The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2)

by Michael O'Neill

  ‘So how many boats do you have? Boats that can get men safely across to Motya without getting noticed?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Probably fifteen – carry about two hundred.’

  ‘That will be enough. Also how much bamboo is there around here?’

  ‘Bamboo? Unlimited quantities. What do you need?’

  It took a couple of days to put everything into place and when he explained to Derryth what he had planned; Derryth thought it was a hair brained scheme.

  ‘We will be on foot.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Without food or anything.’

  ‘We have to travel light.’

  ‘Except for the pikes. We are carrying long pikes. Sure we can take coffee?’

  Conn organized a hundred five yard bamboo poles to be affixed with metals spikes on one end. From his ranks he collected a hundred of his best trained pikemen and a hundred Twacuman bowmen, and the rest he sent to join Aelfstan whose fyrd had finally arrived and were now opposing the Rakians across the river.

  It was late at night when Conn gathered his men at the docks. The tide was high, and they loaded the pikes, yari and a lot of arrows on to the boats, and then set out across the bay. It was less than two miles from the fishing village to the coast of Motya, and it was still dark as they guided the boats through the forested river banks and marshlands. Conn had sent two Twacuman ahead to guide the boats in and they made landfall without opposition. With the sun rising, they hid the boats and headed inland.

  It was indeed lightly populated and quite underdeveloped; and they walked through the forests unchallenged until they arrived at the outskirts of the village of the local Thane.

  After being spotted, their banners clearly indicated that they were Silekian, they watched as riders galloped away from the village towards the town.

  Derryth was nonplussed as he watched the riders. “How do you know that he isn’t going to send five hundred of his best?’

  ‘We can take five hundred – and if he send too many, Osdred and Aelfstan will ford the river – and he won’t want that... he will send a small force of cavalry. Let’s go and have some coffee with the Thane.’

  Derryth brightened. ‘You brought some?’

  ‘No, you did – the kitchen told me that you went and asked for some.’

  Derryth was sheepish. ‘Well, three days without coffee is a long time…’

  By the time Conn arrived at the gate of the donjon – which was now closed, the locals had retreated behind the palisades – as primitive as they were. There was no one to be seen. Conn did the civil thing and knocked on the gate.

  A timid ‘Yes?’ came from the other side.

  ‘I am Conn il Taransay, Eoarl of Ilissus and Feorhhyrde.’ If he added to his title it saved the inevitable questions. ‘I wish to speak to your Thane…’

  ‘Feorhhyrde? So it is true that there are Twacuman outside…and the Feorhhyrde has returned…’ There was a pause. ‘Does the Feorhhyrde give his word that none will be harmed?’

  Conn looked at Derryth. Derryth nodded. ‘It was always said that the word of the Feorhhyrde was sacrosanct.’

  Conn was miffed. ‘Did anyone tell me that I wasn’t allowed to lie anymore? No! Someone should write a damn manual.’ He addressed the gate again ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Not your word – the word of the Feorhhyrde.’

  Conn had never had his word being called into question before. He was feeling annoyed. ‘Very well; you have the word of the Feorhhyrde that no one will be harmed.’

  Not long after the gate creaked open and they were confronted by a dozen old and very young wiga protecting a middle aged man. He bowed slightly.

  ‘I am Wilfred, Thane of this village. Welcome, we are pleased to make the acquaintance of the Feorhhyrde – the last was a revered ancestor of all our Silekians ancestors, and my own as well. How can we help you?’

  ‘Do you have any hot water? My friend here’, he pointed to Derryth, who bowed politely, ‘is desirous of a simple cup of coffee. If your water is hot, we have just enough time before the Eaorl comes back with his men to try and kill us.’

  The Thane was stunned and rightly so. It was a very strange request. He looked at his bedda. They nodded. ‘The fire is on – the pot should be boiling…’

  ‘Great – lead the way.’ Conn and Derryth followed the Thane into his longhouse and to the suspended pot in the middle of the room. Derry took the two pannikins that carried in their backpacks and filled them with a rich mixture of coffee and sugar from his travel pack, and then filled the mugs with water with a ladle. After a stir, he handed one back to Conn. Conn then sipped the coffee; its aroma filling the room.

  ‘Ah, thank you. Needed that. Always good to go into battle with a clear head. Particularly if one is in danger of dying.’ Conn fetched a gold Ryal from his pouch and handed it to the Thane. ‘Thank you for the water.’ He then turned and let them out of the room, and through the dusty and decaying yard and out through the palisades. They had finished their coffee by this time, and Conn turned back towards the astounded Thane and his family.

  ‘Thank you Thane. We might come back for some more water later. You probably haven’t heard that new Eaorl of Ilissus, me, is in rebellion against the Healdend of Rakia. The Eaorls of Syra, Hera, Lipara, Soloes, Akarah and Mylae have joined in the rebellion. With any luck, it won’t be long before you are Silekian again. Farewell, I think the enemy has arrived. How far is it to the town?’

  ‘About fifteen miles...’

  Outside they had their first confrontation; the Eaorl of Motya had sent a squad of about fifty riders to deal with the intruders, but they quickly recognized that they were out gunned after their first encounter with the pikes; their charge ended quickly and they retreated before they had almost impaled themselves on the projectiles. They send riders back to the town and then stayed and watched as Conn turned his fyrd around and marched towards the town.

  On the end of town, a larger group of wiga waited for them – this time a mixture of ground troops and archers, and all the while the Calvary had grown to a couple of hundred riders and had gathered behind them as they marched, so as the strike once the ground troops had done their job.

  They unfortunately hadn’t really taken into consideration the hundred archers in the middle of the pikemen – and their misunderstanding of the range and bow strength of Conn’s wiga. The first flight of arrows resulted in significant losses of ground troops, and the following mashed rush of Conn’s fyrd towards the remaining men at arms scattered the rest. The cavalry took the charge as a cue to for them to advance from behind, but the training of the pikemen allowed them to reform in the opposite direction instantaneously and before the horses had a chance to stop, which resulted in horses crashing into each other and throwing their riders, in the desperate attempt to not impale themselves. Conn had no great desire to kill all and sundry but any Rakians Folctoga found themselves as special targets, and few lived to explain their errors.

  The Rakians that survived then just watched helplessly as Conn continued on his merry way into the town; Conn added insult to injury by then having a bagpiper play, with the inhabitants fleeing on sight. It was now dusk and they found themselves in view of the palisades; and in all directions, the Eaorl had sent wiga to surround them; although at a distance because of the range of Conn’s bowmen. It would have been galling and frustrating for the Eaorl – he had no way of attacking because his bowmen were outgunned – his only recourse was a suicide attack of many against few hoping they would run out of arrows, but he seemed uninclined to do that. He didn’t seem to have any artillery pieces that he could bring to bear either.

  The pikes had done their job; they had go Conn into town free of attack by cavalry. It was now urban warfare – Conn’s speciality – and their first major asset was an Inn in the middle of town; they had it surrounded and secured it before anyone knew what had happened.

  After redirecting a few would be escapees back into t
he tavern, Conn and Derryth followed them into the Inn.

  As the two fronted up to the bar, the dozen patrons, the barkeep and his not-nearly-as-attractive-as-they-should-be waitresses looked at them with a mixture of fear and astonishment.

  They both looked up the prices on the wall.

  ‘That is ridiculous – I’m going to have to charge more for wholesale. Barkeep, two mugs of the best you have – and if it isn’t the best you have, you are going to be really sorry.’

  The barkeep hurried away and returned with two tankards of a foaming brew. Conn handed over, to the barkeep’s enduring surprise, a silver Ryal and collected his change. Derryth was first to try the brew. Conn followed suit.

  Derryth wiped the foam from his face. ‘I’ve tasted better.’

  ‘I agree – possibly everything I ever tasted is better, but it is better than nothing.’

  ‘Marginally. So what is the normal stuff like, do you think?’

  ‘I’m not game to try.’ Conn turned and looked around the tavern. ‘Can I buy a drink for anyone?’

  A man stood at the far end of the tavern. He walked to the bar. ‘I’ll let the Eaorl of Hama buy me a drink.’

  Conn handed over more money, and ordered three mugs of the “good” stuff.

  The man accepted the mug gracefully. He drank half the mug before stopping.

  ‘Eaorl, you were right to be cautious; the regular stuff is much worse.’

  Conn studied him. He wasn’t currently a wiga, but had obviously been one in the past. ‘You served in Trokia?’

  ‘I did – and I was very surprised that I got out alive. I was your guest in Ushu for some time. I was very impressed and looked forward to trying much of what I had learnt – sadly I never had the opportunity.’ He held out his hand. ‘My name is Egrys – former Thane of Ashkel. I served with Amargein, and like him I was found to have failed in my duty to my Healdend. My demesne was confiscated, and my family sold as theow to recover the cost of my wergild. There are sometimes things that are worse than dying.’

  ‘Egrys, I am sorry to hear that.’ Conn was genuinely shocked. ‘Fallon actually sold your family as Theow?’

  Egrys nodded. ‘A merchant in town bought them – they work in his house.’

  ‘Well, that cannot stand. Here,’ Conn reached in, found and handed over ten gold Ryals. ‘Will this be enough to buy back your family?’

  Egrys, surprised at the gesture, looked at the coins, and nodded. ‘Yes – but what do I have to do for it?’

  ‘Not much – and nothing that I couldn’t ask any man here. I’d like you to tell the Eaorl of Motya that the Eaorl of Ilissus invites him to surrender before he gets hurt – that is his only chance of keeping his demesne. Tell him that I have two thousand Silekians over the river who will cross eventually and he know he can’t defeat the Silekians – just ask anyone who was in Trokia. I’m sure you can impress that point on him. I am also the Feorhhyrde and I have three hundred Twacuman in my fyrd as well. Tell him that I’ll be here waiting. Are you happy to do that?’

  ‘I noticed the Twacuman.’ He bowed respectfully to Derryth, ‘It is a long time since our town have been graced by their presence. I am happy to pass on the information.’ He turned to leave, and he turned back and shook Conn’s hand again. ‘Thank you.’

  Conn looked at Derryth despairingly. ‘How come places are graced by your presence? Never mine?’

  ‘Just wait a bit – I’m sure there will be a female here who would like you to grace her bed…’

  The followed the Thane outside and studied the night sky. The wiga were positioned all around the streets; they were too narrow for a full on cavalry charge and his archers had gained good positions to cover any attempt at men at arms storming their position – though he expected them to try.

  ‘We are going to need a high point; it is too far to see from here. Where is a tower?’

  Derryth pointed one out and after a few instructions the fryd moved in that direction; not being prepared for the onslaught at night, the Motya wiga fled; much to the consternation of their officers, all of whom ultimately chose to flee themselves. The famous superior night vision of the Twacuman wiga made everyone very nervous.

  The tower was abandoned by the time it was surrounded by Conn’s wiga, and he climbed to the tope and using his bow, fired an arrow high into the sky. At its peak, it exploded in the night sky, to the probable amazement of all those below. It was like a small sun burst, and Conn waited for the response. It was also a white flare and Conn descended.

  ‘All good. It would seem that there are insufficient forces to prevent their crossing; he must have pulled a lot back here. We just need some rain at dawn.’

  Derryth looked at the night sky. ‘No chance of that –it’s a beautiful night.’

  Derryth cursed him as they sat shivering; they were still dry but the wind had a bite to it. An hour before dawn, the clouds had set in and the rain started; a slow continuous drizzle.

  Conn remonstrated with Derryth. ‘What are you looking at me like that for? It not as if I can just request rain, is it? You told me that even the Gyden can’t control weather.’

  ‘It is just very suspicious; that all I’m saying, just very suspicious. Are we ready? We need to finish this – I’ve run out of coffee.’

  During the night, Conn and his wiga had left their base around the tower and moved silently through the town to be outside the palisade walls. The other problem for the town was that it was quite densely developed and buildings were tucked into every available space. Fighting on foot was possible, but on horseback, impossible. The building they controlled now were directly under the largest watchtower in the town.

  Conn had purchased most of the buildings in the vicinity; offering gold Ryals to the inhabitants to run away. He had few refusals. He then stacked the base of the building with the small kegs of black powder that he brought specially, carried all the way from Piada.

  He then ran a long fuse of the door of the building, and waited.

  By midday, things started to get interesting; pinned down as they were by several hundred wiga; they observed the Rakian wiga starting to become agitated; with cavalry being replaced by infantry wiga. Conn’s fyrd must now be outside the town, and it wasn’t long before they saw the red flare, in the now blue sky. Immediately, Conn lit the fuse and watched the spark slide its way over the ground and into the shed. There was then a pause before the largest noise that anyone in Motya had ever heard; the corner tower literally exploded into matchsticks; and after the dust and smoke cleared, the hole in the wall was considerable bigger than planned.

  Derryth chided Conn. ‘I don’t think you bought enough houses.’

  With a signal to his bagpiper, they commenced their attack to music. Men charged through the clearing smoke, sword or bow in hand, to find chaos inside; there were bodies of dead or wounded wiga throughout the bailey; and those that were left didn’t put up much resistance; none after the first battle was concluded – that being the charge of cavalry from the main hall, led by the Earl himself. With his death, resistance crumbled, he and his riders falling to the yari wielded by Conn’s infantry. As men surrendered around him, Conn singled to one of his men and another arrow and flare soon lit up the sky; ordering his forces to withdraw. No unnecessary deaths required.

  As the fryd spread out to secure the keep and collect all wiga, Conn headed up the stairs and inside the great hall.

  Egrys il Ashkel was nonchalantly sitting at one of the table. He stood as Conn arrived.

  ‘I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get here.’ He shrugged, ‘I tried to suggest to him that he was unable to win, but he wasn’t interested. He hadn’t been to Trokia. Anything you want me to do?’

  ‘Yes, go and tell the cavalry to return to base – the day is lost.’

  ‘Very well. I can do that. No charge.’

  ‘Oh – and take one of my men with you to pass the message on – they will be waiting for instructions.’

/>   After they had secured horses the two men rode out while Conn stayed in the hall. Servants and officials nervously hovered until Conn assured them that they were safe from harm. He ordered ale and bread and waited as cleaning up of the mess outside commenced. He also had all the servants clean up inside as well. He had a meeting to convene and it gave then something to do.

  Very soon Egrys returned with the commanders of the Eaorl’s wiga, and not long after they were joined by a squad from Conn’s medical Corp and his commanders, Aelfstan and Osdred. He had also brought with him Conn’s old guest – Ipan il Lipara, Folctoga and Thane in Lipara. After greeting Ipan warmly, he led them inside and sat them down.

  He brought them up to date with the deaths of the Eaorl, and he assumed that any desire to prolong the war was gone. The Folctoga agreed – they also looked confused – rudderless.

  ‘Now, I understand that Art had no sons – like me he was blessed with lots of daughters?’

  The Folctoga agreed.

  ‘Well, so that thing can progress in an orderly manner, I am appointing Kane il Lipara as the next Eaorl of Motya.’

  Kane was six years old – and not many had even heard of him, so everyone looked confused – including Ipan – who was Kane’s father.

  Conn explained who he was – Kane’s mother is the daughter of the Eaorl Amargein. Ipan felt obliged to point out the obvious. ‘Eaorl, Kane is but a child…’

  ‘I know, so I am also appointing you, Ipan il Lipara, as Regent for his son until he reaches the age of twenty.’

  Everyone still looked confused.

  Conn explained. ‘You might wonder why I can do this. Well, in a short while the Healdend of Rakia will be no more – the Healdend will be gone and those demesne that were once part of Silekia, will return to Silekia. I’m sure that you will understand – given recent circumstances – that I have a certain amount of influence in the Silekian Witan?’ They nodded. ‘And it will be my recommendation that Kane be the next Eaorl, and that Ipan be Regent. Do we all agree that is a probable outcome?’