by Simon Lister
‘I understood some of it. It’s the same language as Arthur’s but spoken differently, I think, at least they reacted when we spoke his name.’
‘Perhaps they’re from one of the other tribes?’
‘We don’t know much about these people do we?’
‘No. Let’s just hope they take us to Arthur quickly.’
They carried on surrounded by the horsemen and Terrill wondered if he really could spend his life around people like these. He realised it was far too late to be having second thoughts about the choices he had made but he still could not imagine a life among these people. He fervently hoped it would not come to that.
They were led towards a large tent that stood in the middle of the encampment and the warrior with the braided beard dismounted and gestured for them to wait as he swept aside the hanging animal skins that covered the entrance and disappeared inside.
A small crowd of warriors gathered to stare at the two newcomers and Seren and Terrill felt increasingly more uncomfortable as the long minutes passed. Finally they were told to go inside and they entered into the gloominess of the makeshift pavilion.
The stench hit them like a slap in the face and they both struggled to hide the nausea they instantly felt. It was a mixture of uncooked meat, animal dung and human odour and it filled the tent as thickly as the smoke that billowed from the central fire, but at least they were out of the sunlight and they were both grateful for that.
It was obvious to them who was the leader of these warriors; he was sitting on a broad stout chair that seemed to serve him as a throne and several servants were bringing plates of food to him. He looked over at the two who had just entered and he stared at them with his calculating small black eyes. He raised a thick-scarred hand dripping in animal fat and beckoned them closer. When they were standing before him he made a gesture for them to pull back their hoods and they did so.
Cries and curses rang through the tent and several warriors drew weapons as the Cithol revealed themselves. None of those present had seen a Cithol before and their white hair, translucent skin and strange eyes that showed no white at all immediately struck fear into them. They had all heard the legends of the southern Winter Wood and the ghosts that haunted those feared forests but none had ever thought to actually see or meet such apparitions.
Only Ablach did not react with surprise or terror and it was only his sudden barking laugh that stayed his warriors’ hands. The warriors looked at each other uncertainly but as Ablach’s laughter filled the room they sheathed their weapons keeping a wary eye on the two ghosts before their leader.
Finally his laughter ebbed away and he returned to eating the haunch of meat that he held in his hand as he flicked his eyes from Seren to Terrill and then back to Seren again. Minutes passed as he scrutinised them both and Terrill feared his stomach would rebel at the sight of this monstrous barbarian tearing meat from the bone with blood and juices flowing freely into his beard. Ablach sensed this and offered the half-devoured haunch to Terrill who just shook his head. Ablach’s laugh barked out again at his reaction and food flew from his mouth. Some of it landed on Seren’s cloak but she resisted the impulse to brush it off and steadfastly returned the Uathach’s stare.
‘Cithol by the gods,’ Ablach said into his food. ‘Cithol walk among us!’ he exclaimed more loudly to those inside the pavilion. He seemed amused by the reaction this caused among his warriors as their suspicions were confirmed. Terrill could make out the word ‘Cithol’ but the rest was lost to him then Ablach turned his attention back towards them and when he spoke it was slower and more like the accents they had heard from other Britons.
‘Are you the mighty Cithol army come to relieve Arthur?’
Seren was entirely confused by everything that she had seen and heard since sighting this encampment. She knew nothing about the politics and divisions of the Britons and had assumed that Arthur was the warlord of all the Britons but this monster before her seemed to be a chieftain in his own right. She decided to be cautious.
‘The Cithol army is to follow us. We are but messengers and we carry a message for Arthur of the Britons.’
‘It seems to me you carry more than just a message. Do the Cithol send their child-carriers to battle?’
‘Is Arthur among you or should we look for him on the Causeway?’
Ablach stood up and towered over the two Cithol. He gave a curt order to those gathered in the tent and immediately they filed out, many with a last glance at the two ghosts dwarfed by their chieftain. Ruraidh remained standing just inside the doorway with his arms folded and his gaze locked on the two Cithol.
Ablach frowned at his captain’s presence then chose to ignore it and gestured for the Cithol to sit down at a table littered with food and spilt drink. He saw Terrill’s brief look of distaste and he swept the debris of the half-finished meals from the table with the back of his hand. He grinned reassuringly at them both, revealing his stained and yellow teeth, and held back a chair for Seren to sit. Seren nodded her thanks and took the offered seat. Terrill sat beside her and Ablach slowly walked around the table to sit opposite them.
He stared at Terrill for a long minute then switched his gaze to Seren, all the while picking absently at his greasy beard. Seren, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, shifted in her chair but she held his stare with her head tilted upward in defiance. Ablach just continued plucking his filthy beard and staring at her. The only sound inside the tent came from a guttering torch, which caused the shadows to shift suddenly and disconcertingly.
‘Have your guards gone to fetch Arthur?’ Seren asked in an even tone while continuing to look into his eyes. She thought her voice sounded intrusive and harsh in the oppressive silence.
‘Arthur is on the Causeway. Fighting.’
Seren considered this and waited for Ablach to say more but he just continued to stare at her.
‘This is Captain Terrill and I am Fin Seren. Who may you be?’
‘Ablach.’
Clearly he considered this to be enough information and he offered no more. Terrill leant forward on the table and spoke for the first time since entering the tent. ‘Why aren’t you and your men down on the Causeway fighting with Arthur against the Adren?’
Ablach’s eyes never left Seren as he answered, ‘Why isn’t your Cithol army down on the Causeway fighting with Arthur against the Adren?’
Terrill half rose from his seat angered both by Ablach’s sneering tone and at being ignored by him but Seren put out a hand to restrain him and he sank back into his seat. Ablach had noticed the flicker in Seren’s eyes when he had asked his question and he guessed that she was asking herself the same question and that perhaps there was no Cithol army. Having got the information he needed he took his gaze away from Seren and poured himself a cup of wine.
‘I’m a chieftain from the northern lands. One of Arthur’s captains. He’s ordered me to hold the cliff tops to cover his retreat should it become necessary. We await his orders to join him in the battle below.’
Seren watched as he swilled the wine in his cup letting it slop over the sides and onto the table.
‘And who are you, Fin Seren?’ Ablach asked once again ignoring Terrill.
‘I am Lord Venning’s daughter.’
‘Lord Venning?’
‘The Lord of the Veiled City.’
‘And he sent you as his messenger?’
‘The message is important and we need to get it to Arthur as quickly as possible.’
Ablach noted the evasion and returned his attention to the wine swirling in his cup.
‘The Causeway is no place for either of you. It’s certainly no place for a woman carrying a child. Aren’t child bearing woman precious to your people?’
‘We must see him. The message is urgent.’
‘You can’t go to the Causeway while the battle is raging. No message from you could be important enough to take into the heart of battle.’ He waived a dismissive hand at them and then smiled as he added,
‘He can wait to hear he’s sired another bastard!’ Ablach was already laughing at his own joke when he saw the look of shock cross both faces opposite him. He quickly raised his wine cup to his lips to hide his own shock at their reaction.
Ablach’s mind was racing with the possibilities that this new information offered him but he kept his eyes away from them both and reached down to the floor to retrieve the roasted goat leg that he had previously swept from the table. He noticed that Seren recovered the quicker and that she was watching him closely to see if he realised that he had stumbled across an uncomfortable truth. Intentionally misreading her scrutiny he offered her the roasted goat meat. She shook her head.
‘Are you sure? You must have had a tiring journey.’ He inspected the meat that was now covered in dirt from the floor of the tent. He brushed some of it off with his greasy hands and offered it once more.
‘I’m not hungry. Thank you.’
‘Please yourself,’ Ablach replied and tore a chunk from the meat with his filthy hands. Seren could not prevent herself from staring at his fingernails which were long and black with engrained dirt.
‘We must take the message to Arthur immediately,’ Terrill said and again Ablach kept his eyes on Seren infuriating Terrill even further.
‘I’ll take the message to him.’
Seren and Terrill exchanged a quick glance.
‘If Arthur trusts me as one of his chieftains then you too can trust me.’
Seren looked at the table wondering if Arthur did indeed trust this man.
‘Tell me or not, either way I can’t allow you to go down to the Causeway. Arthur wouldn’t thank me for putting the daughter of his Cithol ally into the danger of battle.’ Ablach shrugged then gestured to the food lying around and beneath the table. ‘Are you sure you won’t have something to eat?’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she repeated.
Ablach stood up and said, ‘You can stay with us and if you do become hungry then you can join us here to eat. I’ll get one of my men to find a spare tent for you.’
‘The message is urgent!’ Seren said as she stood up.
‘Then you’d better tell me sooner rather than later.’
Seren hesitated a final time then committed herself, ‘The Adren will use an ancient tunnel that runs under the Causeway. They’ll surface behind Arthur between the Gates and the cliffs.’
Ablach considered this in silence keeping his face impassive despite the developing plans that this new information brought crowding to his mind. In the space of a few short minutes he had learned that the Cithol Lord’s daughter probably carried Arthur’s child, that Arthur was certainly doomed on the Causeway and it was unlikely that the Cithol were preparing an army. He needed time alone to think through the implications of these revelations.
‘This is grave news. I’ll send word to Arthur immediately. You should both rest now.’
He nodded to Ruraidh who called out to one of the guards and the two Cithol were led away to a spare tent. He sat back down at the table and threw away the dirt-encrusted meat he held. He spat out the remains of the mouthful he had taken and washed the grit from his mouth with a fresh cup of wine as he thought about how best to use what he had learnt. Ruraidh still stood inside the doorway and he too pondered what he had seen and heard.
*
Inch by inch and yard by yard the fog on the Causeway was gradually lifting. Morgund could clearly see the far bank now where the Adren were sheltering behind a wooden wall that acted as a moveable shield. As it advanced they rolled the next tree trunk behind it until they reached the lip of the gap and then they would tip the felled tree down the slope and retreat behind the wall to fetch the next one. The gap was steadily filling and the trunks were now halfway up to the level of the Causeway.
Morgund kept an arrow strung to his bow and whenever a target presented itself he would let fly and quickly string another. The Adren wall offered them effective but not total protection and arrows flew from the Briton side constantly as they sought exposed legs and arms.
All the warriors at the Causeway Gates were now either on the wall, firing from the arrow slits at its base or manning the two catapults. The one that lobbed the large boulders had been moved towards the far end of the Gates so that it could range on the Adren side of the gap.
Morgund flinched as he heard the crash of it firing behind him and lowered his head slightly when the resulting boulder tore through the air above his head.
‘Ducking won’t help if they get the range wrong!’ Ceinwen laughed beside him.
‘Bloody thing! At least they could hit that shield they’re using!’ he replied then stopped and stared as the last boulder crashed straight into the wooden wall the Adren were sheltering behind. It splintered and broke in two and every longbow on the Britons’ side of the gap fired in unison. The shafts cut through into the exposed Adren ranks and row after row fell as their captains tried to get them back beyond the longbows’ range and into the safety of the fog once more. It had only taken seconds but every Adren in sight had been slaughtered. Occasionally one would stir from the mounds of dead and four or five arrows would immediately speed across the gap to the new target.
‘I think they hit the shield,’ Ceinwen said and Morgund laughed.
Fresh bags of arrows were being thrown up to the wall by the warriors on the ground and buckets of water were being passed along the lines so that they could quench their thirst during the lull in the Adren attack.
Morgund was looking back into the compound. ‘Are Aelfric and the others still here somewhere?’
‘No. Arthur’s already sent everyone who isn’t a warrior back up the cliffs.’
‘I don’t suppose the boy was happy about that.’
‘I don’t suppose he argued with Arthur about it.’
‘True.’
Someone shouted a warning and everyone immediately ducked down behind the wall as a flight of Adren arrows thumped into the wood and sailed overhead. Morgund risked a quick glance over the top and swore.
‘That didn’t take them long did it?’
Ceinwen bobbed her head over the edge and saw that the Adren were slowly advancing through the fog behind a new wall.
‘They must have had another one ready.’
Another boulder from the catapult soared overhead and smashed into the Adren ranks behind the new shield as another trunk was rolled down into the gap. The trees had been cut to a more or less uniform length and every warrior at the Gates knew that before long the Adren would bridge the gap and be able to attack the East Gate and a fifty-yard section of the walls to either side.
As the level of the felled trees rose and the Adren shield began to cross the gap the hail of arrows from the Britons intensified until the constantly lifting mist between the two armies was thick with them. The Adren were no more than fifty yards away and at this range the arrows were punching blindly through the wooden wall killing those in their path, but as soon as one Adren fell another immediately discarded their own shield and stepped up to take their place helping to carry the wooden wall nearer to the fort. Behind them level pathways were laid on top of the trunks by the massed Adren who followed crouched behind their shields.
As the wall approached the Briton side of the gap it offered less and less protection to those following behind and the longbows killed hundreds of the advancing Adren. When it came into range the catapult above the East Gate finally fired its lethal storm straight into the centre of the wall and smashed it in two. One side toppled back on those carrying it and the other wavered before dipping forward. There were over two hundred warriors manning the fort each with either a short or longbow and within a span of twenty seconds a thousand arrows tore into the confused Adren ranks but even as the warriors above the gate struggled to reload the catapult, the next protective wall was already crossing the bridged gap and behind it sheltered two of the Adren’s own war machines.
Arthur stood on the parapet his sword in one hand and his shield raised a
gainst the Adren arrows that still flew from the ranks beyond the gap. More of the enemy could be seen with each passing minute as the mist began to shred and he saw the two knots of Adren surrounding the catapults as they lumbered onto the bridge. He ran along the length of the Wessex and Anglian line that was positioned to the right of the East Gate and pointed out the threat to the best of his bowmen. Arrows flew to their new target but the catapults and their operators were well protected.
They both fired at the same time sending chain-linked grappling hooks sailing over the East Gate. As soon as they hit the ground they jerked backwards as a dozen Adren on each catapult started to reel them back in. Hengest saw the threat immediately and managed to deflect one of the hooks so it slid harmlessly off his crossbow catapult but the second hook embedded itself it the framework and the whole contraption creaked as the chain snapped taut. The Adren hauled on the spoked wheel attached to their machine and the snared catapult lifted and jerked sideways. Hengest scrambled to lever the hook free of the woodwork but there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable and with a final screech of protest the catapult was torn free of its moorings and wrenched over the side of the wall to crash in a tangled wreckage before the East Gate.
Hengest was still staring at the ruin of his machine when Arthur crashed into him and sent him careening backwards into the cover of the protective wall just as a flight of Adren arrows seethed through the air where he had stood.
‘Hengest!’ Arthur shouted into his face.
‘It’s gone,’ Hengest replied blankly.
Arthur grabbed his tunic below the throat and slammed the Anglian back against the wall.
‘Get to the other one and keep it firing at the Causeway for as long as you can! If they come over the wall then destroy it utterly!’
Hengest’s gaze came back into focus and he nodded. Arthur dragged him to his feet and shoved him towards one of the ladders then looked out across the Adren bridge to see that the new wall was nearly upon them. He sprinted across to Gereint on the North side of the fort and told him to place ten bowmen in the compound behind his defensive line to help stop any Adren breach then did the same on the Anglian and Wessex line.