‘As you will,’ said Ranulf. ‘Just be sure you’re alert at first light to resume your duties.’
Two hours after dark, the camp had settled to a familiar routine. Six guards had taken first watch around its periphery and these sat beside small fires. Others sprawled on the ground as they played dice by the firelight in the main camp. Some, who would be on guard duty later, had chosen to steal a few hours sleep.
Irvine strolled around the camp edge having brief words with the guards. Then, happy the camp was under no immediate threat, he decided to take advantage of the dim light provided by a full moon and clear sky. Quietly, he walked to the nearest bunch of shrubbery, sixty paces distant.
Here, he observed the hoof prints of Will’s pony. Stooping to get a closer look, he could see the prints were fresh and led away from the camp. It’s not where you’re going, but where you came from, he thought, as he strained to see beyond the moon-shadow cast by the shrubs. He could see enough to follow the tracks backwards as they encircled, then led away from the camp.
He tensed as he noticed the tracks led to a group of bushes that provided a good overlook of the camp. They’ve been watching us! The thought made his skin tingle and heart race. He patted his waist checking on the position of his knife. Not sure if anyone still lingered behind the bushes, he decided to take a look.
After taking a looping rout to bring him to the back of the bushes, he paused and listened. Yes, it was unmistakable; he could hear breathing … slow laboured breathing. He removed his knife and, crouching and silent, made his way to the base of the shrub. There, illuminated by moon glow, slept a youth. A recurved, laminate bow was on the ground beside him; a full quiver of well-crafted arrows propped up against the bushes.
Tomas opened his eyes just as Irvine stooped over him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Eight uneventful but arduous days passed before Dominic and his company of five once again feasted their eyes on distant Brythonfort.
Murdoc squinted and held his hand against the low sun. ‘I’ll never get sick of looking at it,’ he said to Withred,
Three miles distant, the earthwork buttress rose grandly from the surrounding flat countryside.
Murdoc twisted in his saddle to witness Maewyn and Elowen’s first ever sight of Brythonfort. He turned back to Withred. ‘It’s the first time since we set out from Guertepir’s fort that I’ve seen them look anything other than devastated.’
Withred briefly observed the children himself. ‘That’s the magic of Brythonfort for you,’ he said, smiling at Murdoc. ‘It makes you forget yourself; pushes your troubles away with its impressive bulk.’
Murdoc nodded towards Flint who rode ahead with Dominic. ‘It will take them all a long time to get over the death of that dear lad, but especially Flint; he blames himself for not catching the pony when it bolted down the hill.’
‘I know, and try and tell him otherwise and he just won’t have it,’ said Withred. ‘He’s an angry man just now. Nerthus help any Saxon he comes across.’
Gherwan and a group of riders approached. Dominic met him when a mile from Brythonfort.
‘Twenty-one days since you left us, Dom,’ shouted Gherwan. ‘Hibernia and back in twenty-one days. It’s no wonder you’re becoming a legend in these parts.’
Dominic’s tone was heavy. ‘A legend would have come back with everything he went for. The older boy, Aiden—the one they called Mule—drowned in a Hibernian harbor protecting his cousin.’
Gherwan had noticed that just two children rode with the group. He waited until Flint reached him—his expression rendering words unnecessary.
Flint’s face was as stark and pale as the toneless November day. ‘The men who caused this must die,’ he said simply, as he passed by Gherwan and began the climb up to Brythonfort’s one gate.
A sad, reflective group of people sat with Arthur in the hall later that afternoon. Will had also arrived that morning to report the situation from the countryside to Arthur.
A long discussion ensued, and Dominic, Withred and Murdoc listened with fascination and much trepidation to Arthur’s consequent plan to deal with Ranulf.
Flint sat with Elowen and Maewyn, awaiting the arrival of Nila and Govan. He fidgeted, nervous of their arrival.
An air of solemnity permeated the hall, causing its occupants to fall to silence now that Dominic and Will had delivered their briefings. All now dreaded the coming of Nila and Govan.
Arthur drummed the table and looked from under his brow at the door. He darted his glance to Dominic, Murdoc and Withred, thanking the Gods of fortune for bringing men of their caliber to Brythonfort. With them on his side, he knew he had a real chance of dealing with the flood of raids heading towards the western lands.
His thoughts dispersed when the door opened. Nila and Govan walked in—their faces a mixture of expectation and dread. They looked to the table. We should have forewarned them, thought Arthur. They have no idea who made it back.
Elowen was up at once and ran to Govan, who received her in his arms with a choking cry of relief. As the sound of their reunion filled the hall with its amalgam of joy and tears, Nila looked blankly around the room, her panic slowly rising as Flint and Maewyn approached her, their faces bleak and crestfallen. Their look, as much as Mule’s absence, told her what she needed to know.
Arthur, Dominic, Withred and Murdoc closed their eyes in unison, their faces bleak as Nila screamed her maternal loss at the room. Repeatedly, her screams seared through the hall, as Flint and Maewyn stood embracing and rocking her, as if the rocking would exorcise her desolation and send it to another place.
Dominic and Withred, both weeping themselves now, left the hall, unable to cope with the intensity of Nila’s grief. Murdoc sat with Arthur, their talk sombre and low.
Modlen awaited outside. The boys, Ula and Art played nearby. Her brown eyes were moist and troubled as she heard the sound of Nila’s distress from within the hall. As Withred walked from the hall, Modlen went to him. It was the first time she had ever seen the granite-hard Angle weep. He accepted her embrace.
‘Ranulf killed the son and effectively the mother by raiding their village,’ said Withred brokenly. ‘And now he approaches this land again.’
After a moment of quiet reflection, Modlen went to Dominic. She hugged him and said: ‘It’s so good to get you back, Dom.’
He looked at the boys who leapt about in their play nearby. Swiping away his own tears, he attempted to lighten his tone. ‘Look at them; well-nourished and lively … but why would that surprise me; you’ve had a lifetime of trying to fill the belly of that bull of a husband of yours.’
Modlen’s eyes dropped. Aware of her sudden anxiety, Dominic gently touched her arm.
She met his gaze, her tone desperate. ‘He’s gone, Dom. Three days ago, I woke to find him gone. He’s left for Norwic to search for Cate. I knew he would. It was driving him mad.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tomas shuddered and thought of Egbert as he looked into Ranulf’s cold eyes.
Egbert had been his tormentor for two years after the raid on his village—a raid that had resulted in the death of his parents and sister. The man had been a monster, pure and simple; a monster who had regularly beaten and humiliated him during his tenure as his slave.
Eventually Tomas had been able to escape from the clutches of Egbert. Then he had met Dominic and his life had changed completely.
Now as he looked at Ranulf, he saw Egbert. Worse still, he saw Egbert’s detached and emotionless eyes. Like Egbert’s, they were dead. The eyes of a doll.
‘Tell us what you know and I might just consent to kill you quickly,’ said Ranulf as Irvine pushed Tomas towards him.
Shakily, and knowing it would be the severest folly to lie to the man, Tomas replied. ‘I have been following you for over a week.’
‘And the purpose of your scrutiny?’ asked Ranulf.
‘To keep an eye on you and warn Arthur of your intent regarding his lands.
’
‘Seemingly a warning that has already begun,’ Ranulf said as he glanced towards Irvine. ‘My scout has read the tracks and tells me you had a companion—a companion who is already scampering back to Arthur as we speak.’
Again, Tomas could see no sense in refuting this. Two years under Saxon bondage had taught him it was better not to risk their ire by denying what was patently obvious to them. He knew his life was uncertain now, so he had to think quickly. Had to buy himself time.
‘Yes, I had a companion; a man named Will,’ said Tomas. ‘He is to bring Arthur’s men down upon you within two days.’
Irvine had become alert upon hearing Will’s name. ‘I know the man,’ he said. ‘Our paths crossed briefly when we scouted for Rome. A good tracker he is; a man who will have no trouble leading Arthur to us.’
Cursing, Ranulf left Tomas and walked towards the fire as he weighed his options. He stopped at the fire, took his dagger from his belt, and then turned his attention back to Tomas. ‘I promised you a quick death and I will keep to my word, but first I must consider if you are of any further use to me.’ He walked to Tomas, grabbed him by the chest, and placed the blade of the dagger across his throat. ‘So before I slide this steel across your gullet and bleed you out, tell me … are you any use to me?’
Before Tomas could answer, Irvine spoke. ‘The boy knows the land and no doubt knows which way Arthur’s men will come. Maybe he could lead us away from him … lead us to a village.’
‘Or we could fight Arthur and get this done with once and for all,’ said Ranulf. He stared at Tomas, his knife still pressing against his neck. ‘What say you boy?’
Tomas, wide-eyed and hardly daring to breathe as he looked into Ranulf’s rabid eyes, gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. ‘No, it would be your end if you took on Arthur,’ he mumbled. ‘H-he outnumbers you by one hundred men and his knights fight the Roman way. You would have no chance against them.’
‘Do you know which way they will come then?’
Tomas knew that Ranulf would swipe the knife across his throat the instant he gave an answer that did not suit him. He had to buy time … that or die. He thought quickly. ‘I know the way they will come, yes,’ he said. ‘I can also lead you into the western lands, away from them, if you wish to continue your campaign.’
Ranulf considered this. He had just concluded that his only option was to withdraw from the west; admit defeat; return to Griff empty handed. What the boy had said about the might of Arthur’s force made it almost inevitable. Now, though, there might be another way. If the boy could lead them away from Arthur—lead them to a village to plunder as Irvine had earlier implied, then perhaps they could get something out of this.
He looked to Irvine for guidance on the matter. Irvine nodded, his look telling Ranulf, might as well hear what he has to say.
Ranulf took the knife from Tomas’s neck and pushed him an arm’s length away. ‘You do know that there is no guarantee for you in this. Do as you say and I might, just might, let you live. Let me down—and that means lead us anywhere near to Arthur’s knights—and I will kill you as soon as I see them. That will be the first thing I do upon seeing any mounted men come against us. To kill you will be my immediate priority if I see but one rider.’
Tomas’ mouth was grit-dry as he considered Ranulf’s words. His life teetered on the edge of an abyss; he knew that only too well. He also knew what he must do now, and what the likely consequences of his actions would be.
He answered Ranulf. ‘I will not give you reason to kill me, why would I? I will lead you to a place where Arthur expects you not to go.’
Ranulf studied Tomas, his head cocked to one side as he tried to figure the boy out. ‘And you would do this thing? To save your own skin you would lead me to your own folk?’
Tomas looked tellingly at Irvine then back to Ranulf. ‘Do not be surprised,’ he said. ‘I would not be the first Briton to ride against his own kin.’
The next morning, allowed to ride at the front of the group alongside Irvine, Tomas led the group northwards.
The change in direction was not lost upon Irvine. ‘I take it that this is a temporary change of course, designed to take us away from Arthur?’
‘Yes, Brythonfort lies directly westwards from here. Arthur will have set out as soon as the sun rose. He can be no more than a day’s ride from us now.’
Irvine seemed troubled at this. ‘But as soon as he sees our present tracks he will be on our tails; a day behind, granted, but after us just the same.’
‘That’s why I chose this route,’ said Tomas. ‘Several wide, shallow rivers cross the land ahead. Their shale and gravel beds will hide our tracks. Arthur will be left with nothing to follow.’
Irvine gave a half smile, and now curious of Tomas’ motivation, regarded him. ‘You really think Ranulf will let you live after this?’ he asked.
Tomas shrugged. ‘Who knows? One thing’s for sure though; I’m alive now and that didn’t seem likely yesterday.’
Irvine smiled to himself. He knew that whatever the outcome, Ranulf would either kill or enslave Tomas.
Later that morning, true to Tomas’ assurance, they crossed three wide, shallow rivers. The third river ran westwards and they continued along it stony bottom for two miles, the ponies fetlock deep as they splashed through the water. At a point where the river narrowed and began to descend, Tomas and the Saxon group took to the riverbank.
Irvine watched as the calm water changed to an agitated milky-white as it descended and tumbled down the rocky incline before them. Now standing in his saddle, Irvine peered up the track that led from the river.
‘I’ve been here before,’ he said to Tomas, as Ranulf joined them. ‘We came down this track. I remember now. We reached this river and decided to turn around and find another way.’
Ranulf slowly nodded as the surroundings rang a bell with him, also. ‘Yes … yes, you’re right. We did come this way.’ He looked at Tomas, less than happy. ‘Why, then, have you brought us to land we have already cleared?’
‘Quite simple,’ said Tomas. ‘Arthur doesn’t expect to see you here, so he rarely sends men out to this region. His patrols visit land and villages still untouched—the land you were heading to before you found me.’
Ranulf rode over and pushed his face close up to Tomas—so close that Tomas could have counted the pores on Ranulf’s nose, had he the mind to do so.
With simmering incredulity, Ranulf asked, ‘And why do you think I would be interested in following you now into land where there is no plunder?’ He pointed to himself by placing the fingertips of both hands upon his chest. His voice was low and unpleasant as he jutted his chin out towards Tomas and said, ‘Do I look like I need the exercise?’
Uncomfortable at being nose-to-nose with Ranulf, Tomas shifted awkwardly in his saddle, his attempt at a reassuring smile coming across as a nervous and jittery grimace. ‘But there is plunder ahead,’ he said. ‘A newly rebuilt village lays just one day’s ride from here.’
Ranulf, frowning, looked to Irvine for confirmation. Irvine nodded. Ranulf turned his attention back to Tomas. ‘You’re telling me the village I burnt to cinders three moons ago, now stands again?’
‘Not only does it stand, it is full of new people,’ said Tomas, nodding in emphasis. He explained further. ‘Arthur was full of remorse for not protecting the people you burnt to death. That’s why he made it his mission to rebuild the village. Then he found needy people—people who had come upon hard times—and moved them in.’
Ranulf pulled at his lower lip as he thought over what Tomas had just told him. ‘Ah … so you have just told me where I need to go … I see it now.’ Slowly, he ramped up the severity of his tone. ‘And what happens after that? Let me guess … it goes like this: I free you now, then I journey with my men to the village to find that it is still a burnt-out shell. Then just as I scratch my balls because I have nothing better to do, as well as swear to Woden that I will seek, find and kill you if
it takes me the rest of my life, Arthur and his army appear and proceed to practice their sword skills upon us. Have I got that just about right, boy?’
‘Except that you won’t let me go, you are not that foolish,’ said Tomas, knowing that his life was very expendable at that moment. ‘I know that only too well, that is why I have told you the truth.’
‘But your problem now is this,’ said Ranulf in the same unpleasant tone, ‘… whether you speak the truth or not, I don’t need you anymore.’ He impatiently beckoned to a nearby man to donate him his short ax.
Tomas had his answer ready. ‘You do need me; that’s the point,’ he said earnestly. ‘Do you think I would have put my life at risk by telling you about the village if I didn’t have good reason to?’
‘And your reason is?’ asked Ranulf with a skeptical half-smile, as he accepted the ax from his subordinate.
‘I can get you inside,’ said Tomas. ‘Otherwise they will see you coming and bar the gates again. Then you will either have to lay siege—a risky plan within Arthur’s lands—or burn it to the ground again and end up with nothing but charred corpses.’
‘So, I let you go inside and you bar the gates anyway,’ said Ranulf as he studied the ax in his hand as if ready to use it at any moment.
‘And then get burnt to death with the rest of them, I hardly think so.’
Ranulf sighed. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’ He turned to Irvine. ‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘Hear the boy’s plan in finer detail and then either kill him or go with it,’ said Irvine.
Ranulf curled his lip, nodding slowly as he pondered upon Irvine’s words. He looked at Tomas. ‘Speak then,’ he said.
‘We approach at dark when the gates are shut,’ said Tomas. ‘That way, no one sees us coming. Then you press your men against the palisade near to the gate while I shout for entry. Before they open the gates, they need to hear my voice—no other voice will do—followed by this noise “Ki-Ki-Ki” the sound of the merlin. As soon as the gates open you can enter with the men and I go my own way.’
Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Page 48