Sword of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  Out of the fog leaped a deer, a wild look in its eyes. It raced by the troops, past The Elm and down toward Bodden Keep, disappearing back into the mist. Another deer appeared out of the fog, then another and another. Soon, an entire herd went streaming by, and she understood why; wolves were herding the animals, guiding them down toward the enemy troops that surrounded the Keep. She drew her sword and raised it high, “Prepare to advance,” she commanded. She held her breath, counting to herself. A smaller group of deer streamed past followed by three wolves; she counted to ten, and when no more ran past, she gave the order, “Advance!”

  The cavalry began to move as they had practised. They started at a slow walk and then gradually gathered speed to a trot. They would keep this pace until the fog lifted, and then break into a charge. The sun was rising rapidly, and she knew it would burn off the fog shortly; years of living in Bodden had gotten her used to it. She could feel the descent as the horses topped the hill and began entering the slight depression where the Keep kept the town safe.

  She heard Gerald's voice behind them, and then it was lost as the sound of the horses intensified. Now they were creating their own thunder, the very ground trembling beneath them. The distant yelling ahead of them had her guessing that the stampede had reached the invader's camp.

  “Draw your weapons!” she commanded, and the rasp of steel as blades were pulled from their sheaths could almost be heard over the thunder of the hooves.

  The mist was burning off rapidly, and now the riders were above the fog while a thin layer remained below them. It gave them a sense of strangeness, as if they floated upon the mist. The walls of Bodden were straight ahead, with defenders manning the barricades, no doubt drawn to them by the sound of the stampede. She nodded to the man beside her, and he lifted a horn to his lips, blowing three times.

  The horses spurred on, and instantly the mist disappeared, revealing the carnage in front of them. The earth was trodden down by hundreds of deer; it was as if a giant brush had painted a swath, directly over the enemy lines. The cavalry broke into a charge and added their own sound of thunder to the attack.

  The enemy had encircled the Keep, with catapults still under construction. The first area that had been hit by the flight of the deer was the workshops, were the invaders laboured away at constructing the giant siege engines. Red smears on the ground denoted where the workers had been trampled. Two of the catapults were broken by the force of the stampede, and Beverly noticed numerous deer, impaled by bits of wood or other obstacles that they had run into in the crush.

  She led the cavalry through the devastation, looking about quickly. The stampede had carved a path through the troops to the east of the Keep and then circled around to the south. For the second time in this campaign, she felt like she had been thrust into the Underworld where pandemonium reigned; wolves tearing at men's flesh. She gave an involuntary shudder. She wheeled the cavalry north and drove them into the enemy's lines. The horns of Bodden sounded, and she knew her father was getting ready to lead the knights out of the main gate.

  The enemy was still sleeping, with few even formed up as the charge drove through their camp. Those that were awake, wandered about, stunned by the ferocity of the surprise attack. One man was organizing a defence, gathering a group of perhaps twenty men and attempting to form a line. She spurred Lightning forward, and as he leaped, he struck a man down as he landed on top of him. Beverly heard a sickening crunch as the beast landed, but ignored it. She jabbed down with her sword, connecting with a target, and then raised the sword to strike again. The enemy troops around her scrambled in a blind panic, looking for safety that could not be found. Her own soldiers were chasing down small groups of men before they could form. The enemy soldiers about her broke, some throwing down their weapons, while others tried to run. She held Lightning in check while she surveyed her position. The Mercerian Cavalry was operating in pairs as she had trained them, watching their partner's backs while they fought. The northern line was broken, but the greatest mass of troops still lay to the west, opposite the main gate and even as she looked, she heard the sound of horns again; Bodden had unleashed the knights.

  Horns sounded from the walls as the knights rode forward, Baron Fitzwilliam at their head. He had studied their lines carefully from his map room and knew where to strike. They charged straight through the enemy lines, directly for the ornate tent that held the enemy command. The knights drove their mounts mercilessly, the great beasts surging forward at full speed. They ate up the distance to the enemy lines quickly, and Fitz realized that the enemy soldiers were trying to form a wall, but the jarring impact of the armoured horses of the Bodden Knights shattered it like a mighty hammer. Fitz stabbed down with his sword, neatly skewering a man in the throat. He pulled the blade out, and with great precision, slashed at the next one in line. The unlucky man fell back howling in pain, a cut to his face. All around Fitz, his knights were raining down swords and axes on the enemy. He pivoted his horse slightly as two men rushed him with spears, deflecting one with his shield while his sword broke the shaft of the other. His horse kicked out, striking a man in the chest, forcing him to the ground in agony. Collectively, the knights delivered their vengeance upon the enemy that had held them prisoners in the Keep for so long.

  The top of the command tent was plainly in view, but as he drove the charge closer, a resistance was being organized. A swarm of men stood behind the thin line, moving to mount a defence, and he knew the objective was now out of reach. They chipped away at the defenders, striking down the enemy as they came closer, forcing them back with the mass of their horses. The first line broke, and suddenly the knights were unopposed, surrounded by little more than stragglers, but the enemies sacrifice had bought the time the second line needed to form a shield wall, long spears now set to receive them. Sir Charles charged boldly forward only to impale himself on a long spear; others tried hacking away uselessly with their swords, helpless to do more.

  Gerald brought the infantry in as fast as he could. They followed the path of the stampede, around the south end of the Keep. He was able to pick up the pace on this flatter land, making better time than expected. There was no resistance; the enemy was fleeing west, hoping to form up with the remainder of their troops. The stampede had spent itself, running off to the southwest, now the battle was up to them.

  They rounded the Keep, to witness the Knights of Bodden surrounded in a sea of enemy soldiers. Fitz the Elder hacked away with his calm, efficient strokes, then the enemy troops broke revealing a second line. Gerald called to his captains, and they formed a line of their own, intending on approaching the enemy from the south, forcing their foes to turn from the cavalry to face his new threat

  He looked at his troops and used the hilt of his sword to hammer away at his shield like a drum. The action was taken up by the men, and suddenly, all across the valley, the sound echoed like the drums of doom, calling them to the Afterlife. The soldiers, previously exhausted, were invigorated by the pounding, cheered and began their slow, steady advance towards the enemy.

  Fitz the Elder, hearing the rhythmic thumping, saw the men forming to the south and instantly knew what it meant. He called to his knights to have them form up; they were spent by the effort they had already given but obeyed his command. This was the final stroke, the final blow to ruin the enemy, he thought, and it must be perfectly executed.

  The invader's line watched the cavalry withdraw, while they heard the drumbeats coming from the south. The enemy commander did the only thing he could and tried to turn half his line to face the new threat. It was a complicated manoeuvre; the men on the right flank would have to back up, all the while trying to keep the line intact. His soldiers were not trained for this, and as the line began to move, it grew less distinct, wavering as soldiers tried to coordinate a drill they had never practised.

  Fitz saw the opportunity and committed his forces. He led a handful of knights southward, just out of reach of the spears. They suddenly turned north,
straight into the enemy line. The spears were out, but not evenly, and it was a simple matter to knock the tips aside to get past them. The foot soldiers were all looking at the ground as they tried to stay in formation while they backed up.

  The enemy realized what was happening too late; the line disintegrated under the onslaught of the cavalry. They dropped their weapons and fled, while a cheer went up from the Knights of Bodden.

  Fitz spied the enemy commander; he was mounted and turning to flee. The baron drove his horse forward, but the Mercerian warhorse was no match for the enemy's fleet mount. The leader rode north, past the lines, while Fitz looked on with regret.

  Beverly brought her cavalry around the north of the Keep to see the fighting in the west. She halted her men, allowing the horses to catch their breath. The enemy line began to pivot, and then a small group of Bodden Knights struck, sending the enemy fleeing in all directions. A cheer broke out amongst her men and then, just as she was starting to relax, she spied a lone horseman sprinting north.

  She broke Lightning into a gallop, calling for her men to follow. Her horse was a Mercerian Charger, a large horse built to carry weight, but he did not wear the traditional horse armour that the Bodden Knights carried. He leaped forward with pent-up energy, and she changed their course to intercept the rider by the drainage ditch that ran away from the Keep. She was part way there when she saw Captain Caster. He, too, had seen the enemy commander fleeing, and was almost upon him. She watched as he skillfully directed his horse in front of the man, causing him to veer off to the side. As the horses came together, she saw swords flash, and then the enemy commander fell from his horse. Arnim dismounted to stand over the commander, who was clutching his side with his hands.

  Beverly rode over, accompanied by some of her men, “What in the name of Saxnor are you doing way over here?” she asked.

  “The princess sent me to check on the battle. She can’t see the western side of the Keep from her vantage point. I noticed this man trying to get away, thought he might be someone important.”

  “Impressive,” she said, “and here I thought you were just a bodyguard.”

  Arnim didn’t reply. Instead, he reached down and helped the injured man to his feet. “Do you surrender?” he asked.

  The enemy commander nodded, “Yes, I surrender, and I offer my parole.”

  “There’s no parole for rebels,” Arnim replied, a grim look on his face.

  The man looked defeated but had no other option. Arnim tied his prisoner's hands behind his back, and then two soldiers helped lift him back onto his horse. Arnim took the reins and started to lead it back toward Bodden.

  “Beverly, my dear,” cried a familiar voice, “it’s so good to see you!”

  She turned in the saddle, “Father! I’m glad you made it. I was beginning to think we’d have to do this all by ourselves.”

  The baron smiled, “Quite the battle. Who organized the stampede? It was absolutely incredible.”

  “That,” she replied, “was Lady Albreda. She told me she owed you a debt of honour.”

  Her father looked stunned and just sat, staring at her.

  “How about,” she continued, “we go inside Bodden and prepare to receive the princess. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you.”

  “The princess is here?”

  “Yes, we just marched from Kingsford where we defeated a small army.”

  “An army? Is the whole realm at war?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s head in, and I’ll tell you all about it, but no cheese!”

  Thirty-Four

  After the Battle

  Spring 960 MC

  They all met that evening in the map room. The princess had insisted that all her commanders be present, including Baron Fitzwilliam. The Lady Albreda chose to grace them with her presence. Anna was sitting at the huge map table, dwarfed by its size, and as always, Tempus lay at her feet. The scene reminded Beverly of her own experience as a child, fascinated by the maps her father had collected.

  Revi, being the last of her advisors to arrive, entered the room apologizing for his tardiness and then stopped suddenly, looking at Beverly.

  “You’re wearing a dress,” he declared out loud.

  Beverly looked back at him, “Of course I’m wearing a dress, Bodden is my home. Why wouldn’t I wear one?”

  “No reason,” he continued, “it’s just that you look like a woman.”

  Beverly’s face burned, “I AM a woman. What’s wrong with you?”

  "I always think of you as a knight. I suppose I never saw you as a woman before.”

  “Are you done?” she asked, irritably. “The princess has important matters to discuss.”

  “Of course,” he said, “forgive my interruption, Your Highness.”

  Anna smiled, looking like she was trying hard to stifle a giggle. “I have called you all here to listen to your opinions on what we should do next. Who would like to go first?”

  Gerald broke the silence. “Do we have word from Arnim yet?” he asked.

  “He’s been interrogating the enemy commander,” Anna responded, “and he'll join us as soon as he has something to report. Gerald, what is the condition of the troops?”

  “We’ve sustained light casualties again, Your Highness. Due to Master Revi here, we’ve been able to recover most of them, though there are still more to be healed.”

  Anna turned to the mage, “Master Bloom, how long to heal the rest?”

  The mage placed his fingers on his chin, and Beverly saw him echo her father's favourite thinking pose. “I should think I’ll have them all healed up by the end of tomorrow, though it will tax my abilities. I would like some time to recover before we march.”

  “I was thinking of a full day of rest, so that fits in well with my plans. Lord Richard, is there enough food to outfit the army for the march?

  “Unfortunately, no, there is not. I’ve enough stores to last to Tewsbury if you ration them carefully. I had thought to send riders on ahead to arrange for food to be rounded up in advance of your march.”

  “Do you have someone you can trust to see to the provisioning?”

  “Yes, my brother-in-law, Lord Robert Brandon of Hawksburg. He’s a very accomplished man, Your Highness. I’ve already taken the liberty of writing to him in your name. You have only to give the word, and the dispatch rider will be on his way.”

  “Thank you, Baron,” she said. “I’d like to add a letter to your dispatch rider to deliver to Uxley when he finishes at Hawksburg.”

  “Of course, Your Highness, I’ll ensure it’s delivered.”

  “Excellent,” said the princess. “I’ll write it out after we finish here. Lady Albreda, I believe you wanted a chance to speak?”

  The druid rose from her chair, “I do, Your Highness, though I regret it may not be the most cheerful of news.”

  “Please proceed,” encouraged Anna.

  “At the behest of the princess, I have, this evening, cast an augury, to help us decide on our best course of action.”

  “How accurate are these auguries?” asked Gerald.

  Albreda turned to look at him. “An augury tells what might occur; it is not necessarily cast in stone. There are some that believe they are warnings about what might happen. Others believe it tells what will happen, regardless of attempts to prevent them.”

  “The Elves have always presumed them to be true,” offered Lord Greycloak. “We place great store in them.”

  “I’ve never been one to believe in a predefined destiny,” said Beverly’s father. “I believe we all have the right to self-determination.”

  “Regardless of what we believe,” said Anna, “I think we should at least hear her out. What did this augury portent, Albreda?”

  Albreda closed her eyes to recall the words she had spoken while under the spell., “A shadow grips the land, silencing the Royal House of Merceria,” she said. “These words came to me exactly as I have spoken them.”

  The room fell into si
lence while everyone contemplated the meaning. There was little space for wiggle room, thought Beverly; the end of the Royal House was extremely specific.

  The silence was broken by the princess. “We shall bear your words in mind, Lady Albreda. Thank you.”

  “If the crown is in danger,” said Gerald, “then we should waste no time marching to Wincaster.”

  “We cannot march until the wounded are tended to,” interjected Beverly. “We need every man we can get.”

  The door opened, and Captain Arnim Caster entered the room. He bowed to the princess, “Your Highness,” he said, “I have finished the interrogation of the prisoner.”

  “Have you news?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is as you feared, Highness. The man was colluding with the Earl of Eastwood. The western thrusts were meant to draw the troops away from Wincaster. By now the earl has an army marching on the capital. We must hasten to their defence.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Anna. “This at least confirms what we already suspected.”

  “My men are at your disposal, Highness,” said Baron Fitzwilliam.

  “Thank you, Baron, but troops are still needed to hold Bodden, lest the Norlanders take advantage of your position. Do you have someone capable of handling the defence of the Keep? I should like to have you accompany the army.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. Might I suggest the Bodden Knights come with us? They would provide some much needed heavy cavalry for the army. I’m sure Dame Beverly is more than capable of commanding them.”

  Anna looked at Beverly, who simply nodded. “Very well, we shall place Dame Beverly in charge of the knights.”