Saxon Sword

by Griff Hosker

  We left Pen Rhudd after speaking to the headman there and then headed south. The route I took was not direct. I would ride south to Aelletün and see if all was well there. We would spend the night and then head back to my bath house the next day. The men who lived in the place with the terrible memories might appreciate a visit from the Warlord to reassure them that they were not forgotten. I thought the idea came from my own head. I was wrong. The spirits guided my thoughts.

  We were just a day away from home close to the head of the Long Water when we both smelled death. I had fought for many years and recognised it. Arturus was relatively young but he knew it for what it was. We both drew our swords. The smell of death was human. That might well attract animals. Wolves still prowled the high ground of Halvelyn. A wolf disturbed whilst feasting could be a vicious enemy.

  There was a line of trees on the lower part of the hill next to the road and I knew that there were rocks and rough ground behind. I waved Arturus to the left and I went right. As we brushed through the trees and bushes, magpies and crows took flight. I saw the bodies. It was Galeschin, one of my newer equites, and his squire Ywain. I recognised the wolf clasp on their cloaks. They had been butchered. Their heads were on spears. Galeschin’s mail had been taken and both men’s hearts had been removed. Their weapons had been taken too. Of their horses there was no sign.

  Arturus almost whispered, “Who could have done this?”

  “I know not but the torn-out hearts fill me with foreboding. Galeschin and Ywain were given the task of speaking to those who live north of Shap.” I dismounted. I regretted riding in with our horses. We might have ruined any tracks that had been left. It could not be helped. I looked around. Our men had not come through the treeline. The nearest break was fifty paces north of where we stood. I walked back to the gap. The hoof prints were obvious now. I followed them. As I neared the ambush site, for that was what it plainly was, I wondered why the men had left the road. What had induced them to ride off the beaten track? I walked further up the slope. As I did so I spied a piece of dead ground. When I stood and looked down I saw that there were many prints. Their attackers had waited here but what had drawn Galeschin here? I kept walking and saw that the ground dropped away. Then I saw how my young equite had been lured. The body of a young woman lay at the foot of the small cliff. Her lower body was bloodied. I knew what her fate had been. Perhaps she had been forced to shout and that would have drawn in Galeschin. Galeschin was a young equite but he was capable as was his squire. As I walked towards Arturus I saw blood spatter and deeper footprints. I signalled for Arturus to bring the horses and follow me.

  The footprints went to a jumble of rocks some fifty paces above the road. Arturus had to dismount rather than risk damaging the horses. I saw, as I approached, that the stones which had appeared to be natural had, in fact, been moved. The moss on them was not even. Sheathing Saxon Slayer, I moved five of them. A tattooed arm fell out. It was a Saxon; it was the Clan of the Snake. Arturus and I uncovered the bodies and found eight of them. My men had died hard and taken enemies with them. They had been buried not out of respect but to hide their presence from me.

  “We have enemies loose in our land. We must track them.”

  We mounted our horses. “How many will there be?”

  “I know not.”

  He pointed to the skulls on the spears, “We cannot leave them.”

  “We will return and bury them with honour and the girl I found but first we find where they are. Do you wish more of our men to die? More of our people to suffer?” He shook his head.

  We had not ridden over this ground and I soon spotted the hoof prints. They were riding double and the hoof prints stood out. Once we were on the road we would lose them but as the road led through Aelletün they would have to leave the road or risk the wrath of my men who lived there. Despite the fact that we had left our dead unattended I would not rush the chase to return to them. This was too important. I, therefore, kept a close watch on the side of the road once we reached it. “Arturus ride to the left. If you see a hoof print then let me know.”

  “Aye Warlord. How many do you think there are?”

  “They are riding double which means at least four and I have see the footprints of men beside them. I do not have the time to examine them but I am guessing at least ten.”

  After a pause he said, “And there are but two of us.”

  “We are equites and unlike Galeschin we know that there are enemies abroad.”

  There was another pause and Arturus said, “You think he made a mistake do you not, Warlord?”

  “Is that you reading my mind, son of the wizard, or are you using your warrior’s brain?”

  “Neither. I know you now, Warlord. I have watched your back since I returned to become a man. You strive for perfection in all things. It is what set you against Gwenhwyfar when first you saw her. She was not perfect and that is what you sought for me.”

  It was uncanny for he was right. I was never satisfied with anything that I did. I held up my hand. “Here, Arturus, they left the road!”

  I dismounted to make certain that I was correct. They had left the road but they had dismounted when they did so. They were trying to hide from pursuit. I led Copper and walked along the prints. After forty paces they became deeper again as the Saxons had remounted. I looked up to try to divine their purpose. Just ahead of us was a huge rock which locals called Old Toothless for in the late evening it resembled a toothless old man. There was a track which went around it and then passed to the north of Halvelyn. It headed west and not south. Had these Saxons come by ship and, if so, were there others loose in my land? We were set on our course and we would have to follow it.

  I waved Arturus over and explained what I had discovered. “Fortunately, there are so few people living between here and the Round Water that they can do little harm. They will have to camp soon. The track they follow has some dangerous places. They must have come east along this road to have known where to leave the road.”

  “I see neither track nor trail.”

  “That is because they are not on it yet. It begins some mile north and west of here. When we find it, unless I miss my guess, they will head along it to the west. They are returning to their boat.” We had our spears with us and I slid mine from its leather bindings and nodded to Arturus. He did the same. A spear was the weapon for hunting men on foot not a sword.

  The angle the tracks approached the trail confirmed my suspicions. The path twisted and turned so we would not be able to see them and they would not be able to see us. Had they taken the tracks to the north or south of this one then we would have been clearly visible to each other. We watered our horses at each bubbling stream we crossed. We let them graze on the grass. We would not catch these Saxons before dark if at all. They had a lead but they were going at the speed of men. The blood I had seen on the leaves of the bush when we had left the road told me that at least one of the Saxons was wounded.

  Heading west meant we travelled towards the fading light. When it became too dark to travel I sought shelter. I spied a shape to the side which looked like a hut. I dismounted and, with spear held before me walked towards it. I had not heard Galeschin’s horse neigh but I was taking no chances. A dog growled. The fading light showed its eyes and as I looked closer I saw bared teeth.

  I lowered my spear and dropped to one knee. I held my hand out and said, “Good boy. Good boy.”

  My use of familiar words seemed to have an effect and he came closer. As I stroked its fur my hand came away bloody. It had been wounded. I stood and drew my sword. I pushed open the door and entered the hut, I almost tripped over the bodies of the shepherd and his family. “Arturus, fetch a flint.”

  The dog began to whine and to lick one of the bodies. The hut was a traditional one. It was made of stone and was round. There would be a fire in the centre. I made my way there and, putting my hand down felt the warm ashes. The fire had been lit that day. I felt around until I felt kindling. I
had just laid the fire when Arturus came in. I heard his sharp intake of breath as he almost tripped over a body. “Go and see to the horses. Make certain that the door is closed and hang your cloak over it so that no light can be seen. Secure the horses behind the hut. Bring our bags in.”

  “Aye Warlord.” His voice was filled with unasked questions.

  The door closed and I took the flint. I was in complete darkness. I had to do things by feel. Myrddyn had taught me how to do this. He had made me practise finding things in the dark. When we had entered Din Guardi it had been an invaluable skill. The spark struck the wood shavings I had placed around the kindling. I blew on them gently and the red flames began to eat into the dried twigs. The leaves on them flared and ignited others. I added a couple of larger pieces of wood and when I was satisfied that it was alight I stood. What I saw turned my stomach. There was a shepherd who had been dismembered. His chest had been torn open. His wife and daughter had been abused and despoiled. I could do little for them. I did not want Arturus to see them. It was a horror which would live with him his whole life. I carefully moved the bodies and body parts to the side of the hut away from the bed and covered them with a cloak. I then turned my attention to the dog.

  It was a shepherd’s dog. They were common on the fells. It was a golden-brown colour. It resembled a fox save that the ears were not erect. I saw that it had been struck a glancing blow by a spear head. The wound was a long one along its back. It must have been defending the family. I took my water skin from my side and poured a little into one of the family’s wooden bowls. The dog lapped it eagerly. While it drank I poured some on the wound. As the fire light grew I saw better. I wiped away the blood and unmatted the fur. It was a clean wound. It was on its back and it had not rolled in dirt to poison the wound.

  The door opened and Arturus came in. He was careful to avoid light spilling from within. “Give me the vinegar and honey. We will sleep here this night.”

  He saw the cloak covered corpses, “The family?”

  I nodded, “They were butchered and we are closer to them than I thought. The bodies were not cold when I moved them. The Saxons are, perhaps, five miles or so ahead of us.”

  “Why did they not stay here?”

  “These Saxons have planned well. The further west they camp then the shorter their journey. They will have headed east when they came and remained hidden. They will cause mayhem on their way back for they know where there are isolated farms. We will just rest for a couple of hours. Nights are short at this time of year.”

  While he prepared some food, I tended to the dog. He must have known I was trying to help for even when I used vinegar to cleanse the wound it did not snap. I smeared honey on the wound. It would stop the wound becoming dirty and would help the healing process. At least it did with humans and horses. Perhaps it was the same with dogs. We needed the dog. The spirits had saved it for it would be able to track the Saxons and give us warning when it smell them. I took out some dried venison and fed it to the dog.

  Arturus had found a pot and some vegetables. He had made a stew. We had not eaten since we had left Pen Rhudd at dawn. We were starving. We left enough in the pot for the dog to eat and to lick it clean. As we lay down to sleep the dog came to curl up close to me. I smiled, “We shall call this dog Warrior for it has the heart of a warrior.” As I stroked the sleeping dog I remembered my father and uncles telling me of a dog they had which had hunted Saxons with them when they were little more than boys. It was wyrd.

  I woke myself when it was still dark. The dog stirred when I did and rose stiffly to its feet. I went to the door and opened it. I slipped under the cloak and went to the side of the hut to make water. I heard the dog as it did the same. I went around the back and saw that the horses were both well. It was I came back to the entrance that I saw, across the valley below us, a pin prick of light. It had to be the Saxons. We were close. I went to the door and said, “Arturus, rise!”

  I brought the horses around and we saddled them. We had to hurry. Once dawn broke then the pin prick of light would disappear. We had to get as close to them as we could before dawn came. Darkness would hide us for this was a steep sided valley. I fed and watered the dog again. We had to look after him and I swallowed down some water and then chewed on dried venison. We headed west.

  The sheep dog, Warrior, looked much better and loped alongside us. He sniffed as we hit the trail and I saw his ears prick. He had the scent of those who had hurt him and killed his shepherd. We took it steadily for it was still dark. The pin prick of light flicked, disappeared and reappeared. Men were moving before it. I kept glancing from the trail to the light and it soon became obvious that the Saxons has come this way. It was confirmed by the dog. Dawn came slowly, almost insidiously. Halvelyn acted as a block to its rays. I saw them shining on peaks to the west of us. The camp site of the Saxons was still hidden in darkness. The path twisted and turned down the contours of the steep sided valley. At one point Arturus’ horse sent stones skittering down the path. To rush would be fatal. We reached the bottom and forded the bubbling mountain stream. Warrior leapt from stone to stone and was barely wet. We had just begun to climb when the light disappeared. They had extinguished it. It did not matter overmuch as we were less than a couple of miles behind them.

  As we climbed, we were in the darkness of the bottom of the valley but the sun gradually spilled down the western valley side. I spotted the horses with the two riders on each of them. I counted eight other warriors. I could not be sure of the exact numbers but they were within sight. We could see them but Halvelyn protected us and we were in darkness.

  The fact that we could see them and they, I hoped, would be unaware that they were being pursued, gave me hope. We reached their camp at the fourth hour of the day. The sun was up and the day would be hot. Two of their men had died. We found the stones covering the graves. My equite and his squire had taken many with them. I was proud of their sacrifice. I realised that they were taking the hard route. It was over the emptiest and roughest part of Rheged. I knew the place they were heading. The Romans had had a fort at Parton. It was on the coast and was a good harbour with ten or so families. They had taken the port. I had a hard decision to make.

  “Arturus, you must ride north to Carvetitas. I need every archer, squire and equite at Parton. They must pass across the high ground and along the Flat Water and thence to Parton. It is the only place close by where they could moor a ship unseen. That is where they are headed.”

  “Warlord, I cannot leave you alone! There are twelve men ahead of you!”

  “And two of us cannot hurt them. They cannot make Parton without another camp. They have but two horses. I can watch them and I can slow them down. Have Llenlleog come down the coast it will be quicker and easier than the route they must take.”

  “They are not worth the life of the Warlord!”

  I smiled, “Then, squire, as your last act before you become an equite, see that I do not die! Now go. I have the dog!”

  He looked at me and nodded, “Stay safe Warlord!”

  “You are not ready to fill my boots Arturus. I will be safe.”

  As he headed north I dug my heels into Copper. This was a true quest. I did not think it was my time to die but if it was then I was ready. Arturus would soon be ready and Llenlleog was more than capable of making the right decisions until he was. I would not let my father down. My life meant nothing. Rheged was all.

  The ground was rough and undulating. There was no chance of seeing those I pursued. They could not see me and I could not see them. This was a narrow pass which led across one of the emptiest parts of Rheged. I knew not what the peaks were called to the north of me only that men would not willingly scale them. I knew then that the dog had been sent by Myrddyn to help me. I might still die but the dog would give me warning and I would take Saxons with me. We twisted, turned and climbed during that hot day. When I spied hot horse dung I slowed. I was catching them. Warrior’s ears were constantly pricked. Dark
ness would be my ally. I stopped and ate some dried venison and drank water. I shared my food with Warrior. Copper drank from the stream and cropped the grass. We continued west.

  I was too old to be riding for so long but I dared not stop. As the sun began to set I slowed. They would light a fire. This was remote. We had not passed any habitation since the farmhouse of corpses. We dropped down below a ridge and, as the sun set before me I saw their shadowy silhouettes on the skyline and then they disappeared. They were less than a mile away. I slipped from my saddle and walked Copper. My horse needed a rest. Warrior had become agitated over the last mile. He knew the killers were close. I gave him a piece of venison and stroked him.

  “Stay by me!”

  I could almost smell them. They were that close. When I detected the smell of burning wood, I stopped. They had made camp. I looked around and found a dell close to a stream. I walked Copper there and tied her to a tree. There was water and there was grass. I had not yet decided what to do. Myrddyn would tell me. I ate and I drank. The dog was the problem. I gave him some venison. “Warrior, stay.” I pointed my finger. I repeated, “Stay!”

  He took the venison and lay down. I hoped he would obey. I took out my sword and my dagger. I did not need my helmet and my wolf cloak was dark enough to hide me. I left the trail and walked over the rough ground to find their camp. I heard them before I saw them. They were arguing.

  “All this way to kill two warriors! It was a waste. We lost too many warriors!”

  “Lang Seax has led us well. We are richer and we have good weapons. We killed more than two warriors and we enjoyed their women. Life is good. If Lang Seax thinks that this raid is worthwhile then who are we to argue.”

  “We should have brought more men. This land is ripe for the plucking.”

  “It is but we have but four boat crews. When we have six then we can strike. Be patient. Lang Seax will rule this land one day.”

  I crept forward on all fours using the bushes and rocks for cover. I was approaching from the darker, eastern side. and saw their fire and their sentries. They had two of them. They were on opposite sides of the camp and well away from the fire. These warriors knew their business. I sat beneath an elder bush and I waited. They would sleep. I counted twelve of them. I was confident that I could kill four and still escape. This was not the work for Saxon Slayer. My sword was too long. I slipped my dagger out and held it while I waited. The two horses were tethered to a tree. I heard them moving restlessly. They could smell me. It neighed; that alone showed the stress it felt. Its master had been killed and it forgot its training. One of the sentries walked over to them and smacked one. “We need you for but another day and then you die. I like horsemeat.” The horses stamped and there was another hard slap.