Chapter Sixteen
The Prince Makes a Decision
Suddenly, Wallace was next to me. “Cerdic, I have to do something fast. If I don’t make it to the camp, get the Prince inside and then stay there till your father arrives. Don’t let Sabert persuade Aethelric to leave.”
“What ...?”
“No time to explain,” he shouted back over his shoulder. Then he ran out into the open space between the cavalry and the gate. Seeing his example, twenty of the Prince’s guards, as well as a dozen warriors from Wicstun joined him. More started to go, including Eduard, but I held him back because I now knew what Wallace was doing. He was sacrificing himself to save his Prince, his army and maybe, his country.
“Harald, we must go now!” I yelled. The Earl of Eoforwic twisted his head round and nodded at me then, pointing at the gates, ordered the rest of the army to get inside as quickly as they could. Meanwhile, Wallace and his men had formed a small shield wall, with Wallace at its centre, his broken arm strapped to the inside of his shield. His standard bearer was next to him and the running wolf fluttered in the breeze.
The Goddodin charged and their lances smashed and shattered into Wallace’s shields. Half of the shield wall was knocked over in that first charge and the cavalry milled around and wheeled this way and that, whilst hacking down with swords or jabbing with lances. Still the banner stood and I could see Wallace swinging a sword with his one good hand and cutting off a cavalryman’s head.
“Keep pulling back! Keep it together!” shouted Harald. I took up the call and heard it echoed from further along our line. I glanced over and saw Sabert there with at least some of his men still alive.
Twenty yards to go now and fifty of the Goddodin swerved around the fight surrounding Wallace and started to move towards us. Owain had seen what we were trying to do and was frantically yelling at them to charge the gates and stop us. His men were pushing forward now, trying to catch us, trying to slow us down for just a few moments so the horses could seal our doom.
Ten yards to go and the horses were very close: too close in fact and I could now see that we were going to be beaten: the horses would reach the gates first. With a whoop, they surged forward and blocked our escape and then turned to charge into our rear. Just then, as I thought we were caught and dead, there was a volley of arrows and a dozen horses fell screaming and kicking. The arrows were coming from the battlements behind us. Cuthbert and the skirmishers had reached the camp before the horses and were firing down at them to drive them away. Five more Goddodin warriors tumbled from their saddles and the rest swerved away, out of range.
Now, at last, we were passing through the gates. Seeing this, the cavalry came back again and dared the arrow fire to crash into our shields. Six of our men were knocked down and three killed outright, but Eduard stepped forward, stabbed up with his spear into the belly of a horse, rammed the edge of his shield down hard to crush the throat of another Goddodin, who was floundering on the ground, then pulled one of our men inside by his tunic.
Now we were inside the fortress and the gates were already closing.
“Push men, push,” shouted Harald and together we pushed against the gates first to close them, then to hold them shut whilst the gate bar was dropped into its slot. Barrels, carts and logs were now piled up against the inside. I ran up the steps to the battlements and looked down at the Welsh army milling about outside. Our archers continued to fire down upon them, killing or injuring many at the gate. Finally, after one last attempt to force the entrance, they pulled back and gave up trying to get in − for the moment at least.
It was almost too dark to see more than a few dozen yards. But just at the edge of the gloom, I saw the Wolf’s head banner was still standing. Wallace and his last few men were surrounded out there, yet they were only about sixty yards from the gates. I turned to Harald.
“My Lord, let me take fifty men and rescue Wallace,” I offered. Eduard stepped up to my side at once and nodded his agreement. But Harald shook his head.
“Sorry, Cerdic, but I cannot spare fifty men.”
“But my Lord ...”
Harald turned to me.
“No, Cerdic. I’m sorry. I know he is your father’s friend, but if we open the gates we will be overrun. Wallace knew this. He chose to do this to save the army ... for today at least,” he added gloomily and we all looked out with a sense of frustration and impotence towards the wolf banner and its defenders.
There were now five hundred Welshmen swarming all around Wallace’s small company. For a moment, I hoped that he might hold them at bay and perhaps slowly retreat to the fortress. Then, the enemy charged as one and I felt a lump in my throat as I saw the banner fall to the ground and not come up again. It was finally over: after all that he had been through, Lord Wallace was dead. On the battlements, Harald squeezed my shoulder and, without a word, left to find Aethelric. Eduard placed a hand on my arm as well and tried to comfort me.
“Sorry Cerdic. I know Wallace was a friend of your family as well as of your father. If it helps at all, that was a bloody brave thing he just did. Think about that,” he said and then went to find Cuthbert. So finally I stood alone, looking towards the fallen Wolf banner and the bodies of our men. I was suddenly overwhelmed by all that had occurred today. Just a few hours ago, the Prince had spoken of us slaughtering these Welsh invaders, but now those words seemed foolish and naive. Half our army had died and it was the Welsh who were triumphant: who now believed they had won the battle of Catraeth.
The truth was − they probably had.
I turned my back on the battlefield and in a daze, stumbled along the walkway to the steps leading down from the battlements. Wallace’s last words came to me then and with the horror of what had just happened still gnawing at me, I went to prevent a prince from running away.
At the top of the steps I stopped and looked around the interior of the fortress. Fires had been started by the men to warm themselves on this cool night and also to cook on. I realised that I had eaten nothing since that apple before dawn. Gods, but how long ago was that? Yet, I did not feel I could eat. The horrors of the day, Wallace’s death and the vision of his wolfshead banner falling, churned my stomach and I felt hollow inside.
From where I was standing, I could get some idea of the state of the army and at once could see that we were in terrible trouble. The original garrison at Stanwick camp had been about five hundred and we had brought four hundred more spears that morning. We had started the battle, then, with just less than a thousand spears. Owain, Samlen and their allies had over two thousand men on the field. Both sides had suffered losses but we had fared far worse. I looked around the camp and wondered how many men we actually had left.
Walking down the steps and wandering from fire to fire, I glanced at the dirty, drawn faces that stared despondently into the flames or back at me without any expression. How many had lost friends today? I figured most of them ... most of us. I might have said that Wallace’s company had come out of the day better than most, save that Wallace himself was dead and the company had lost its standard. Along with Wallace, a dozen of his household and most of the veterans had perished. Still, that gave us around sixty men out of eighty-five alive at the end of the day, including my friends and, mercifully, Grettir. Of course, being alive is one thing, but it’s what state you are in that counts. Some had been wounded and I passed men screaming as they were held down to have arrow heads pulled out of them. Others grimaced and bit on leather straps as wounds were stitched or bones set. Then, of course, there were the wounds to the soul. Men had seen friends cut down and choke on their own blood and vomit and had been unable to do anything to help them. Each time it happened they had left part of themselves behind, out on the battlefield.
In Harald’s companies from Eoforwic, as well as the ones from the moors, the situation was far worse. Two hundred men had marched with us from the city. They had shared a camp with us and had listened and laughed, just as we had, to Cuthbert�
��s tales of our valour. Of them, no more than one man in three sat around those fires.
The garrison of Stanwick camp had been just as badly mauled by the Goddodin. Sabert’s two companies from the coast and Wolds were probably in the best condition of all, save mine, but even they had lost thirty men each.
In all, I estimated our losses at around four hundred men. I could not believe that Owain had lost as many as that, but even if he had, that meant that he now had fifteen hundred spears to our mere five hundred: three men for every one of ours. I walked towards the hall knowing, even before I entered, that Sabert would be in an uncompromising mood.
The hall at Stanwick camp was a single-roomed structure, built in the previous year when the dangers of Rheged’s growing strength threatened war one day. War had come and today it was the scene for a council of war. Aethelric sat despondently in the single tall-backed chair, which resembled his father’s throne and which occupied the end of the hall. Harald, Sabert and half a dozen lesser nobles from the other companies, were slumped in scattered chairs and on benches. Harald was eating a roast chicken leg and drinking mead, as I entered. He glanced up and rolled his eyes at me then gestured with his thumb in the direction of Sabert. It was Earl Sabert who was speaking now.
“We should leave and leave soon, your Highness, under cover of darkness. The battle is lost and our only hope is flight ...,” the old lord was saying. He stopped when he saw me and tilted his head.
“Ah, the young farmer. Well, it seems that your father did not come, after all. I was certain this campaign was futile,” he said again addressing the Prince. “We should leave and go back to the bridge at Catraeth.”
Harald belched loudly.
“You have a comment to add perhaps, Lord Harald,” Sabert asked acidly.
Harald pushed his stool back and turned to face him.
“Indeed I do. You say leave. I say... how? How could we leave? Owain is out there with two men or more for each of ours. You expect him to just let us go?”
Sabert laughed at that.
“I expect him to be pissed about now: on mead and ale from our supplies, or having his pleasure with a dozen local girls. They think they have won the battle and they are damn well right: they have. In an hour or two, in the dead of night we go out − east. Even if they have a guard or two the main army is off to the west − you can see the fires. We take down the palisade and go out over the ditch, make for the road, then south to Catraeth.”
I looked at Aethelric and damn me if he was not nodding. I had to change his mind and quickly.
“Then what?” Harald was asking.
“We hold the bridge. The waters are high with the spring rain and also due to the snow melting in the mountains. Owain can only cross at Catraeth − unless he goes out east, through the moors − and that is a very long way. We have more companies mustering in the moors if,” and again he looked at me, “Cenred has managed to get that right.”
“So, we hold them at Catraeth. We wait for more men and we break them there,” Sabert concluded firmly and the Prince was still nodding.
“That won’t work,” I said loudly. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Please tell me, farm boy, why it won’t work?” Sabert said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m dying to know what your great experience has taught you.”
I shook my head, “I don’t have much of that ... but I do have a Welshman in my company. Can I bring him in here?”
Aethelric’s head snapped up at that.
“A ... Welsh ...man, here. Why do you want him?”
“Well, I am sure we would all like to lynch one and it is easier than going all the way to Owain’s camp after all,” Sabert said and despite myself, even I laughed at that.
“He has pledged fealty to my father and me. He was talking to the Welsh in Eoforwic and I think you need to know something of what he heard,” I explained when the jeers had died down.
Aethelric nodded and I turned and told one of the Prince’s guards to go and fetch Aedann. While we waited, Harald brought me a cup of mead. I thanked him and in my thirst drank it quickly then immediately regretted my action, as on an empty stomach the mead went straight to my head.
“How sure are you of your father persuading Aethelfrith?” Harald asked me quietly, so no one else could hear.
I shrugged. “How sure are we of anything in life? We hope for the best, prepare for the worse and give thanks to the gods if we live another day. Fate takes care of the rest. But you can be sure that he will do his best. He can be ... very determined, when he wants to be,” I replied.
Harald nodded. “Good enough for me.”
Aedann walked into the hall and seemingly not intimidated in the slightest by the stares of the assembled lords, strode right up to the Prince and bowed.
“You wanted to speak to me, your Highness?”
Aethelric’s expression suggested he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He pointed vaguely at me, and Aedann turned to ask me what I wanted.
“Aedann, I need you to tell the Prince what you found out by talking to the Welsh in Eoforwic. What were they hoping for?”
The Welshman nodded and paused to collect his thoughts then turned back to the Prince.
“There exists a sizeable proportion of the population of Eoforwic who are far from happy at being ruled by your father, your Highness.”
Sabert snorted at that. “You don’t tell us anything we don’t already know.”
“Wait, I have not finished,” Aedann said cooly. “Most of the population have heard the growing rumours of Owain’s coming and stories are going around that you will be slaughtered by him here. Those stories have found a very favourable audience.”
“Again, this is not exactly news to us, Welshman. Your Highness, he has nothing to tell us that we don’t know,” Sabert said.
“Give him a chance ... my Lord!” I said brusquely.
“Aye, let’s hear the boy out,” Harald agreed.
Aedann studied us all for a long time, remaining silent whilst he appeared to be weighing up what next to say.
“Well, are you going to say anything?” Sabert said at last, tapping his foot in irritation.
“Will you still tell me you already knew what I was about to say, if I tell you that right now five hundred young Welshmen are armed and in hiding in Eoforwic? All they wait for is news that the battle here is lost. Then they will rise up, kill the garrison you left there and seize the city for Owain.”
I stared at Aedann: this was news even to me.
Sabert’s eyes snapped over to fix me with an outraged glare. “You did not think it was worth telling us this before now?” he snarled.
I shrugged, to hide my own ignorance. “Would you have believed the words of a Welshman, or a farmer?” I challenged him in return.
“Are ... are you ... sure?” Aethelric asked, addressing the dark-haired youth.
“Yes, Highness, my people are passing knives and swords around. They are arming and they are waiting. They await one thing: they await news of a victory here and then they will act,” Aedann repeated.
Fuming, Sabert stomped over to the fire and stood by it, warming his hands and glowering with contempt at my former slave. Aethelric and Harald were silent, apparently just as shocked and unsure what now to do. I knew I had to act quickly to take advantage of the moment, to make sure that Aethelric now made the right choice. I moved forward to address the Prince.
“So, Highness, if we retreat to the bridge, as Sabert suggests, Eoforwic will hear of it and the Eboracii will rise up. Our line of retreat and supply will have gone. Do you dare risk that?”
Aethelric looked confused now. Sabert was shaking his head, but had no immediate argument to counter my own.
Before he could say anything, Harald, spoke grimly, “It’s worse than that, Highness.”
Aethelric groaned then slumped back in his chair and put his hands over his head, unhappy to be receiving so much bad news. A moment later
he looked up and nodded at Harald to go on.
“Well, my Prince, the whole land from here to Eoforwic was − not long ago − Welsh, occupied by either the tribes of the Eboracii or the Pennines. There are still many Welsh living here. If Eoforwic falls we could have an uprising on a huge scale. We could find a thousand swords and spears marching up Dere Street and attacking us from behind, at the bridge. That would be that, I think.”
He said this and then glanced round the room his raised eyebrows challenging anyone to gainsay him. Even Sabert pursed his lips at the thought and nodded reluctantly. Then the older lord’s eyes narrowed and he raised a hand and pointed it at Aedann.
“All this supposes that this Welshman is not a spy. He refers to the Welsh in Eoforwic as his people. Is that not a giveaway? I say he was planted here to sow discontent and create disunity. I say let us torture him to get the truth.”
At that, I drew my sword and stood in front of Aedann.
“This man is pledged to me. I will not allow any harm to come to him!” I glared at Sabert.
“Do not draw your sword in the Prince’s hall!” Sabert hissed.
Harald put his hand on my arm. “Your argument is made, Cerdic, but put the blade down.”
I did and bowed at Aethelric. “Apologies, Highness, but the point remains. I will take an oath that this man does not lie.”
Aethelric looked even more confused, but eventually rallied to ask a question. “If what he says is true, what must we do, Cerdic?”
I pointed at the reeds that covered the hard-packed earth of the hall’s floor.
“Stay here: right here. We hold a fortress and we still have five hundred men. Supplies are plentiful and there are fresh water springs and a well. We stay and we hold, until my father comes with Aethelfrith.”
I looked at the lords around me. Some were nodding and others looking anxiously at each other. The door to the hall opened at this moment and Cuthbert came in and talked to a guard, who glanced at me. I nodded at him to permit my friend to enter.
Sabert slapped his thigh in frustration.
“Supplies are not an issue: numbers are. Even with five hundred men we will be hard pressed to hold Owain out of here, even for a day. Unless your father comes tomorrow, all will be lost.”
Cuthbert arrived at my side and bent to whisper in my ear. I smiled and then winked at him.
“If we only had some idea if he was coming and how soon,” the Prince was muttering to himself.
“Maybe we do, Highness. Cuthbert, repeat what you just told me.”
Cuthbert looked terrified at having to do that and I could see his hands were shaking.
“I ... I,” he stammered.
“It’s alright Cuth, just say it: it’s important.”
He took a deep breath then cleared his throat. “Highness, there are fires to the north.”
All eyes now turned to him.
“A f ... fire? Where?” the Prince stuttered fearfully.
“Not just one fire, I said fires, Sire: scores of them. It’s an army out there, it cannot be anything else.”
Harald stepped forward.
“How far boy, how far?”
Cuthbert screwed up his eyes like he did when estimating a range for his bow. He nodded his head after a moment.
“Perhaps ten miles, maybe more, but the low clouds reflect the glow.”
“It has to be Aethelfrith!” I said.
“It could be,” Sabert conceded, “or your Welshman’s word might already be true. It could be an uprising gathering to come here, rallying to Owain’s call. Sire, we can’t take the risk. We must leave now!”
“Sire,” I interrupted desperately, “if it is my father and Aethelfrith then we have to stay. It’s our only hope. We must stay and occupy Owain’s army long enough for Aethelfrith to come and then, together, we can defeat him.”
Harald took less than a second to agree.
“I say stay!” He slammed his tankard down on the table.
Suddenly, there was pandemonium as all the lords began talking at once.
Cuthbert took us all by surprise, not least me, by shouting at them to be quiet. They all stared at him in outrage. He spoke and this time his voice was steady, determined and even noble.
“It’s like one of Lilla’s sagas. Remember when Urien was attacking Lindisfarne and Firebrand stood on the causeway ...?” His eyes grew distant as he thought back several years to the evenings when as boys we had listened to the bard’s tales.
“Come no nearer viper. I tire of retreat. I will die here or I will prevail here and his bondsmen struck spear on shield and roared their defiance.”
I was impressed; Cuth had Lilla’s tone and voice down very well.
Sabert snorted. “This is not a tale, lad. This is real life. We are all going to die if we stay.”
But Sabert had not noticed the Prince. Aethelric knew his own limitations: how poor a leader and how clueless in battle he was. But he had been listening to Cuthbert and would know Lilla’s words well, for it was one of the bard’s most popular sagas. Something in it inspired Aethelric. As he stared at Cuthbert, colour came back into his pale face. The main task or role of a king, prince or lord was to make decisions. This Prince’s decision, this night, would be critical to the outcome of this battle and thus to the survival of an Anglo-Saxon kingdom in the North - and possibly even to the future of the English race. He opened his mouth and made that decision.
“We will stay,” he said, “and we will fight and pray to the gods that Aethelfrith comes in time.”
Sabert’s face was dark for a moment, but then he bowed.
“So be it. It seems that all our fates depend on the eyesight of this man,” he said. Then, still looking at Cuthbert, added, “In which case, may I suggest that your Highness sends this scout to go and find Aethelfrith for us and bring him here.”
“Eh?” mumbled Cuthbert followed by a hasty, “my Lord.”
Sabert was grinning nastily now.
“Your vision seems sharp and there is no doubting your agility and speed. Aethelfrith must know that we need aid quickly, so you can carry that news to him.”
“Yes ... that seems fair,” muttered the Prince, back to his customary vagueness. “I suggest, Harald, you look to setting our defences and then, everyone, get some sleep.”
I left the hall with Aedann and Cuthbert in tow, but as soon as I was outside I spun round and faced the Welshman.
“Why did you not tell me about the uprising in Eoforwic, before now?”
Those dark green eyes stared at me for a moment, before he answered.
“When I arrived in Eoforwic, I had ideas I was returning to my own people ...”
“Like you said, just now?”
He nodded then shrugged.
“Yes, they are Eboracii. They are Welsh and I do speak their language, so I felt some bond there. When I heard them talking, I cannot deny I was excited. For an hour or two when we left the city my mind was full of dreams of a kingdom of Eboracum reborn − maybe even your people as slaves for a change.”
His eyes grew distant. Was he seeing images of my father toiling in the fields while he sat back and drank mead? If so, he was a fool, for my father worked as hard as anyone.
“If that’s the case, why then speak now? Your words swayed the Prince’s decision; you must have known they would?”
“Well, I said I thought these things for an hour or two. Then, I began realising that I have more in common with you all,” and at this he waved a hand towards me and Cuthbert.
“ Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud to come from the race I do and their past and history belong to me. However, my present and future belongs with you. Do not forget also that One Eye is Welsh too, as are his people, and then look at the things he has done. In the end, a man is more than his people’s past. It’s his friends and companions, his family and his deeds today, that matter.”
I nodded and then glanced across at Cuthbert, who I saw had not been listening
. He was looking anxious and I realised he was preoccupied with his mission out into the dark.
“You’ll be fine, Cuth. Sabert might be an ornery so and so, but he spotted that you are a natural hunter and scout. No one will see you and you will find my father, I’m sure of it.”
Cuthbert nodded, looking a little brighter.
“Just don’t take too long about it!” Aedann grunted.
Cuthbert and I found him a dark cloak to wear, fresh arrows and bow strings, food and drink. Then, we went to the north-east corner of the fortress and climbed up to the palisade. We had one sentry up there keeping watch and I asked him if he had seen any enemy activity.
“No, my Lord,” he answered and I dismissed him back to his duty.
The slope beyond the palisade was acute and the ditch at its base deep. Seeing that, I abandoned a brief idea that I had entertained, of giving Cuthbert a horse. There was no way he would get it down there and the main gate was blocked and too well watched by Owain’s men to go out that way. In any event, he was a poor horseman at best and was far better on two legs.
We removed one of the upright posts in the palisade, creating a narrow gap just wide enough for my friend to squeeze through. He poked his head out and looked around and then turned back to me, to say goodbye. I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, “Be careful, but be quick,” I said simply.
He nodded. “Stay safe, Cerdic, I will be back.”
With that he slid quietly down the slope, climbed the far side pulling himself up by the tree roots and, with a last glance at me, was gone between the trees and into the night.
It was now about two or three in the morning and it would be dawn in less than five hours. Returning to the fires, I saw that they had burnt low. The men had taken shelter in whatever hut or building they could find or else, wrapped up in their cloaks, were huddled near the fires. Harald came past and waved me over to him.
“Right then, the guard is set. Nothing more to do for a few hours: let’s both get some sleep. We will be glad of it come the morrow.”
I nodded and realised just how shattered I felt. I could not be bothered to find anywhere to sleep, so I rolled up in my cloak next to a fire and closed my eyes. In an instant, I was asleep.
When Harald woke me, it was still dark, but a faint glow of light on the eastern horizon told me it would be day soon.
We roused the men who, groaning, coughing and complaining, hunched around fires to warm themselves, splashed water on their faces and toasted some stale bread over the flames, or ate whatever else they could find. There wasn’t much.
Eduard stumbled over to me, eating what looked like bacon. I smiled to myself; he always managed to scavenge something to eat. He looked at me and his face wore an unusually anxious expression.
“Aedann told me, that you sent Cuth to go and find Aethelfrith.”
I nodded.
“You think that was wise?”
“Can you think of anyone better?” I replied.
He thought about it a moment.
“Well no, but still, it’s Cuth.”
“I know, I’m worried too, but he will be fine. It’s us I’m more concerned about right now. Give me some of that bacon: I’m starving.”
My breakfast was interrupted, though, as horns now sounded from outside the gates. Our sentries on the walls waved at us. Eduard and I exchanged glances. Was that Aethelfrith already? I scuttled up to the battlement, joined by Sabert, Harald and eventually, a yawning, very sleepy, Aethelric.
I took in the view from the battlements for the first time in the daylight. Owain’s army had camped in scattered spots on the battlefield, avoiding the bodies of the fallen where they could. I saw that a few of the slain were piled up in heaps, whilst their weapons and shields had been collected and stacked together, but other than that, no attempt had yet been made to clear the field and it looked truly appalling. Ravens and crows as well as the occasional fox, were busy with their grisly habit of picking over the bodies of the fallen. What yesterday had been a thousand young fit men was now just food and bloody offal for the animals. Occasionally, some of Owain’s men would throw stones at them to clear them away, but soon they would be back. I tried not to think whether a bird would be picking morsels from my dead flesh later in the day.
Owain’s army would have been as exhausted as ours and had just found spots away from the dead, lit fires and slept. Now, a small deputation was approaching the gates. Twenty or so warriors accompanied the lords and carried banners. Under them stood Owain and Samlen, along with other Welsh kings I did not recognise. I saw, with a scowl, that Hussa accompanied them. He carried a banner as well, but he was dragging it across the ground in apparent contempt. Anger seethed in me as I realised it was the wolfshead banner of our company.
The deputation halted outside the gates and looked up at us.
Owain, resplendent in his golden armour, stepped out to the front. Hussa moved forward with him. Owain shouted something in Welsh; Hussa then repeated it in English. So, Hussa was now moving in the circles of kings, acting as a translator.
“Who has authority to negotiate for you?” Hussa said.
“I do!” Aethelric shouted back, his voice full of defiance and nobility. I had to admit that although he was not much use for anything else, when we needed a speech giving, he was your man.
Hussa whispered something to Owain who replied.
“Prince Aethelric of Deira?”
Aethelric turned to me and said in undertone, “Is that not the boy who bested you in that tournament? I gave him his sword, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Lord, it’s Hussa!”
“You know who I am, traitor!” Aethelric shouted down.
Owain continued talking and Hussa translating.
“The Lords of Rheged, Elmet, Strathclyde and Manau Goddodin are here and I speak for them. YOU are defeated. We claim this land for the Kingdom of the Pennines and demand you lay down your arms to prevent further loss of life.”
Aethelric did not hesitate. “Traitor, tell your new masters that this fort and this land are ours and we will fight to defend them.”
Owain laughed and replied.
“With what?” Hussa said with a sneer. “You have what − four hundred or so men? We have three times your number. You’ll be slaughtered.”
“I offer you a chance,” Aethelric said, ignoring Hussa, “leave now and we will let you depart with weapons and banners and what spoils you have taken.”
I glanced at him sharply. Did that include Mildrith?
Owain laughed again and he turned and said something to Samlen who nodded.
From behind him, his men dragged out three young women, all dressed in fine clothes and wearing my mother’s jewels. The sunlight caught the amber and it glowed. I almost cried out as I noticed that one of them was Mildrith. She appeared to be unhurt, but was clearly terrified. She looked up and saw me on the battlements.
“Cerdic!” she shouted, “help me!”
Samlen looked up at me smugly and shouted in English.
“Our friend told us you were here. Is it spoils like these you will let us take? Pretty aren’t they?” he added, stroking Mildrith’s face. She shied away, shuddering at his touch.
“Samlen, if you have harmed her ...” I shouted, unable to contain myself.
“Oh, not yet: not quite yet. I am saving that pleasure,” he emphasised the last word with a leer at his men, who laughed, “for tonight, when you are dead. Then, my men are looking forward to it as well. I’m a good lord and share the spoils round.”
“Bastard!” I shouted.
Owain now spoke again and Hussa repeated his words in a taunting voice.
“So then, I think we can dispense with your offer and come to ours.”
“What is that?” Aethelric asked.
“Oh, I believe we can be just as generous. We will let you march away with all your weapons in full honour of war. As you can see, our army is scattered and not ready to figh
t you. You can safely go south to the bridge at Catraeth. You will leave this land and we will let you survive ...” Hussa stopped for a moment and checked he had some words right “... and King Owain will even allow you to take these spoils with you.” He waved at Mildrith – his half-sister.
Samlen scowled at that and I was grimacing at the offer, as well. Would they really let us go, give us back Mildrith and permit us to march away unharmed? But, if they did, all we had feared would come to pass. Eoforwic would rise up, we would get caught and killed at the bridge and we would not be here when father arrived. When father arrived .... The realisation hit me like a sledgehammer: of course, that is what was behind it all.
“Reject the offer!” I hissed at Aethelric.
“What are you saying lad, he will let us go and you will get your sister back. Don’t you love her?” Sabert asked, severely.
“I don’t think he will keep his word. It’s just a trick to make us leave this place and get us out into the open,” I now looked at the scattered camps of Welsh and quickly counted numbers. I could see perhaps five hundred men. That meant a thousand were out of sight, somewhere. My gaze fell on the edge of the battlefield where the land dipped away down the southern slope: the same slope where we had hidden, out of sight of the Welsh, only the day before.
“I’m sure of it. They have the bulk of their men ready to ambush us.”
Behind me Grettir had been standing, keeping silent, but now the veteran spoke.
“Master Cerdic is correct. I count no more than four hundred men out there.”
“Why, what is he doing?” Sabert asked.
I knew, or thought I did.
“Aethelfrith: Owain knows he is coming and wants us dead quickly so he can defeat him in turn. Then, nothing can stop him.”
“Very well then,” Aethelric said, lifting his voice and shouting down to Owain and his lords. “I must reject your offer. We will not surrender, viper, we die here or prevail here!”
I smiled and wished Cuthbert had been around to hear that. I glanced at Harald and he winked at me. “You will have to tell your friend,” he whispered, “our Prince is not as weak as he thought.” Then his face looked serious again and I knew what he was thinking: we had first to survive the day, of course.
“Very well,” Hussa shouted out Owain’s reply. “You have sealed your fate. No prisoners will be taken this day!”
Now, Owain’s horns sounded again, but with a different tone. Suddenly, we saw their missing thousand men. They came over the rise as we had done the previous noon, darkening the southern horizon with their numbers and marched in formation towards us. The men around the camp fires quickly assembled and I saw that most already had their weapons at hand. They were already prepared and well organised and I knew that I had been right. Owain had heard about Aethelfrith and was determined to finish us and then turn and destroy him.
Harald yelled an order and our own horns sounded and suddenly our men were arming and assembling on the battlements. I glanced northwards over the far palisade as I tried and hoped to see an army coming. But, there was nothing moving out there. Turning away and slapping my own helmet on, I drew my sword and prepared for battle.
Towards us, fifteen hundred men marched and far away, Loki laughed and rolled his dice.
The Amber Treasure Page 19