As sunrise, the Healdend rode with him to join the Fyrd as they prepared to cross the border in Kania.
‘And you think this plan will work?’ Driscol was genuinely afraid that things were going to go poorly.
‘I am hopeful that not too many lives will be lost.’ Conn advised. ‘We know that very few are happy with the Aebeling, so with the opportunity of change presented to them, they may well grasp it with both hands.’
Conn had arranged a march past and they were led out by Bram, Folctoga of Moetia, now fit and healthy, at the head of the three hundred wiga that had trained with Conn’s fyrd. Conn saluted them as they passed, and although the symbolism was lost on him, Driscol did the same.
The Moetian, like the entire Fyrd behind them, were resplendent in new uniforms – a mishmash of technologies. The first layer was a silk Happi, followed by the long sleeved cotton padded gambeson, a chain mail byrnie, and finally a full blue linen tabard that sported the symbol of Moetia.
Conn’s wiga had a tabard of brown and green; in the brown half was Conn’s golden sun emblem, while the green half had a range of motifs that identify each company from a distance. Being Silekian, they also carried symbols from each of the Eaorldoms in Silekia – Wilga il Melnik had the wild boar emblem on his tabard.
The first Susa company was led by Arlen while the second by Leogar il Farah; the second son of the Earl of Farah. Conn had disappointed his ambitions to become Eaorl of Susa – he was next in line – so had offered him a commission as Captain in his fyrd. Their tabards were half brown and half blue.
Driscol looked at Conn as his company passed. ‘He was always a frivolous young man – has he improved?’
Conn nodded. ‘Indeed he has. If he wants to be a noble now, he has to do it the hard way.’
The Moetians were followed by eight companies of Silekian Sagittari – his so called light cavalry based on the famous Mongol cavalry. Lightly but adequately armoured because their main weapon was the bow, they rode horses that were both light and fast; and with their genetics based on his Arabian stallion, they were predominantly grey. They were followed by four companies of Cataphracts, his heavy cavalry, and the sight of them clearly unsettled Driscol. Instead of gambesons, they wore metal reinforced brigandines over their three quarter hauberk chainmail, and as well as the extra armour on the rider, they had extra on their legs and on the chest and necks of their horses. These were the strike fighters of his force – they were designed to hit a line of wiga at speed and cut through them like butter; they carried a long lance, as well as the ubiquitous sword, dagger, and a bow and quiver. These horses were some of Conn’s finest; big and strong, and uniformly black. Even Conn was impressed. Combined he only had just over 1500 cavalry – but they were as good as could be found anywhere.
Second last to pass were another six companies – four of pikemen and two of bowmen – albeit they had horses drawn from local supplies to get them to the battle front. They were followed by eight companies of support staff – pipers, drummers, medics, signallers and cooks – with several hundred pack animals carrying supplies for several months on the campaign. As someone famous once said that ‘an army marched on its stomach’, and Conn had no intention of letting his fyrd run out of food or supplies. He needed regime change in Kania also to ensure an effective resupply route for his forces in Troas. An immense quantity of supplies waited in Menia for delivery.
With everyone included there was almost three times as many horses as wiga; and marching 3 a breast, each mile would take 300 cavalry, so the entire column would be almost 8 miles long. And it was a small fyrd. Nonetheless, it would take Conn some effort to regain his spot at the front of the cavalry.
As the last man passed, Driscol took a deep breath. ‘I’m truly glad I’m on your side, Thane, I don’t know if I have ever seen a fryd or wiga of this quality before; and a fyrd this strong is not necessarily a good thing. Anyway, you might not have to fight Gorman – he’ll probably die of fright when he sees them.’
‘One can only hope.’
He still looked concerned. ‘I wish you good health. The thought of this fyrd without you in charge fills me with dread. Let us hope that not too much blood is spilled in Kania – and certainly not yours. So please take care.’ With that, he shook Conn’s hand, and rode away.
With Driscol gone, Conn cantered the miles until he joined Halla and Derryth at the front of the long line of wiga.
‘What took you so long?’ Derryth chided him. ‘It is almost lunchtime.’
‘First things first – let’s get rid of Gorman.’
‘Hope it doesn’t take too long. I’m hungry already.’
As soon as Gorman’s scouts spotted his fyrd, Conn signalled for the drummer to start a beat and with a large roar, the fyrd scattered into position; spreading out over the country side. Luckily this part of Kania was largely open woodland and light forest, and they had an unimpeded trip to the battle front, and half an hour out, the pipers were signalled to join in.
Gorman had positioned his forces well; on the hillside opposing a small river. It would normally have a much larger amount of water flowing but the latter part of winter was unseasonably dry and still cold; the snow from the winter peaks had still to melt to any great level. It all helped Conn – but didn’t aid Gorman. As Conn crested the final hill, he signalled the drummer to cause his fyrd to stop.
Waiting for them was Esras. Scouts had joined up with Esras’s troop and had brought him to Conn’s position. Brit raced forward to greet her father, and he actually cried; four months away and she was not the same girl he had sent away.
Conn rode up to the pair. ‘I return her to you safe and sound.’
Esras wiped the tears from his face. ‘I see that. Thank you. She reminds me so much of her mother now. She has certainly blossomed – no longer the wild mountain girl.’ Gathering his thoughts he turned to Conn.
‘So what happens now? There are a lot of men over that hill.’
‘I’m going to go and have a little chat. I would like you to follow soon.’
After assuring that all would be well, Conn took with a dozen men, including two pipers who played as they travelled, and headed over the hill towards the Kanians.
‘There are certainly a lot of men over there…’ Derryth observed as the Kanian forces came into view as they headed for the river and forded across to the other side. ‘Not many cavalry or bowmen, it would seem.’
Gorman did not have a strong cavalry; Conn had declined to sell them horses so they remained small and slower than his breeds. Kania had also never been a prosperous demesne, though the Eaorldoms were typically larger than most others, the years of isolation since the rise of the influence of Rakia had brought even less prosperity. What they did have was numbers, but little in the way of skill. The stronger elements were a home guard of mercenaries – some of which were from Cyme – while others were from Rakia. Recently, however, the numbers of mercenaries had declined, due in some part to the fact that several hundred were under guard in Menia; their ships having surrendered in lieu of being sunk while on their way from Rakia to Kania. Conn had implemented a blockade of the Bay with his ships in Menia, and very few ships had gotten through.
Conn explained what he knew of the force confronting them.
‘So it shouldn’t be too hard to rout this lot?’
‘I’m trying to avoid that. I think that they are on our side – it is just the Aebeling who isn’t.’
‘And you are sure we are not going to be met with a shower of arrows. It is too nice a day to die like that…’
‘I don’t think so – he just wants us to turn around – even he knows he can’t win this battle – but there will be significant casualties on both sides. The Rakians have told him that we are not to get through.’
Messages that had been intercepted on the Rakian ships were very clear on the objective – do not let the ‘Feorrancund’ pass. Conn also knew that most of the Eaorls did not actually want fight the ‘Feorr
ancund’, but had turned up because not doing so would result in being declared a traitor.
‘I hope you are right – even I can’t save you from a thousand arrows.’
By the time they arrived within shouting distance of the Kanians, it was obvious that the ‘welcome’ party looked dishevelled; any semblance of order and control was gone; the horses were terrified of the sound that continued to play as Conn and his group rode up to the line of Kanian wiga. As they got closer, Conn signalled a stop to the music.
Eventually the person who looked like he could be the Aebeling struggled to the front of his Fyrd. At his side was Theostan, Eaorl of Dor – who looked at Conn with rage. Behind them arrived five very attractive wiga – dressed like Halla, they were members of his Valkeri bodyguard.
‘What is that infernal racket?’ He yelled. As he spoke Conn could hear the Ratakian Gyden in the Aebeling’s head. He must be wearing one of those black stones around his neck.
‘Bagpipes from Taransay. Would you like to hear some more?’ Conn asked innocently.
‘No, I do not. What I want is for you to turn your … your rabble around and return to Lykia. I am not letting you go through Kania. It will not happen.’
‘Why are you sure that I won’t just try?’
‘You would be a fool’ The Aebeling laughed. ‘I have five thousand wiga. You will never pass. You have what – less than one thousand…’
Conn shook his head. ‘Not quite – I have a few more than that.’ Conn signalled the drummer, and a beat was heard across the valley. This was the signal for his force to make its presence felt, and within thirty minutes, the hills to the west were covered with wiga. A second beat started and Bram and his Lykians soon arrived; albeit further away, and in the east. The next beat of the drums and Esras’s wiga appeared from the south.
‘Can you defend from all quarters? I grant you that you have more wiga than me, but every single one of mine will die for me. I’d like you to meet some of them before you decide to fight.’
Already nervous at the sight of so many wiga, the Eaorls started to natter and talk amongst themselves. The Aebeling turned and yelled at them.
‘Do not listen to him; he is playing with your minds; you will be protected behind a wall of the best infantry in Kania. Nothing will get through.’
Conn signalled the drummer gain, and with different beat, a squad of ten of the heavily armoured Cataphracts cantered down and up the hill. They stopped and lowered their lances
Conn did the honors. ‘I would like you to meet my Cataphracts. You will meet them again when they charge this encampment, and I hope that you will be able to get out of the way. There are 500 of them, so I doubt that you will do it with ease.’ Conn ordered them to yield and they returned to the bottom of the hill. ‘They prefer a longer run up’ he explained.
A different beat ensured and a company of Sagittari arrived; the wiga brimming with bows and hundreds of arrows.
‘These are my Sagittari – they have a range about fifty yards longer than your bowmen. I have nearly two thousands of them. I intend them to fire from that hill side to this hillside; they are accurate even at that distance.’ They too yielded and returned down the hill.
The disquiet in the crowd continued but the Aebeling was silent. The Eaorls were all very scared but Conn was relieved to find that he was yet to scare the Aebeling. The noise in his head was too strong for that. He was however starting to look very angry.
‘Gorman,’ Conn decided to be conciliatory. ‘You have everything to lose and nothing to be gained by fighting. I grant that you have more men than me – but you will have to admit that mine look a lot better than yours. They are also very loyal – all will die and not yield unless I say so. Can you rely on your wiga or Eaorls? Do you really think that they can withstand a bombardment of ten thousand arrows and a charge of my Cataphracts?’
Gorman’s hands were clenched together. Gorman was struggling and the voice inside his head sensed that as well, and it fought to bolster his resolve. Conn needed to push him just a little further.
‘Though I must admit, I’m a little unsure about the loyalty of some of my people. Would you like to meet her?’
Conn signalled again, and four riders approached them. Gorman’s eyes flew from one to another, he obviously knew about Halla as he didn’t respond. He was more surprised when he saw Derryth, and his voice showed disbelief. ‘What is a Twacuman doing here? A Twacuman will not take up arms against me.’
Derryth nodded. ‘Maybe – maybe not. However, I’m just observing – watching the Thane doing his stuff is the most fun I’ve had in sixty years.’
Conn interrupted him. ‘Not him, it’s this one. Do you think I can rely on her?’
Gorman was becoming exasperated, ‘Why are you asking me, I don’t know…’ He stopped when she removed the scarf from her head. ‘Esme? Gyden, it looks like Esme …’ Behind him were shocked people also; relatives of both Esme and Esras were in the crowd of Eaorls and Thanes.
Brit spoke, ‘No cousin, I am not Esme, I am her daughter...’
‘Brit? I thought you were dead. Gyden, you look like your mother…. But how … why are … what are you doing with the… the… Lykians?’
Brit laughed, ‘He’s not a Lykian. I thought you would have noticed that. Somehow, I don’t think he is from these parts at all.’
Gorman looked back at Conn. ‘So, Feorrancund, why is the daughter of my traitor uncle riding with you?’
‘Brit is betrothed to the Healdend of Moetia’s cousin, and her father has promised him an Eaorldom as a wedding gift.’
‘And what Eaorldom is ‘Uncle’ Esras going to give him’ He snarled and spat out this question. Conn could feel that the Gyden’s influence was fading; pure rage was starting to take over.
‘My Grandfather’s – or I should say, OUR grandfather’s.’ Brit answered sincerely. ‘You usurped it from my father, after you raped and murdered my mother. It is my birth-right, and I want it back.’ Conn was very pleased with her performance, though these words were now off script. She was ad-libbing.
Gorman had turned his back on her to face his fyrd, and her words hit him hard. The crowd gasped; Theostan gasped – but for different reasons. He twirled back at her.
‘How DARE you accuse me of such an act.’ In front of everyone he had been accused of theft, rape and murder, and his face was now turning red. ‘You will recant your words or you will die.’
‘Make me; raping, murdering, bastard son of an Ancuman sow.’
The girl was definitely off the rehearsed speech now. She released her cloak and taunted him further – she was beautiful and her armour accentuated her figure. ‘Sometimes I have doubted that you did rape my mother – perhaps you just killed her – is it true that young boys are what you prefer to have in your chamber at night?’ Insult upon insult.
Gorman was not used to being spoken to like this and it was too much for him. All restraint fled, he drew his sword and leapt to attack the girl; the first strike missing her by inches as she rolled out of his reach.
Conn reached for his sword, but Halla stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. ‘Leave her, she will be fine.’
Conn instead tossed his wakizashi, which she caught coming out of the roll. Gorman attacked again, and the clang of swords rang out down the valley. Some of Gorman’s men were about to intervene but with a quick signal, Conn’s guard, as well as Halla and Derryth, had arrows pointing at the Eaorls, and they desisted. They seemed happy they didn’t have to intervene.
Brit had spent the last months training with Halla, and she was no mere pampered girl to start with. So it was not surprising that, despite his weight and reach advantage, it was soon clear that she was his match. Every swing tired and frustrated him and he was soon exposing himself to counter attack. His increasing frustration didn’t help, and it was not long before he over extended and Brit took advantage of his mistake. He looked in shock at the wakizashi that appeared so suddenly in his chest. He fell to hi
s knees, his sword falling from his hand
Behind him the Eaorl of Dor took his chance and reached for a knife from his belt. Knife throwing was something the Rakians trained hard at, but he was too slow; he had hardly raised the knife before Conn’s dagger and two arrow were imbedded in his chest. He looked up with total surprise before he fell to his knees and then his face.
Conn got in first. ‘That doesn’t count – your arrow arrived after my knife.’ He was talking to Derryth.
‘It did not. My arrow got to him first. I think I have officially saved your life. We are even.’
Halla shook her head sadly as she walked over and retrieved the arrows and Conn’s knife. ‘You are both children. The kill shot was mine – and you both know it.’
The silence was broken by the arrival of Esras. As soon as Esras had seen his nephew strike at Brit he had galloped up the slope to defend his daughter, but by the time he had arrived and dismounted, Gorman was dying. The last face he saw was of his uncle, the man he hated the most in the entire world.
‘Damn you, damn all of you.’ were his last words as he fell to the ground.
Halla went to the body and retrieved the blade, wiping it clean on his clothes; she returned it to Conn with the dagger. ‘Told you.’
Esras was livid – ‘You didn’t tell me that she was going to be at risk – that wasn’t part of the plan!
‘True’, Conn said, ‘But I didn’t know she was going to accuse him of rape and murder either – that wasn’t part of the script. Anyway, she possibly has as much a right as you to sink a blade into his stomach.’ Conn looked around at the Kanians. None had moved. They didn’t really know what to do; they had lost the momentum and their leader; they waited.
Conn walked with Esras to the Eaorls. He spoke aloud. ‘As we say in Taransay, “The king is dead, long live the king”. I’m going to give you a few seconds to consider your options before I order my men to start firing. So what do you say…?’
The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) Page 3