were under attack and a few simply because they needed the good pay and rations that came with military service.
The king had decided to remain at the castle in Caerphilly, waiting for word from Sir Padrig about when he would be returning. Kane had also chosen to stay, as he had some urgent business to attend to. He rode west on a fast horse from the castle, dressed in a grey cloak with a hood pulled low over his face, as he hoped his absence would not be noticed. Once out of sight of the castle he increased his pace to a canter, then a gallop, as time was of the essence and he had a long way to ride.
He was challenged by a warrior on lookout duty as he neared the Du encampment and asked to be shown to Lord Vorath, explaining that he had vital information for him about the Gwyn garrison at Caerphilly. The lookout seemed unimpressed but took him to a stone building guarded by two warriors, armed with vicious spears. He waited outside while the lookout went in and explained his request, then was shown inside and saw warlord Vorath for the first time.
At first he found it hard to see, as the room was dark and there was a smoky fire, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the poor light and he saw the black clad figure standing before him. Kane was surprised to see that Vorath was about his own age and build, with a dark beard and bare muscular arms, encircled with tattoos of sacred symbols. The stories he had been told of Vorath’s exploits had become so exaggerated in the retelling that he had expected someone much taller and older. He noted the bloodstain on a cloth bandage covering a wound on Vorath’s shoulder and realised that this was a warrior as well as a leader of men.
Vorath had not expected to see that the Gwyn informer would look like a man of the tribes, with his long dark hair and Celtic tattoos on both arms, similar to his own. He also had the bearing of one used to command and showed no sign of fear at the dangerous situation he was in.
‘You are a warrior?’ asked Vorath, his deep voice booming in the sparsely furnished room.
‘My father was,’ replied Kane.
‘Was?’
‘My family lived in the north, a fishing village on the coast. We were raided by Vikings when I was a boy. My father was killed protecting our land, as were many other good men that day. It was too much for my mother and she took me south. I have been here ever since.’
Vorath liked the calm and controlled way the man spoke, showing no emotion even when taking about what must have been very difficult times. He forced himself to focus on the newcomer. ‘You said you had important information for me?’
Kane hesitated for a moment. He was about to change his life forever, betray the trust of the king, all the men he had trained and the people of the Gwyn. Then he realised that he was now a man of the Du, so he told himself it was no longer treachery.
‘You have a spy in your camp, Lord Vorath.’
‘What is his name?’
‘All I know is he is one of the men who joined you from the Gwyn. He is passing information about your movements to the king.’
‘There are many spies,’ said Vorath. ‘We will find him.’
Kane looked Vorath in the eye. ‘It is not the spy I came to tell you about, Lord Vorath. I came to warn you that the king has ordered the entire Caerphilly garrison to march on your camp. These are well trained and experienced men. You would be heavily outnumbered.’
‘When are they leaving?’
‘The men are marching as we speak so there is not much time.’
‘How do I know I can trust you?’
Kane looked at him. ‘I risked my life to bring you this information.’
*
King Gethin was pleased with the accounts he had received of Lord Vorath’s success in the south and decided it was time he was rewarded. Vorath had asked for reinforcements, so he would send the warriors of Flint castle to Vorath’s growing army and help him to finish the Gwyn for good. Vorath needed the reinforcements to reach him as quickly as they could, so he ordered the longest march ever undertaken, even within the memory of the oldest living warriors. It would be over two hundred miles to Lord Vorath’s camp, taking the fastest route through the mountains.
The men travelled light, carrying only what they needed, with supplies on pack mules rather than wagons so they would not be slowed down on the hills. They made good progress on the first day, covering nearly forty miles over the
rough ground before darkness fell. Once in the mountains the pace slowed and they formed small groups, each competing with the other to have the glory of being fastest and not wanting the humiliation of coming last. During the day they relied on the position of the sun to guide their way once the path became less distinct, keeping it to their left in the mornings and to the right as it began to set. If the sky was clear they were also led by men who could read the stars and find the pole star, a rare skill that helped them make up the extra miles they needed by marching on in the darkness.
The warriors rested at night but only had a blanket or their cape to shelter from the cold and damp of the wilderness. They were lucky that the nights were mild and free of frost but some of the men grumbled. They had been given strict orders not to light fires that could alert the Gwyn, so the only food was eaten cold, washed down with freezing water from the mountain springs. Most of the men were unused to marching such long distances and many were soon suffering from blisters on their feet, with others simply exhausted by the relentless pace over the uneven ground. Fights broke out between some of the men from rival tribes and the older warriors had to threaten them with a beating to keep up the challenging march.
Lord Vorath’s message to the king had also told them to be vigilant for men of the Gwyn ready to light warning beacons on the hill tops, as it was important that they kept the element of surprise. As a precaution they sent some of the younger warriors up to reconnoitre the highest ground and posted extra lookouts whenever they rested. When they crossed the border and entered the territory of the Gwyn there was a call from the forward lookout that riders had been seen approaching. The warriors of Flint quickly melted into the bushes as they had been trained to do and waited. The riders stopped and identified themselves as warlord Vorath’s men, come to guide them to his camp in the hills. There was a cheer from the men of Flint as it had been a gruelling march and their objective was finally in sight.
Lord Vorath welcomed the warriors to his camp and congratulated them on their impressive achievement, telling them they had written another chapter in the stories of the tribes. He ordered that every man should have a hot meal and sat with the most experienced warriors to discuss the battle he had been planning.
