by Whyte, Jack
The signal had never been used before, and it was never used again, but when it sounded this time I was already more than two-thirds of the way back to the fort. I put my heels to my horse and was soon galloping up the hillside road, and as I rode up, soldiers came pouring down past me to join the ranks of the army already assembling on the great campus, or training ground, at the foot of the hill. They came in squads and troops, already in formation from the courtyard of the fort, and so I knew that whatever had caused this tumult was momentous. I turned my horse and put it to the hillside, leaving the road to the descending squads, and as I climbed I looked off to my right and saw cavalry approaching from the villa and from the direction of the outlying farms.
My father was already in council with Uther, Titus, Flavius, Popilius the senior infantry centurion, and several others, among whom I recognized Gwynn, the captain of Uric's bowmen from the hills. They all looked up as I strode into the Armoury and I saw that every one of diem was in full battle armour. Even in the tension of the moment, I saw that Uther, who stood with his back to me and turned as I approached, wore a new red cloak with a great dragon in embroidered gold on the back of it, and I knew at once who owned the big new standard I had seen out in the courtyard.
"What's going on?" I asked as I crossed the room.
"Merlyn!" Uther's smile was the one I knew and had always loved. "You return by magic! Where have you been?"
"Riding," I snapped. "Father?"
My father nodded an abrupt greeting. "We're being attacked.. .in double force, it seems. Our breeding stock has been raided. Horses stolen. One attack out of the north, from the river estuary—Gwynn brought news of a fleet coming upstream—and one from the south and west."
"The south and west?" I looked at Uther. "But that's..."
"Aye, Cousin." He finished it off for me. "Our boyhood friend, Lot of Cornwall. It seems Cornwall is no longer big enough for him."
I remembered Daffyd's words of only months earlier. "What's he after?"
"What he is after and what he will find are two very different things."
My father cut both of us short by slapping the flat of his sword blade on the table. "Gentlemen! We have work to do here and no time for idle chatter. Caius, we know from Gwynn here that a fleet of more than a hundred galleys is landed to the north."
"A hundred!" I was stunned. "That's more than three thousand men!"
"Thank you, that had occurred to us." I subsided, and he went on, "Gwynn thinks they are Hibernian. whoever they are, they could not have chosen a worse time to hit us. We have already sustained heavy losses in the south-west. The hostile force there is at least four hundred strong—cavalry strong enough to have overrun our outlying farms and to have stolen the herd of horses that was gathered there."
"How do we know this?" I was hoping not to hear what I heard next.
"Because two of our men got away and brought us the news."
"Two? That's all?"
"That is all. The others are all dead."
I could not believe what I had heard. "Father, we had more than two hundred men stationed there!"
"That was yesterday, Caius. Today we have none. However he did it, Lot managed a complete surprise attack in the darkness before dawn. From what the survivors tell me, our men were slaughtered before they could react."
"How did the two survivors escape?"
"They didn't escape. One of them was on his way to the main camp there with dispatches from me. The other was returning from a visit to his dying mother. They met going west and travelled together. They arrived in sight of the camp just after daybreak and saw what had happened."
"How many of the enemy did they count?"
"Approximately four hundred that they could see, all mounted and preparing to move out again, coming this way."
"Were they seen, our men?"
"They don't think so."
I glanced around at the faces of my companions. "What's our plan?"
"We haven't time to do anything too elaborate. Uther and Flavius are riding to meet them with five hundred horsemen. They'll take Lot's people as and when they meet them. It will be our disciplined horse against their lack of discipline."
I grimaced. "We hope! I would think it required some strongly disciplined manoeuvring to surprise our camp there. Who was in charge?"
"Lucius Sato."
"That's what I thought. He was a good man." My mind was fully occupied in grappling with the logistics of what faced us. Finally I nodded, satisfied that I knew what to do. "So Uther and Flavius will tackle Lot's men to the southwest. What about the others? To the north? How much time do we have there?"
My father answered me by looking to Gwynn.
The big Celt shrugged. "We rode hard to get here, and when we left, the fleet was still on the water. They couldn't have landed before yesterday afternoon. That means they can't get here until tomorrow."
I frowned at him. "You mean you didn't see them land? Then how do we know they are attacking us? They may have landed on the northern coast of the estuary. They may be looking for the gold-mines again."
"No." Gwynn shook his head emphatically. "We thought of that. The beacon fires were to be lit if the Scots were coming this way. The fires passed us on the way this morn- mg.
I turned back to my father. "What, then?"
"We leave immediately. If all three thousand of them come this way, we'll stop them in the valley fifteen miles north of here, the one with the bog. It's a natural trap. We'll let them walk in and then spring it shut on them." He turned to Uther and Flavius. "You two can be on your way. Good luck and may Mithras the god of soldiers ride with you."
"Hold!" I stopped them before they could even salute. Both of them turned to stare at me. "Father, why are you only sending five hundred men?"
"Against four hundred? Because it is enough."
"I disagree. And if Uther thinks about it honestly, he will, too. They have four hundred and they're coming this way quickly. Their morale is high, remember, they've already slaughtered one contingent of our people."
My father frowned at me. "What are you trying to say, Caius?"
"I'm not trying to say anything. I think we should send Titus's two hundred with Uther and Flavius, too. Seven hundred against four. Give Lot's people a taste of numerical weakness. Then let them try to fight against our tactics in the field. Smash them now, while we have an early opportunity. They don't know we know they are coming. Let's teach them not to invade our Colony. Smash them, Father, now!"
Uther intervened, his face clouded. "We can do that with the troops we have. We need no more."
"Be sensible, Uther," I snapped. "Forget about the glory, and see the perils! These people are dangerous. If Gulrhys Lot has made alliance with the Hibernian Scots we can't afford to let a man of his escape. Take the extra two hundred and hammer him flat."
He looked at my father, who was frowning at me and who now spoke for Uther. "I see your point, but what about the north? We'll need those two hundred horsemen there."
"No we won't, Father. Between your men and mine, we will still have four hundred cavalry. If you want to trap the Scots in the valley, we can bring our four hundred horse behind them and chase them into our hidden infantry. The Scots have no horses. We can hide two thousand infantry and more along the sides of the road out of that valley, among the trees, and have another thousand waiting for them when they crest the hill on the far side. We can hit them front, rear and flanks all at the same time. we arrive there soon enough!"
My father's eyes flashed. "You're right, Caius!" The decision made, he swung to Titus. "Titus, take your command with Uther and Flavius. Among you, wipe Lot from your path. We will take the others in the valley to the north. Now let's move, gentlemen, we have no time to waste." The trumpets started blaring immediately in the courtyard outside as the party began to stream from the room. My father had hold of big Gwynn by the arm and was talking urgently to him.
I stopped beside them. "Father, I have to arm myself. I'll join
you in the yard." He nodded and I turned on my heel to walk from the room, and then I hesitated and looked down at my feet. I was standing on the shortest floor board, the one that hid Excalibur. I felt a sudden thrill at the thought of carrying that burnished blade into battle.
"What's wrong, Caius?" My father's voice was impatient.
"Nothing, Father." I started walking again. "I just had a thought, that's all. It's not important."
By the time I emerged at the run from my quarters, trying to fasten my war cloak around my neck, my father and our senior officers were all mounted. I ran to my fresh horse, a huge black, and had my foot in the stirrup when my father called my name. I turned to look at him.
"One moment, Caius." He kneed his horse over to where I stood, so he looked directly down on me. "I meant to mention it at the time, but I was distracted and forgot. One day, about a month ago, while we were standing face to face, discussing something, I noticed that I was almost looking up into your eyes..." He smiled, and I saw love and pride in his face. "Almost, I said. Bear that in mind. I don't think I've ever had to look up into anyone's eyes since I was a child, but the fact is, my son, you are now as tall, and every bit as big, as I am." He beckoned to someone, and I turned to see a soldier approaching me with a great black war cloak held across his arms. "We were to have had a ceremony tomorrow," my father continued, "but now is as good a time as any. New standards for yourself and Uther. His is a golden dragon, yours is this." The soldier carrying the cloak swirled it open and presented it to me. The inner lining was white, like my father's own, but across the shoulders of the black exterior a great, rearing bear was depicted in heavy, silver embroidery, its arms flung wide to show its massive claws. It was magnificent. I was speechless, for my father and I had almost quarrelled a short time before over such a creature—he, angry that I had endangered my self rashly by fighting it, and I that he should belittle my single-handed victory over the monster. This was an olive branch.
"Wear it," my father shouted. "Our enemies should grow to fear it as soon as possible." There was a shout of laughter as I unclasped my own plain cloak and the soldier helped me to don my new one. As I fastened it, the soldiers in the courtyard gave a mighty cheer and I felt grand. I stepped up into my saddle and another soldier appeared by my side bearing a shield decorated with a silver bear, and a long, black-shafted spear. I took them and sat very tall and proud on my great, black horse. My father raised his arm again and there was a clatter of hooves as yet another soldier drew near, this one carrying my new standard of black and silver. General Picus dropped his arm, the trumpets blasted, and we rode out through the gates of Camulod, on our way to war again.
From the road outside the gates, we could look down on the plain beneath us, where our three thousand infantry were already moving out in cohorts of five hundred men each. Dust shrouded our view, but we all knew that we were looking at a phenomenon: the largest armed force our Colony had ever assembled for an aggressive strike. We had two hundred men to avenge, and we meant to succeed.
BOOK THREE - Raptors
XIII
From my lookout at the edge of the little wood I saw the distant figure of my decurion scout emerge from a clump of bushes and wave to me. I spoke over my shoulder.
"There's the signal. They've passed. Let's move up." I kicked my horse to a walk and began to move along the floor of the little ravine-like valley that had hidden us between two ridges. Behind me, four hundred mounted men rode in double file. I crossed the wide, beaten path of the Hibernian Scots Who had passed us transversely and counted one hundred more paces before reining in and turning my horse to the left to face the steeply rising ridge. A glance to my left showed my men lined up and waiting for my command. I looked to the top of the ridge before me and made myself count again to one hundred, slowly. I knew what lay on the other side of the ridge and I did not want to commit us too soon. Finally, I gave the signal and we put our horses to the slope and soon arrived at the crest overlooking the valley below. Four hundred of us, a double line of men and horses, two hundred to a line, now straddled the road that the Hibernians had followed down to the valley bottom. I sat there, gentling my horse with my hand on its neck and looking at the scene before me.
Most of the valleys in this part of the country stretched from east to west, widening to the coast. We were now facing south across a valley that was different, deepening as it fell inland away from the coast. It was almost two miles , wide from where we sat to the top of the opposite ridge. Thick forest blocked it inland to the east and covered the hillside opposite us, but the hill on our side was bare and green, as was the floor of the valley, which rose gradually towards the sea on our right until the valley itself tapered out among high crags. It was the valley floor that had made us choose this spot for our action; a deathtrap of a place, as my father had said. The roadway ran directly south across the centre of it, from crest to crest, and more than half a mile of it lay on the flat valley floor, flanked on each side by innocent-looking grass that covered deep and treacherous bogs capable of swallowing a troop of horsemen and their mounts and leaving no sign of them thereafter. On the other side of this flat stretch, the road began to rise again to the south, through thickening trees that encroached on it from both sides until the road itself resembled a tunnel. From where I sat, I could see no signs of the two thousand men we had hidden among the trees.
Timing was crucial now. The enemy had to be beyond the point of no return before we moved. They had to be hemmed in by the bogs, so that when we began our charge at their backs, they could not spread out defensively to meet us. We wanted to panic diem. But the bogs were as much our enemy as theirs. We had to pull up short of them, and before we did that, we had to make these Hibernians run— up the road ahead of them and through the trees with their two thousand hidden men, and out of the valley to where my father waited with another thousand to receive those who escaped the trap.
I raised my shield arm high, holding it there, gauging my moment and enjoying the strain on the muscles of my arm and shoulder. The enemy force was a great black caterpillar on the road below us, more than half of them already on the road through the bogs. I dropped my arm, our trumpets sounded, and we began to advance at a walk. The effect was instantaneous: those in the rear who heard our trumpets looked back and saw us coming, and even above the noise of our own advance we could hear their shouted warnings to the men in front of them, and could see the worm of panic start to squirm. We broke into a canter, our rear line moving up between the men in front, forming a solid line.
The first signs of real disorder below appeared in the rear ranks as the men there began to increase their pace, crowding in on those in front of them. Not all were panicked, however. A number of figures broke from the column and began to organize lines of defence, but they were too late. My timing had been right. The bogs had them. The lines they tried to throw out on their flanks floundered in mud as men slipped and fell helplessly in the sucking muck. And then the rout began in earnest. I had ordered my trumpeters to sound without let-up, and now my men began screaming. Our pace had been increasing steadily and we were now less than three hundred paces from the rear ranks of our quarry, with fifty paces less than that between us and the start of the bogs. Now there was not a man among the enemy who did not know we were behind them. The increasing pressure from the rear transmitted itself visibly along the column, which was not less than six men deep by about five hundred long. All space between the marchers disappeared, and those at the very front broke and ran from the press, heading for the apparent safety of another open valley at the crest of the tunnel-road through the trees ahead. The entire column was running by the time I pulled my horsemen to a halt just short of the bogs. We sat there and watched the shock wave recoil as the men in front crested the hill to find themselves confronted by two Roman cohorts drawn up in maniple formation, waiting to receive them. As they bunched together in fatal hesitation, our concealed men hit them from both sides.
Militarily
, I suppose it was a great success. The slaughter was appalling, for as the men we had hidden in the woods moved in for the kill, the enemy packed on the road itself were unable to fight back. We, the cavalry, had served our purpose. All we had to do now was watch and wait for any attempt at retreat that came our way.
At first there were about a dozen, perhaps a score of men who fled back from the tunnel of death that awful road had become. They stopped when they saw us waiting for them.
While they were in no immediate danger, their numbers grew until there were perhaps two hundred of them in a great knot on the road, half-way between the woods and us. After a time, the fugitives from the tunnel grew fewer, until the flow ceased completely. At first, rather than face us, a number of them tried desperately to escape through the bogs on either side of the road, but the man who travelled furthest made less than a hundred steps before he fell for the last time. He had been wearing garish red and green, but he was ho more than a black blob by the time he vanished. I turned to Achmed Cato, my lieutenant.
"How many, do you think?"
"Two hundred, perhaps three? Hard to count, Commander."
"Say three hundred. Out of three thousand." I watched them, remembering Publius Varrus. "Are you a Christian, Cato?"
"Aye, Commander, in Camulod."
"What do you mean?" I looked at him. "Not here?"
He grinned, embarrassed. "Mithras is the soldier's god, Commander. He has not let me down in battle yet."
"I know what you mean. Christianity can be uncomfortable when it comes to killing. Sometimes I think the Druids have the right of it. Their gods are not so prickly. They seem older, somehow, easier to live with." I remembered Uncle Varrus's description of his own dilemma as he faced three bound Hibernians on a stony beach. They were defenceless, but vicious and dangerous. To kill them would be murder, according to .his Christian faith, but if he released them they would surely murder others, and he could not take them with him. I faced three hundred now, and I had no archers poised on the cliffs above me to relieve me from the responsibility of making a choice. I spoke again to Cato. "I wonder if the Christian Church will ever breed soldiers among its ranks?" He looked at me as if I had gone mad. He had no idea of what was in my mind. "Cato," I went on, "these men are going to come to us. I don't want to kill them, but we cannot take three hundred prisoners."