Conscience of the King

by Alfred Duggan

  After a few minutes of this, the barbarians retreated from their bank and formed up behind it. Of course, our men were greatly encouraged, and the whole column pressed forward for another attack; the Saxons opposite me began to look over their shoulders, as though wondering whether to retire in line with their comrades in the centre, and I gathered my men together, in case we might have a chance to advance unopposed. I did not think they would follow me if I charged a steady line. So we all stood together and watched the progress of the battle.

  For a very long time there seemed to be no advantage to either side, and this in itself was very unusual. In all the brushes with raiders and pirates that I had ever seen the first ten minutes had shown which side would win; but here both armies fought like oath-bound companions whose leader has fallen. The unarmoured peasants in the rear were now pressing forward, and the Count pushed his horse among them, shouting orders; it took him a long time to get himself understood, but at last the stupid rustics grasped what they were meant to do, and began to tear at the clay bank with their hands and spears. Our leader intended to open a way for the cavalry; my men began to cheer, for it seemed that the battle was already won.

  But Hengist, that wily leader, must have realized that his men were in no condition to withstand a charge of cavalry. Suddenly the Saxon war-horns sounded a signal, and the enemy pushed our men back to the half-ruined trench, and the shield-ring was formed in its original position. The battle was back where it had started, and I was surprised, when the sun came out for a moment, to see that they had been fighting for two hours.

  Everyone was being incredibly obstinate; but for Count Ambrosius on one side and Hengist on the other, we or the Saxons would have run away long ago. My own followers, who had advanced with such hearty war-cries early in the day, were now doubtful of the outcome. They stood in a clump, muttering among themselves; they were trying to make up their minds whether the time had come to change sides, and I thought I must quickly find them some more active part to play. I told them that when the fighting began again it would be a good idea to steal round the marsh, and see what sort of a guard the enemy had posted over their baggage. They received these orders with enthusiasm, and I congratulated myself on my cleverness; for if the barbarians discovered us plundering their valuables they would not welcome us into their ranks.

  Soon the Romans attacked again. I beckoned to my men, and we crept through the marsh. Unfortunately it was a waste of time; Hengist had chosen a position with a really impassable flank, for once, though I know how rare such positions are in warfare; soon the mud and the water were up to our shoulders, and it was too boggy even for the desperate resort of swimming. We struggled back to our original post; I believe no one had noticed our absence, so exciting was the battle on the neck of dry ground. There the Romans fought to win the trench a second time, but Hengist had packed his men very close, and we could not drive them from the bank. Courage in battle is always a chancey thing, and any time now our side might decide they had had enough. I looked round, to pick out the best line of retreat if things grew unpleasant, and realized that something I had expected to see was missing; at first I could not make out what it was, and then I understood. The cavalry had moved off.

  There was a way round Hengist’s other flank. Except in the mountainous west, there are no fighting grounds in Britain where both flanks are completely secure. Now we had nothing to do except keep the battle going until the cavalry appeared, and I felt more cheerful about the outcome. I did not say anything to my men, for fear they would let it out in the taunts they were continually shouting at the enemy; these had not noticed the disappearance of the horse, for Saxons get very excited on these occasions.

  The drizzle had now ceased, and though I could not see the sun I judged it to be after midday; the fighting along the trench had died down to a throwing of javelins and occasional half-hearted partial attacks. I was not playing a very heroic part; but my followers were scouts, and in any case if I led them into the thick of the fighting they might join the other side. When Hengist was beaten they would be enthusiastic in the pursuit of their fellow-countrymen, and I would be able to do something to win the Count’s approbation.

  At last we heard shouting from behind the Saxon left wing, and the small detachment opposite us looked over their shoulders and seemed to waver. As they ran back to their main body I jumped into the marsh and waved my followers into the hostile position. Our cavalry had gone a very long way round, and come back directly in rear of the Saxon left.

  I expected that to be the end of the battle, but Saxons are very slow-minded people, and their stupidity guards them from sudden panic. It is notorious that they hardly ever flee when in close contact with the enemy; if they can get safely away from a lost battle they will withdraw swiftly, but if the position is hopeless they stand back to back, and do a great deal of damage until the last man is down. I suppose it is because they are convinced that the meanest of them is better-born than any Roman; German honour is an untrustworthy thing, but it does keep them firm in their ranks.

  Our infantry were more or less fought out, and even when Hengist withdrew from the entrenchment they would not follow up with a determined attack. Most of the peasants, who were still fresh, and of course my own followers and the Irish, flung themselves at once on the baggage, and took no notice of the fight that still raged. The cavalry were not really happy, charging well-armed foot. In consequence Hengist was able to withdraw gradually to his left until he had gained the protection of the marsh. A large part of the Saxon army got away, and there was no pursuit.

  Such was the Great Victory of Count Ambrosius, and oddly enough the battle never had another name. The country round about was almost unknown to the Romans, and even the rivers were nameless. As for the Saxons, all they remember of their own history is composed by their poets, and no one makes up songs about an unheroic defeat. For a few years we talked of the Great Victory; then later fighting put it out of our minds, and now I think it is wholly forgotten.

  Our losses had been nearly as heavy as the enemy’s, and our army was in no state for an invasion of Kent; but we had taught the barbarians a rough lesson, and central Britain should be free of plunderers for a few years. At Londinium the army was disbanded. I went home with Constans and the comitatus of the Regni; we marched boldly along the old road that runs due south through the Forest, and saw no signs of barbarian plunderers on the way.

  Now for two years there was no fighting in our part of Britain, and we all lived prosperously in my father’s fortress. But I was unsettled and discontented; it seemed a useless sort of life that I was leading, as a mere replacement in case my brother died without an heir; and even that was now unlikely, for he had married the plain and sturdy daughter of a respectable landowner. There were no raiders to fight, and our Kingdom was so enclosed between the Forest and the sea that there was no point in trying to enlarge its well-marked boundaries at the expense of our Christian neighbours; in fact, such perfect peace prevailed that Constans lived at home, and Noviomagus was left ungarrisoned.

  I was therefore very pleased when, in January 473, a message came that Count Ambrosius was gathering another great army from all his allies and subjects. He had never given up the idea of expelling the barbarians from Kent, but the usual tiresome war between Demetia and Venedotia had delayed him. Now he had patched up a truce, and appointed Corinium as the mustering-place; though the messenger said that our comitatus could meet him as he advanced eastwards. Constans accordingly stayed at home, but I set out for Corinium at once, to make sure that I was appointed to my old command of Saxons. It is a measure of the peace that the Count had won for us that I made the journey alone, and saw no raiders.

  I found Cutha and about fifty other Saxon mercenaries waiting for me; we all settled down to the old routine of drill and early beds as though we had never left it off. But it was not quite the same army; for one thing, it was much smaller, since the western Kings did not trust one another, in spite of t
he truce, and kept most of their men at home; also there were fewer cavalry and their mounts were shaggy upland ponies, for every year it becomes harder to find decent weight-carrying stallions in Britain.

  Nevertheless, we were confident of victory. Last time we had driven the Saxons into a swamp and plundered their baggage; there was no fear that we would not do the same thing again. If our army was weaker than two years ago, that should be true in a greater measure of the barbarians; most of their penniless plunderers had drifted back to Germany or Gaul, and Hengist would have only the half-breeds of many tribes who tilled the soil of Kent. I remembered, from what Ursula had told me, that the best German warriors despise an agricultural life, and wander tremendous distances from their homes to live by plunder. Only the second-best would be left in Britain.

  We marched easily and leisurely down the Thames, in late May, and picked up my brother and his men before we reached Londinium. The Count was delighted to find that the city was not quite deserted, and that a few of the new inhabitants were civilized men; it was his dearest dream to restore the cities of Britain, and the Great Victory seemed to be making it come true.

  South of the Thames the old main road leads almost due east to Durovernum, Hengist’s capital, and then eventually to the coast; but on the second day’s march we came to a river flowing north, and on it the ruins of a city (rather confusingly called Durobrivae, the same name as the town halfway between Londinium and Lindum). This river was the western boundary of the territory where Hengist’s followers actually farmed the land, and we all expected to fight a battle before we were allowed to cross it; but to our surprise neither the cavalry in the open country nor my men in the thickets could find any trace of the enemy, and at low tide we waded comfortably through a broad paved ford. We cheered and told one another that all the barbarians must have fled to Germany when they heard we were coming. All the same, we camped that night on a steep hill, and Count Ambrosius took great care to see that the sentries were watchful.

  Next day we set out very cautiously; I think we were all a little afraid of our own daring, for Hengist had lived here so long that we thought of it as a land outside civilization, and no Roman army had ventured beyond the Empire since the days of the great and wicked Julian. The Count made one of his usual speeches before we began our march, and told us what a great historical occasion it was; he also reminded us that we must scout very thoroughly.

  By now I knew my own Saxons pretty well, and it struck me that they seemed restless and upset; I wondered whether they were beginning to feel worried about making war on their fellow-countrymen, but on reflection I decided that was absurd. If they were uneasy it was only because they feared we would be beaten, and I was confident that our great Count would be victorious.

  The country we advanced into was wooded and enclosed. When Germans settle down to till the soil they do not live together in villages as Christians do; each man hacks out a clearing in a different bit of forest, where he can live apart, without being bothered by public opinion. The ridges and valleys of Kent were dotted with clumps of trees, though it was not really thick forest, and everywhere we came on these little clearings, with a deserted wooden hut in the middle. It was difficult country to scout, for we never seemed to be able to see for half a mile in any direction. My particular job was to work through the belts of dense woodland, where horsemen could not ride. We saw no enemies all morning, but plenty of traces where they had been; footprints in the mud, the ashes of campfires, and flimsy bivouacs of plaited boughs. At the midday halt I reported this to the Count, but when he questioned me I agreed that I had only seen evidence of small parties; nowhere had we found the unmistakable track of a real army. He frowned and said:

  ‘It is possible there will be no battle after all. They took this land very easily; they may abandon it just as quickly, for one place is very like another to barbarians. How are your mercenaries behaving? I rely on you to give warning of any ambush; don’t trust them to report what they find, but keep a sharp look-out for yourself. Now go out and make good all the thickets within two miles of the main army.’

  Count Ambrosius was always ungracious when he received a report; he thought the comrade-to-comrade attitude that other leaders adopt to win the affection of their men was bad for discipline; but his frown was most unpleasant, and we worked harder to avoid it than we would have done to win rich gifts from a more easy-going chief. I went back to my men, and chivvied them into the woods as soon as they had finished their midday meal.

  We worked very hard that afternoon. The country was just open enough for the baggage to march at a good pace, yet dense little woods grew on every side; messengers continually sought me out to ask whether we knew for a fact that the next valley was clear of the enemy, and to remind us that we were holding up the progress of the whole column. I bustled my men at a trot from one covert to the next, and got out of breath and exasperated. It was quite impossible for me personally to check all the scouting, at the pace we were going, but I couldn’t tell that to our general; he took it for granted that we should perform the impossible if those were his orders. We made such a noise, as we crashed through the bushes, that anyone lying in wait could easily have ambushed us, and I salved my conscience with that fact; barbarians would not have the self-control to let us go by so that they could attack the main body, and if no one sprang out it meant there was nobody there.

  About an hour before sunset we heard the trumpets blowing for the halt. The Count had found a bare hill-top that would make a safe camping ground; though the valleys below, from which we would have to fetch water, were densely wooded. The evening was fine, and to the eastward I could make out a few threads of smoke, presumably marking the nearest barbarian pickets. My band was at the bottom of the hill just east of the camp, and I knew that we must climb the opposite ridge and check that the next valley was empty before we could go back to supper. We were tired, and it was a great bother, but the Count would only send us back again if we didn’t; it was no good pretending we had done it if we had not, for I had already discovered that I could not tell him lies to his face. You can see from all this that Ambrosius gave me a very sound training as a junior officer.

  We puffed up the hill, and I gave a cursory glance at the quiet woods below. All my men crowded to the top in a body, as though they were still as keen as ever on ferreting out a lurking enemy, and when I gave the order to retire they hesitated for a moment, and looked at me queerly. Then Cutha called out:

  ‘Noble Coroticus, we must part on this hill-top. Hengist has followed the army all day, and he will attack as the baggage is unloaded. All the Welsh will be killed this night, but it would not be honourable for us to stab you now, because of the oaths between us. Run quickly, before we change our minds. Hurrah for Hengist, King of Kent!’ At which they clashed their spears against their shields.

  I began to run downhill as they opened their mouths to cheer. Oddly enough, what had chiefly impressed itself on my tired brain was the one word, Welsh. It is a term of contempt that the Saxons apply to anyone of non-German blood, and it can mean either slave or foreigner. When I heard Cutha come out with it so naturally I knew that all traces of loyalty had left his mind, and that he thought of us as his enemies; it was very lucky that his unaccountable German honour had given me a few more hours of life. Someone threw a spear after me as I pounded down the hill, but it went wide; Saxons don’t usually miss at that range, so I presume it was only a hint that I had better keep moving.

  I had about half a mile to go to reach the camp, and I was already exhausted after a long day’s scouting; but I ran fast down the hill-side, and only halted to take breath among the bushes at the bottom. I then stopped to think out my position. It was obvious that the whole army was in a trap; Hengist must have followed us all day, and my Saxons knew it while they searched so zealously for an enemy in front; I would never have thought that such stupid people could keep a secret so well. Furthermore, they must be quite convinced that we had no chance
of escape, since they had openly announced their treachery before the fight began. The question was whether it would be safer to hide where I was, or to hurry back to the camp and fight my way out later with an organized party. I am telling you frankly what I thought; you may consider me a coward, but I should like to point out that I have borne my share in many great battles, and am still alive at eighty-three, because I always got away at once when I saw that I was on the losing side; only stubborn men, who try to alter Fate, provide young and noble corpses.

  By the time I got my second wind my decision was taken. Immediate safety lay in the thicket, but I was looking to the future; I would have a great deal of explaining to do if I arrived home alone when my brother and all his comitatus had perished; people would be bound to think that I had joined with my followers in betraying the Count. In the second place, it was just conceivable that the Romans might win; in which case I would be a homeless fugitive, with every man’s hand against me. The wise thing was to take my place in the ranks, and concentrate on leading some of the Regnians to safety. With my advance information that should not be too difficult.

  I was barely in time to raise the alarm. A trooper heard my shouts, and rode down the hill to find out what was the matter; I jumped up behind him; but as I reached Ambrosius and the trumpets blew the call to arms, Hengist led his men out of the woods. The timing of the attack was perfect; the sun was low, and it shone level behind the attackers, so that it was difficult to make out their numbers and formation; our men were tired and hungry; worst of all, he had caught us at the very peak of the disorganization that sets in when even the most disciplined army has just finished a troublesome march. Most of the Romans had taken off their helmets and sword-belts, and were scattering to look for firewood; newly unloaded packponies were wandering all over the camp, and lying down for a roll in everybody’s way; any infantryman with sore feet had already taken his boots off, and the cavalry had unsaddled their horses. Half an hour later sentries would have been posted, and the inlying picket would have been under arms, but what actually happened was that many soldiers formed up in their ranks half-naked and scarcely armed. The barbarians came on at a fast trot, howling like wolves.