Gemini Thunder

by Chris Page

  ‘It’s a good place to put them,’ said Desmond. ‘Far away from all the conflict. Avalon is too close.’

  ‘Another problem. If this traitor is close to the seat of power, he may know of the plans being made for the big battle in the spring. Numbers, training, formations, weaponry, all that military stuff. Guthrum would give his horned helmet and all his amulets to know that. The traitor could also get close to King Alfred. He, assuming it’s a male, could be an assassin. That would put an end to the battle before it started. The soldiers have rallied here to Alfred; he is their talisman and figurehead. It’s as I said to Jack Cat, there are two things this army relies upon—the money and the king. Without either the army and its cause would collapse.’

  ‘We must end this treachery quickly. Any ideas how we can smoke him out?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the astounder obliquely, getting up from the rock.

  On Twilight’s instructions, King Alfred called all his senior people together in the great hall of Tintagel Castle. This included a number of monks including Bede, Jack Cat, Arrow, and Bullwhip from the Renegades, Baron de Lyones, Edward de Gaini, Gode, William Loy, Sam Southee and several troop captains, Hywel and Classen, Ike Penbarrow, Desmond and Twilight.

  ‘We are convinced,’ the king said, addressing them, ‘there is a traitor among us due to the events at the last raid on Combe Castle. We lost fifty good men because the enemy laid a trap. That trap would not have been possible without them knowing our plans. The traitor who revealed our plans would have to come from someone high up. No one else could have known what we were going to do. That is why you are all here . . . one of you is the traitor.’

  He paused. Everyone shuffled their feet and began to surreptitiously eye the person next to them.

  ‘Some of you may know that the Wessex veneficus,’ he pointed to Twilight, ‘can read minds. He assures me that no mortal can hide or disguise their thoughts and actions from him when he does this. We have therefore decided to let him read all your minds in order to discover the traitor.’

  There was some muttering and gesticulating.

  ‘If any of you object to this, we will take it as a sign of your guilt, and you will be hanged immediately.’

  There was a complete and very sudden silence.

  The king spoke again, pointing to de Gaini.

  ‘Edward has volunteered to be the first one.’

  Twilight stepped forward. ‘It will only take a few moments, and you will not feel anything. Neither will there be any lasting damage . . . unless, of course, you are the traitor.’ He gripped de Gaini by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. ‘Thank you, Edward, you’re clear.’ He went through the same process with the baron, Gode,

  Desmond, Hywel and Classen, then Bede and the monks. They were all clear. Jack, Bullwhip, and Arrow came forward, then William Loy.

  The veteran fighter looked nervous; a tic had started under a large, curved scar by his right eye. And no wonder. His mind had Freyja’s presence all over it. Twilight stepped back. ‘We haven’t met before, William, have we?’ he said softly. ‘No,’ said Loy.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ Loy’s hand streaked for his sword. Twilight froze him on the spot. He turned to the king.

  ‘Here is your traitor. He was in the employ of Freyja. He can hear what we say but cannot move.’ Alfred walked up to the immobile veteran fighter and looked carefully at his scarred, immovable face.

  ‘Edward?’ he said, turning to his very surprised-looking battle leader. ‘This man was your adjutant?’

  Edward de Gaini dropped to one knee and said nothing. He had quickly promoted Loy to a position that was a mere heartbeat away from the king. It could have cost the king his life; as it was, it could now cost his own life if Alfred saw fit to punish him. Realizing the implications of what was taking place with her husband, Gode suddenly burst into tears.

  ‘My liege,’ said de Gaini, looking up. The anguish on his face was palpable. ‘I had no idea. This man slipped through the net in the rush to recruit and train an army. His battle experiences were just what we needed.’

  Alfred looked down at de Gaini for a long moment as if deciding what to do, and then he knelt down beside his distressed battle leader and put his arms on his shoulders.

  ‘Edward, I have never doubted you or your loyalty,’ he said softly. ‘We must learn from this episode.’ He raised de Gaini to his feet. ‘Go to your lovely wife. She is distressed.’

  He turned to Twilight.

  ‘We will hang this man immediately.’

  ‘No!’

  Everyone turned to the cry. It was Jack Cat. Striding purposefully to the front, he jabbed a blunt forefinger at Twilight.

  ‘You promised him to me,’ he spat venomously.

  ‘I did and with the king’s permission you shall have him.’

  Jack turned to Alfred. ‘This traitor cost me fifty good men and a fine old comrade,’ he said. ‘With your permission, my liege, I would like to avenge their deaths in a fight to the death with this man.’

  The king raised an eyebrow toward Twilight and then the Baron de Lyones and receiving nods of affirmation looked at Jack.

  ‘You realize that if you lose I will be forced to let him go.’

  ‘You won’t be letting him go,’ said Jack.

  ‘So be it,’ said Alfred. ‘Give them room.’

  Everyone backed away, clearing a large space in the centre of the hall. On a signal from the king Twilight released Loy. This time when he went for his sword he was allowed to draw it.

  Both men went instantly into a fighting crouch position, and each had a broadsword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. Although Jack wanted to kill this man more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life before, including avenging the death of his sister, he was too professional to let that desire inform his fighting. This Loy was a battle-hardened veteran and not to be taken lightly. For his part, Loy knew that killing Jack would save his life and get him out of this mess. Circling warily, they both feinted several times with their weapons until Loy lunged with his sword at Jack’s unprotected stomach. Turning aside at the last moment, Jack stabbed downward with his dagger, a blow that Loy parried. They broke apart, the scars on Loy’s face standing out like white crescents. Then Loy attacked with slashing sword and dagger strokes, driving Jack back to a large round pillar. Sparks flew as Loy’s sword strokes met the stone, but that was all they met. Feinting one side of the pillar with his dagger, Jack quickly sprang around the other and slashed at Loy’s head, but the veteran fighter was equally as quick and parried the move. Both of them began to breathe heavily as they moved out to the open space again. As they came together in a flurry of blows, a cheer went up from Jack’s comrades as Loy’s left ear parted company with his head.

  ‘That’s for Patch,’ Jack cried, grinning mirthlessly. Undeterred by the blood streaming down his face, Loy attacked again. As they came together with their weapons locked, Loy head-butted Jack violently, sending him to the ground on his back. Dazed, Jack struggled to get to his feet as Loy’s sword arced across his body, opening up a wound across his chest and shoulder. With blood spurting from the gaping wound and with a broken nose smashed back against his face from the butt, the renegade leader was in danger of losing. As Loy pressed home his advantage with a small smile of satisfaction playing on his bloodied face, Jack ducked inside a mighty slash and came up under the overreaching veteran. Striking upward, his long, thin dagger sank up to the hilt in the man’s heart. As the life ebbed out of Loy, Jack’s battered face was right in front of the dying veteran. He twisted the knife deeper with a final grunt and watched closely as the light faded from Loy’s eyes.

  ‘And that’s for Baby Giant and all the others,’ he grunted.

  With a final sigh and a clattering of dropped weapons, William Loy fell to the floor, dead.

  Even the king joined in the cheering.


  When Twilight had opened up the mind of William Loy and discovered the presence of Freyja, the next search was to see if there was any sign of Rawnie, his children, or anything that vaguely pointed to the movement and light of Avalon, Silura, or the lepers. He’d been relieved to find no traces at all of any of it but still decided to leave them with Elswith in Wales. He had also told Alfred that Loy could have had accomplices within the now rapidly swelling ranks, and it was decided to do quick scans of all the incoming recruits who had recently arrived at Tintagel Castle. That took Twilight two days, and nothing untoward was found in any of them.

  Jack Cat, laid up from his badly lacerated chest as a result of the fight with Loy, suddenly took a heavy fever and hovered for some days on the very edge of his life. Visitors from all around could only sit and watch helplessly as he burned and tossed in the grip of the fever, which left him weaker by the day. Although Jack was a rabid nonbeliever and apostate who treated religion as an object of sneering mockery, Bede was asked by de Gaini to read him the last rites. As he was doing so, the silken cadence of the Latin rising and falling over him in preparation for his departure from this mortal world, sola salus servire Deo, our only salvation is in serving God, Jack’s eyes suddenly sprang open, and he growled at the surprised little monk to hold his tongue. Three days later the tough renegade was up and about. Bede used the incident as an expression of the power of faith to heal; Jack, being of an entirely different persuasion, naturally thought otherwise and was heard to declare that if that was the way they carried on in heaven, he was mighty pleased to be going to the other place. Twilight didn’t tell him that the afterlife of the cowering mists was far worse. The renegade leader would find out when his time came as there was only ever one place he would end up.

  The snows and winds of January gave way to the cold rains of February. Guthrum and his army, also swelling in numbers as the long ships brought more fighters and families over, still showed no sign of movement from Combe Castle. He, too, had settled for a spring offensive. Ike Penbarrow and his elder son Idris stayed on Swifty’s Island and continued their surreptitious meanderings around the Levels, receiving Twilight and Desmond every week or so to report any information they gleaned. Freyja, too, was quiet and avoided any further contact with Twilight. The unmasking of her spy, William Loy, had been another setback to her. The man had almost succeeded in getting right to the centre of the enemy court, where his intelligence would have proven invaluable, vital even, in the downfall of the whole Celtic offensive.

  And that hated Wessex veneficus Twilight.

  Who, unbeknown to her, had cracked the problem of location by mind transfer of speech. The next time they encountered each other and the old hag transmitted her spitting hatred, secure in the knowledge that her location was hidden, she would get a big shock.

  King Alfred and Edward de Gaini spent a great deal of time planning for the great battle ahead and decided that Kernow was the wrong place to fight. The advantages as a place to regroup over the winter were disadvantages when it came to fighting. There was no retreat if the fight was going against them and little room to manoeuvre tactically if required. The sea was at their backs all the way to the end of the narrow peninsular that was Kernow, and although Alfred had decided to create a fighting naval force as a vital aid to the future defense and supply of his forces, it would take years to build up and also have to wait until he had gained access to the more strategic ports of the south and east coasts. They decided that the ideal place to fight Guthrum was much further north and settled on the area of Wessex, where Alfred was born around the town of Wantage. The people and local warlords were loyal, and he knew the terrain well. The problem with that was he now had to get his army out of Kernow, past Guthrum’s forces at Combe, and, above all, avoid the all-seeing eye of Freyja.

  After much consultation and deliberation, Alfred and de Gaini decided to send small groups of one hundred soldiers every few days on a circular route that gave the Combe area a very wide berth. Their experiences with the groups that raided Combe Castle led by Jack Cat stood them in good stead here. If any group was discovered by Freyja or the Viking, the loss would not be catastrophic. Dressed as bands of mercenaries, each group took a slightly different route that essentially headed out of Tintagel south along the coast to Exeter, then on to Blandford Forum. Their orders were only to engage if they encountered Viking; all other contact was strictly barred. At Blandford Forum they headed north across the Plain of Salisbury to Marlborough, then followed the Ridgeway to Wantage. This took each group on a wide circle around Combe. Unfortunately, none of the routes could take advantage of the road system constructed by the Romans that covered Britain, due to the need for secrecy and the fact that none of them actually went in the directions required. The first four groups were headed by Samuel Southee, Jack Cat, Arrow, and Bullwhip. As each group arrived at Wantage, after a five- or six-day march, Twilight would transform the leaders back to Tintagel to guide another. It went without a hitch, and by mid March over eight thousand men were safely quartered around the Wantage area, and the Viking were no wiser. Local warlords added another two thousand men, and the recruitment continued to increase due to the proximity of bigger settlements. Edward de Gaini then marched the remaining six thousand men at Tintagel in full battle dress to Glastonbury and settled them there under his personal command. This force was to wait until Guthrum moved out of Combe Castle and follow them toward Wantage to cut off their retreat from behind. Various monks, priests, and unmilitary hangers-on who had accumulated in the environs of Tintagel were left to fend for themselves.

  Except Bede.

  Everyone had been much taken with the young monk, especially the king, who was talking about appointing him his household chaplain and Christian advisor, a position that had been vacant since the demise of Septimus Godleman at Winchester.

  By the beginning of April, Alfred’s army was all in position, and he had set up his command centre in his old home palace at Wantage. Having the ability to communicate quickly between his two forces through Twilight and the pica, he could move them around and react rapidly to counter any unexpected Viking moves.

  Twilight was also itching to validate his new Freyja location system, but he knew that would come when the fighting began. He also added another interesting addition to the Wantage scene that the king was very pleased with.

  The Blowing Stone.

  As Excalibur was to King Arthur, the Blowing Stone would be to Alfred. As the long magus had described it to the thirteen-year old Twilight, Excalibur and the whole Lady of the Lake legend was created by him as a special talisman. It gave Arthur that little extra, put him on a high, god-like pedestal inhabited by an ethereal being who is more than man or king because he was the only one who could remove the mighty sword.

  Myth and legend. People who are expected to die for a king will follow him into the very furnaces of Hades itself and consider it a great privilege if he is sprinkled with this sort of stardust.

  Made by Twilight out of a half-man-sized sarsen rock and placed high on the Ridgeway overlooking Wantage, the Blowing Stone acted as a warning system to all the soldiers within a wide radius around Wantage that danger was approaching and they should immediately report to their posts. There were three quite large holes in the top of the stone that, when one was blown, sent a deep, horn-like sound across the area.

  Twilight had made it so only one man could do it.

  That man was King Alfred.

  Chapter 12

  Acting upon the king’s instructions, Twilight delivered a simple, direct mind message to Freyja. He did not want or require a reply.

  King Alfred and his army are ready to engage Guthrum and his cowardly invaders at Uffington, near Wantage in the north of Wessex as soon as he can get his lazy, useless Viking warriors on their feet. If Combe Castle has become too comfortable and the men too fat to move, the king is more than happy to defeat him there.

&n
bsp; It had the desired effect. After five months of relative peace, Guthrum was having a hard time keeping his men in check. Only the additions of families, the skirmishes with the Renegades, and a plentiful supply of Celtic women had assuaged the inactivity, but it was wearing off quickly. The berserkers wanted the blood of battle; nothing else would suffice. As always they were beginning to eye each other and remember old family feuds. Five months of blade sharpening and amulet rubbing had almost worn them away. The catatonic-tempered Viking jarl gave the order to move out, fast. They would soon show that little Celtic king who ruled around here.

  Again.

  Freyja gave a few moments’ thought to how the Celts had managed to get from Tintagel to Wantage without her or the Viking finding out but dismissed it as irrelevant. The battle site chosen by Alfred at Uffington was within easy reach, and the Celts would quickly capitulate under the onslaught wherever they were, whilst she dealt with that foul veneficus. She hadn’t been idle, either, for the last few months. Her wild boar herd numbered almost five hundred now and were all trained and aware of what was expected of them in the battle.

  Charge, trample, and gore Celts. Simple and very much in the Viking mold.

  Alfred and de Gaini had used the winter months well, training the Celtic soldiers for the Viking onslaught. Lessons had been learned at Winchester and Chippingham. There would be very little subtlety in lowlander tactics as they only knew one way to fight. A howling berserker charge with huge weapons held aloft to unsettle and scare the enemy. This had been effective in both previous battles with many defenders fleeing in the face of it. In training de Gaini and Samuel Southee had emphasized over and over the necessity of sitting tight when faced with this spectacle. It would take courage and the yeoman spirit, but all such fighting did. And the Celts had something the Viking didn’t.