by Sean Poage
“Eidyol will certainly find himself among the saints,” Arthur said. “He deserves better than we can afford at the moment, but when we have peace, we will mourn him properly.”
Some of the men saw to Eidyol’s burial, while others maintained a guard on Arthur. Gawain and the rest set to caring for the horses and gear. Gawain gaped at his shield, which held four arrows. His cloak was also pierced in several places, and an arrowhead had lodged under an iron strip of his right greave. He was otherwise untouched and most grateful that Keincaled was uninjured.
When night fell, and the battle ended, the new camp was established, watch fires lit, and they prepared to hold the bridge for the next few days until Paulus arrived. Arthur sent a company of spearmen and a cavalry turma to guard the small ford to the north. Such a tight, challenging crossing would be easy to defend if the Vesi eventually found it. The cavalry would rotate watches along the river in both directions as the enemy probed for other crossings. There was little else for the equestrians to do, as spearmen were needed to block the bridge.
These took the brunt of the occasional attempts by the Vesi to push through, but there was no shortage of men willing to show their prowess and courage in the front of the line. Arthur’s few archers supported them from the banks to either side. They were joined by many of the infantry, who used their shields to protect them from the Vesi archers or crafted simple slings to hurl rocks across the river.
The morning of the second day at the bridge, Gawain, Cei and Tegyr stood shivering in a bitter east wind, as Arthur stood contemplating the foe in the distance. The Vesi had attacked before dawn and nearly pushed the Britons off the bridge before the camp could respond. Bedwyr and Gwynn were nearby, speaking with a messenger on a horse. They turned and approached Arthur, who looked back over his shoulder at them, frowning and tugging his beard.
“My lord, the Vesi found the ford to the north,” Gwynn announced. “They left a few men there, watching ours.”
“I don’t think Euric will try to cross there,” Bedwyr said. “It’s challenging even for a few men.”
“I doubt Euric is even here,” Cei scowled. “We haven’t seen his standard, and this army seems much too small for what we were told to expect.”
“We must know where Euric’s main force is,” Arthur muttered, crossing his arms. “Cyndelic should’ve returned by now, but Paulus cannot be far off.”
“That road leads to a village called Dolens, roughly ten miles north,” Cei pointed east, where a hard dirt track met the road. “Ten miles further it joins the road that runs between Aurelianis and Argentomo. We could send fast riders to try to find Paulus.”
“Paulus should have passed that junction already,” Gwynn said. “Should they turn south and try to catch him? It could take days for them to return to us.”
“Our options are limited by a lack of enemy intelligence,” Arthur shook his head. “Euric may be just beyond those trees waiting for us to lose patience or besieged at Argentomo by Paulus while we’re kept here like fools.” Arthur’s fingers tapped a rhythm on his shoulder-guard. “A few of our quickest riders could be put to better use. Send a team north to find news of Paulus. If he has passed, there will be clear signs of it. If nothing changes within a few days, we go on the offensive.”
The next day, everything changed.
Cyndelic returned, collapsing at the edge of camp when challenged by the pickets. When they realised who he was, they carried him to Arthur’s tent. He was in a deplorable state, bruised, scraped and filthy. He tried to talk, but his voice was so hoarse Arthur stopped him and sent Gawain to find Morcant. The physician gave Cyndelic some watered wine and gently cleaned his wounds. After a few minutes, the soldier had recovered enough to speak.
“Euric is marching north!” he croaked.
Four nights before, Arthur had sent Cyndelic and Bricius to determine exactly where Euric was. Cyndelic had opted to go on foot to more easily avoid detection, and they sneaked through the forest to the south. They soon determined that the full Vesi army was not following Arthur and continued to Argentomo. They arrived to find Euric’s army leaving the city, marching north along the road to Aurelianis.
Trying to steal horses to return to Arthur, they were discovered and had to flee far into the marshes to evade their pursuers. Arriving at the ford north of the bridge, they found yet more Vesi blocking their return, so they went a bit further north and tried to swim across at a different spot. Bricius, weakened by hunger and dirty water, drowned and Cyndelic had barely managed to claw his way onto the far bank. He ran the several miles back to Arthur’s camp to deliver his report.
“Did you learn anything of their intentions?” Arthur pressed him.
“No, my lord,” Cyndelic coughed. “We arrived to see the last of their soldiers leaving. The column stretched north as far as we could see.”
Arthur sat for several minutes, kneading the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. The others sat quietly, anxious, unused to such bad luck dogging their king at every turn. Finally, Cei stamped his foot.
“We should never have agreed to Paulus’s demands to distract Euric from Aurelianis,” Cei barely managed to lower his voice. “We could have struck him from behind and crushed him against those walls!”
“Did that decision rest on collective shoulders?” Arthur growled, eyes turning darkly upon Cei. “I preferred that approach, but Paulus feared he would not reach the city in time to defend it. Diplomacy ruled this stratagem. Anthemius conferred me no authority over Paulus, and only with his troops do we have the strength to defeat Euric.”
“What’s done is done,” Menw broke in. “How do we proceed from here?”
“This changes little,” Bedwyr spoke up. “If Euric thinks we’ve been manoeuvred out of this fight, we may yet surprise him.”
“It’s clear there’s no advantage to holding this bridge,” Arthur nodded. “But to go north, we must deal with the Vesi here.”
“We can easily defeat them,” Gwynn said. “And then march north against Euric.”
“Is it worth the time or lives lost?” asked Cei. “It would take few men to hold the bridge against those Euric left here.”
“True. If not held here they must be destroyed, or they’ll threaten our rear,” Arthur nodded. “Pursuing their retreat would cost yet more lives and time.” He pondered a moment, tugging his beard.
“Gwynn, can you hold the bridge with your infantry and the archers?” Arthur asked. “And perhaps a turma of light cavalry? It could be more than two weeks for us to defeat Euric and return.”
“As long as we have food we can hold against them indefinitely,” Gwynn said emphatically. “The Vesi are kind enough to send us plenty of spare arrows,” he grinned.
“Send back to Biturigas for resupply,” Arthur chuckled. “And keep extra campfires burning to give the impression that we’re all still here as long as possible.” He turned to his chief scout.
“Cyndelic, my friend, you’ve done well. Thank you,” he spoke earnestly. “Stay here and recover—No, this is my decree. Assist Gwynn until I call for you.” Arthur stood and looked about the tent.
“As for us, we must quickly locate the enemy and determine where best to engage.” He took a knee and used his knife to draw a rough map of the area and the roads to the north. “We’ll set out immediately with our riders. The foot will follow as quickly as they may. It’ll do us no good to arrive late, and worse to stumble into an ambush.”
The planning continued for a short time while the leaders’ subordinates prepared the soldiers to move. Because they would be moving at different speeds, Bedwyr would lead all the foot soldiers, while Cei would command the cavalry, excepting Arthur’s contingent.
Light cavalry set out immediately to conduct the reconnaissance and ensure the army did not walk into an ambush. Not long after, the rest of the horsemen were assembled and set out at a trot to make
better time without tiring the horses. The goal was to reach Dolens and secure the area that evening for the infantry to arrive that night. They would continue north the next morning, but at a more cautious pace as they approached the road junction that crossed the path of Euric’s army.
The road north had been little travelled recently so, despite the rain, it was an easy ride. Arthur rode with Cei in the front third of the column, and in less than two hours they were passing the fallow fields outside of the village of Dolens. Advance riders were moving back and forth between the king and the teams looking for a suitable camp space. One small group appeared, galloping towards the king. Gawain and his fellows spurred ahead, spears levelled, until they saw that these were some of Arthur’s scouts. One man on a piebald pony, however, was not. It was Bonitus, looking more distressed than the day he stood before the king.
“My lord!” the leader of the team leapt from his saddle and knelt. “We’ve found Euric!”
“Where?” Arthur demanded. “How far?”
“He’s that way, moving this direction,” the rider pointed to the west. “We were exploring the second river crossing beyond the village when we came across this farmer. He told us the Vesi were coming, and after we investigated, we saw their scouts. They also saw us, I’m afraid.”
“Did you see the army?” Arthur asked. “How do you know these are his scouts?”
“I… I did not, my lord,” the soldier responded. “But I believe this farmer because the men we saw appeared much the same as those we’ve fought.”
“Bonitus,” Arthur turned his attention to the nervous farmer. “How do you know this is Euric’s army?”
“I know only that a Vesi army is near,” Bonitus replied. “My lands are to the west of the village, beyond the river. Last night a kinsman from further west sought refuge for his family with mine because a great warlike host had camped near his farm. He and I rode out that night to see where they were, and I saw many thousands of campfires in the fields around the road to Aurelianis.”
“You did not leave that night,” Arthur looked suspicious. “Or think to warn anyone?”
“My lord, we didn’t leave because we thought they would continue north! We didn’t know that you were near or pursuing them,” Bonitus bleated. “Our poor village has nothing to offer them! When their horsemen started passing, we fled with our families, and that’s how I found your men and told them what I saw.”
Arthur was silent for a moment, staring westwards towards the lowering sun. He nodded and looked at Bonitus with a tight-lipped smile.
“Thank you, Bonitus,” Arthur said. “You’ve done us a service, and when we’ve finished with the Vesi, you will be rewarded. But for now, you would do well to gather your family and all that will listen and continue west, as this will be a dangerous neighbourhood shortly.”
Bonitus was released, and Arthur dismounted with Cei and Menw. He called for the scouts to come in and had them draw a map of the area in the dirt. The river turned sharply west here, undulating like a snake, splitting several times and branching off in places into smaller streams. To the south and west of the river, it was marshy and variably forested. North and east were mostly open fields. These should have had locals picking through them to remove rocks for the next planting, but rumour of the nearby armies had sent the populace scurrying away.
“So Euric is coming for us after all,” Menw said glumly. “Though I doubt he expected to find us this close.”
“We have little time to prepare,” Arthur said, enlivened. “We need to choose where to deploy our forces to hold the Vesi until Bedwyr and Paulus arrive.”
“My men are familiar with this area,” Cei said. “Euric moves east along a poor road that roughly parallels the river. Dolens is here, beside the river where it suddenly turns north and then loops south again,” Cei pointed. “Here, a bit more than half a mile south-west of the village, is where they’ll have to make the first river crossing on the southern loop. We should hold them there. If pressed too hard, we can fall back beyond the next crossing at Dolens.”
“Where else can Euric cross?” Arthur asked.
“About a mile north of the bridge is a ford across a smaller river that flows into this one at the top of the loop,” Cei pointed to a place north-west of Dolens. “It is amid bogs and not ideal, but we can defend it. The only other option is for Euric to send troops far around the marshes to the north-west and advance down the road that links to the main road to Aurelianis. It crosses another stream here, about two miles north of Dolens.”
“Send a team of riders to watch that point,” Arthur said. “I suspect the brunt of the attack will come at the bridge, but we should split our force in half, just in case. If I need help, ride quickly,” he grinned.
“My lord, I should hold the bridge,” Cei protested. “Menw can guard the other approach, and you should stand in reserve.” Menw eyes widened. He was a capable advisor, but his command experience was nearly non-existent.
“No. We’ll have our hands full defending the crossings until Bedwyr arrives.” Arthur considered briefly, then shook his head. “I will hold the bridge. You watch the second and third crossings.”
“Yes, my lord,” Cei nodded.
Everyone remounted and was preparing to continue on when a new group of messengers arrived. The residents of Dolens had fled, but the light cavalry were sparring with their enemy counterparts near the western river crossing. Horns were sounded, and the army ordered into a gallop to cover the final mile and a half to the village. The race was on.
The road west followed the river, which divided to form a marshy island before coming together again to turn sharply north. Just beyond this point, a well-maintained wooden bridge spanned a broader, shallow stretch of the river that would typically have been a ford. Dolens consisted of a cluster of a few houses, workshops, a small church and communal oven around a derelict Roman villa, a few spear throws to the north-east.
As the main force thundered into the village, Arthur’s lead elements were charging at Vesi riders fleeing back across the bridge to the west. Beyond the bridge, Gawain could see many horsemen milling about. Arthur brought the host to a halt as the last of the enemy on this side of the river escaped or were killed.
“My lord!” a sweating officer of the light cavalry rode up to Arthur, blood streaming from a leg wound. “The enemy has the far bridge, but we stopped them from taking this one.”
“Can we push them back across the other bridge?” Arthur demanded, frustrated that time was against him, yet again.
“We might, my lord, but their spearmen are pouring over the crossing,” the officer answered, conflicted between fear of failure and the desire to please his king.
“With an open plain we could drive them back,” Cei shook his head. “But the road between the bridges is narrow, with marsh to either side that would inhibit our horses. We can defend this crossing, but without Bedwyr, we don’t have the numbers to push them back on foot.”
“Then this is where we stand!” Arthur rose up in his saddle, his voice carrying in that way he had mastered. He raised his spear and shield high and used his legs to guide his horse into a slow turn so he could address the army gathered about.
“Euric was not quick enough!” he called out, apparently altering his goal. “I’m sure he hesitated, confused about who suddenly appeared in front of his army. Let us make the most of his error! Do not let them set so much as a toe upon this side of the river! Teach them to fear our spears whether wielded from the saddle or with our feet firmly on the ground!”
Arthur leapt down, jabbed his spear towards the western sky and shouted, “Honour, glory, riches and the way home lies over the crushed bodies of our enemies! Let us hasten our return!” Cheering erupted, as Cei split off with his half of the host and continued to the north-west ford. The rest dismounted, secured their kit and began forming into companies.
The least experienced gathered the many horses and led them out of the way, near the villa. Gawain saw Peredur leading away a group of horses, and he caught the barest glimpse of Illtud, Gareth and Cadwal forming up with the other members of the turma to march to the bridge. They had only enjoyed brief meetings since they had left Biturigas, and he missed his friends.
There was little time to reflect, as Henwyneb ordered the Guard to form up while Arthur surveyed the field, gave last minute instructions and dispatched lookouts. He had fewer than seventeen hundred men to hold the crossing, with hundreds of feet of riverbank facing water shallow enough for determined foes to cross. He would not have much of a reserve, but he did have the six hundred veteran Artoriani, and Arthur intended to stand at the centre of the bridgehead, in the forefront of battle, as expected of a warlord.
And so Arthur began striding down to the river as if facing nothing more daunting than a good day of fishing. Gawain and his brothers formed up in four ranks of eight men and followed. Gawain was in the second rank, on the far left.
The formations moved forward, coming to a stop about a hundred paces from the water. To the left of the bridge, the island in the middle of the river came to a point of land covered in a cluster of trees. To the right, the river flowed north about half a mile through fields and marshes with clumps of trees to either side. Arthur directed companies of spearmen to different points along the river, leaving about a third of his force in reserve. Not much could be done to counter the Vesi archers so it would be better to be in place behind shields than try to move to the river’s edge under a barrage of arrows. When the other units were in place, Arthur motioned for the Artoriani to follow him to the bridge, where the fighting would be fiercest.