I raised an eyebrow at him. Was he really so presumptuous as to blatantly flirt with me in front of Lancelot? He was either astonishingly arrogant or incredibly foolish.
“Think about how great you and I could be together. No one would deny your right to Stirling if you were my bride.”
I looked at him askance. “Aren’t you engaged to Eithne?”
“Yes, but that can easily be changed. She is beautiful and valuable, but you…you are so much more. If we were wed, you and I could control the western half of the tribes. Why, Morcant would be a mere figurehead. Then if you really did want to depose Evina, we could make a run at her. Imagine being Votadess.” He smirked, suppressing a chuckle. “On the other hand, you could run away with Lancelot and… do what? Fade into obscurity? We both know you are meant for greater things.”
I halted my horse, forcing the rest of our party to a stop as well. In that moment, Rohan reminded me so much of the power-crazed, overly confident version of Mordred I’d left behind that my stomach knotted and I swallowed down bile. I gave him my haughtiest look. “Not. On. Your. Life. Giving you the power of Votad would be signing the death warrant of this land. I would rather die nameless under Evina’s rule than be remembered as your wife.”
Rohan flinched, his jaw and fists tightening as though he wanted to hit me. Part of me wished he would so that Lancelot and I could wallop him. Perhaps with his pride wounded, he would turn tail and run for home.
“If the only reason you came on this journey was to try to turn my head, you better go back now. I am here to fight for my friends and allies, not to plot another revolution.” I spurred my horse on and took up the lead, motioning for Lancelot to join me.
Instead, it was Sobian who rode by my side. “While I admire you for putting him in his place, I don’t know that insulting him so badly was wise.” She glanced over her shoulder at Rohan. “We still need him in this battle.”
“He is driven by power, so it is in his best interest to aid Owain and Accolon. Have no fear. I know him, and I know how dangerous it would be to make him think, even for a moment, that I might really consider treason with him. This way if he chooses to go behind my back and act in my name, I have witnesses who can testify I publicly stated in no uncertain terms that I would not ally with him.”
“That is wise. But I still think you should set things to rights with him before we engage the Saxons. I’ve lived with Rohan for the last year and have seen how volatile he can be, especially when he feels betrayed. You never know what he may do.”
I would much rather our basecamp have been situated in the hillfort of Din Guarie, where we would have had spectacular views of the Isle of Winds, than in a cramped, camouflaged tent on the shore, but the fort was Ida’s realm. He was also the reason we had to remain hidden; on this campaign, surprise was of the utmost importance.
I would also much rather not have had Morgan with us. I had not seen her since my mystical journey to Camlann, the site of Arthur and Mordred’s deaths. When we met up in Traprain Law with her, Owain, and Accolon, she had been shy and tentative, if not a little embarrassed at me having seen her at her most vulnerable. Though my reflex was still to treat her poorly, I fought it and summoned kindness instead. Camlann had changed us both; we may never be friends, but in our shared pain, we had learned to put aside our youthful pettiness and work together for the greater good.
Inside the tent, Lancelot, Sobian, Rohan, and I collaborated with Owain, Accolon, and Morgan, and their generals to determine our best method of attack. The isle was guarded by a small hillfort at its center, but it was not well maintained. Owain had sent spies disguised as Saxon recruits days before to scout out what we would be facing. Two still remained, charged with opening the gates from the inside when we gave the signal.
Tidal waters controlled access to the island, so we only had a few opportunities each day to transport our troops to the island, otherwise we would be either trapped on the mainland with no way to get to the isle other than by boat, or be swept away by the waters. Despite Sobian and her girls standing by on their ships, attack by boat wasn’t really an option since the sight of the boats slowly crossing the channel would likely cause the Saxons on the isle to shoot arrows and rocks at us, not to mention alert those in Din Guarie to our activities.
No, this fight would have to be conducted entirely on foot by infantry. There was no room for horses, and the best our boats could do was defend against reinforcements from Din Guarie and any use of Saxon boats against us by those on the isle.
“We must time this perfectly,” I said. “There is a period in the middle of the night when the causeway is clear. We should be ready to move as soon as it is safe. Once across, we need to move quickly to build our siege camp inland so that we can be in place before dawn. By then, we will be trapped on the island until the tide goes down in early morning.”
“I think we can help with that,” Morgan said. “Together, you and I should be strong enough to hold back the waters in case we need extra time on the exposed causeway.”
“Good,” Owain said. “That will be valuable, should our plans go awry. Now, when we charge the fort, my men will help by opening the gates, but we will still have to fight our way in. Some of my men are prepared with ladders and grappling hooks so we won’t face a bottleneck at the gate. But no matter how hard we plan, I fear this will be a bloodbath.”
We faced the causeway with only the light of the moon to guide us, glimmering on the water and turning the sandbars into ghostly pathways. Any light we would use, no matter how small, would be seen by the Saxon guards in the towers of the fort. Taking careful steps on the slippery rocks and packed sand that was likely to give way with each step, our progress was slow. Occasionally a cloud blotted out the light of the moon, plunging us into precipitous darkness, and we had to freeze until Morgan or I could force it to move along.
Despite the cool night temperatures, sweat trickled down my back and beaded on my brow as I concentrated on each step. As we neared land, one of the Saxon guards in a watchtower cried out, and we all stopped to put our shields over our heads like the Romans did for protection. A few of our men peeled off at a run to dispatch the guard before she could alert anyone else of whatever had alarmed her. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears, it blocked out the rhythm of the surf and should have acted as a beacon to all in the fort above. Oh, how I longed for the familiarity of two armies facing off across a field at midday.
When we finally gained land, we stayed to the shadows as much as possible, working our way to the northern side of the isle, where it would be safest to make camp. The last few men in our caravan were in charge of sweeping away our footprints so no evidence would alert the enemy or lead them to our camp. The sand hampered our pace, especially through the dunes, though rabbits darted across them, mocking our slow progress, but we eventually reached a small patch of grassland protected by the dunes.
By the time we had quietly erected our tents and prepared for the battle to come, the eastern sky was lightening to a grayish-blue. Our full force needed to be in front of the main gates—which thankfully faced west and so would be in darkness a bit longer—before the first rays of sun lit the sky if we were going to take the Saxons unawares.
Morgan and I thickened the shadows as long as we could. We had just settled into formation when the sun’s power broke our hold and the guards on the walls stirred. Rohan whistled like a swallow. Within the fort, someone tweeted a response, followed by raised voices as the guard changed shift.
With the first crack of firelight visible through the gates, we charged with a deafening cry. Shields up over our heads, we ran, swords, spears, and elbows at the ready to push aside or kill all who stood in our way. An arrow lodged in my shield with a jolt that sent me to my knees. I sprang up as fast as I could. To remain in one place for more than a moment was to die.
As soon as we approached the walls, my world narrowed in
to mad whirl of leather, steel, and blood as I attacked and defended, slowly hacking through all who stood in my path. By now, we had lost the element of surprise and the garrison had emptied. We were trapped without hope of retreat until nightfall. A second wave of support was due to arrive any time on Sobian’s boat, but chances were good the Saxons would launch their ships as well, cutting off our reinforcements.
Day turned to night in a haze of blood, until finally we retreated to our camp in the gloaming. There we met the second unit, who were happily staking the heads of a few dozen Saxons onto pikes around the perimeter of our base.
“They tried to bring us down,” a flaxen-haired soldier reported, “but as you can see, we held firm.”
I sighed wearily. “We cannot thank you enough. You have paid a good service to your tribe and to your Votad this day.”
After eating a hasty dinner, Lancelot and I retired to our tent. We took turns cleaning one another’s wounds, which thankfully were all minor, as we had so many times before. Then we prepared for the following day’s battle.
I looked up from cleaning my sword. “Do you ever wish you had married a docile, meek woman who would stay at home and pray while you went off to war instead of pledging yourself to a troublesome warrior like me?”
Lancelot looked up from mending a tear in his leather chest plate. “You mean like Elaine? I was married to her. It was torture.” He kissed me on the lips. “I would take your troublesome self over her any day. I am a warrior, and no woman could make me happier. Do you ever wish you had married a lord with no taste for war?”
I let out a small “ha” of incredulity. “Does such a man exist?”
“Fair point.” Lancelot put down his armor and pulled me onto the bed, taking my sword from me and setting it aside. “Enough for tonight. Let us rest.”
Part of me wanted to kiss him, to wrap my arms around him and show him how much I loved him, but as soon as I lay down, fatigue overwhelmed me. Tonight, falling asleep in his arms would have to be intimacy enough.
Roaring waves, shouts, and snapping wood heralded the dawn as Sobian’s crew clashed with a Saxon vessel trying to stop her from ferrying additional troops to shore. At Rohan’s command, scouts ran back and forth across the causeway when it was clear, bringing news of the unexpected naval battles.
Because of this development, Morgan and I stayed behind to offer our aid to those at sea while the rest of our army attempted to gain the fort. We sat concealed in a fold in the cliff face, controlling wind and water as needed, trying desperately to help Sobian while not hampering the efforts of our men on land. It was a delicate balance, one so difficult to achieve I had never dared to try it before. But with Morgan by my side, I felt our combined powers might be worth the risk.
Neither side seemed eager to destroy their own boat by ramming it into the other, but still they harried one another, attempting to board the enemy ship and destroy her crew. When that did not work, they resorted to hurling flaming projectiles at one another until one boat finally sank in a haze of smoke and ash.
But as soon as the cheers from the victor’s boat died down, another launched, until our meager fleet was surrounded and hope waned. I prayed that no matter what happened, Sobian and her girls would survive to fight again.
“Why don’t we just call a storm and make the waves so choppy, they are forced to cease fighting to keep their boats from capsizing?” Morgan asked, her voice indicating she had no concept of the repercussions of such an action.
“Because if we do, we will turn the sand beneath our soldiers’ feet to a clinging, slippery mush and endanger them all. You were there at Mount Badon. Do you recall how both sides waited out the storm I called then? There was a reason.”
She glared at me then turned her back on me, sulking.
By nightfall, Owain’s army had made headway on land, but Sobian’s fleet was destroyed. The last scout reported that she and most of her crew—they had lost two, one to fire and the other when she was swept overboard—lived, though they were in hiding somewhere up the coast until they could procure additional vessels from nearby berths or repair what remained of their own.
“Rohan predicts we will take the fort tomorrow,” Lancelot said as he returned from the cook fire with two plates of dinner. He held one out to me.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I took it, sniffing at it warily. Dinner was some type of fish, likely caught today while we fought, and the ubiquitous grain-based mush, a staple at every meal while on campaign. “Good. I don’t know that I can take much more of this.” I rubbed my eyes. “I hate to admit it, but I am feeling my age. The constant physical and emotional toll of battle was easier borne before my bones ached and my vision dimmed.”
Lancelot smirked around a mouthful of fish. “Tell me about it. Earlier today I was fighting a spearman, and when I moved to strike, pain flared in my back so strongly I feared it, not the Saxon’s weapon, would bring me down.”
I nodded. “This is it. After this battle is won, I will hang up my sword.”
“And I mine. I would gladly trade it for my remaining years with you.” He wrapped me in a tight embrace.
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Whether we win or lose, we will not return to Din Eidyn. Evina has soured my heart for the homeland I once so desperately longed for. If we die, then it is done. If we are victorious, we send the army back without us. We can always use the truth—that some will have to stay behind to secure those taken captive—as our reason for not accompanying them. If we lose and still have our skin, we run—far way, to Brittany, where she cannot touch us without starting a war.”
“Her assassins know my homeland. They could always find us.”
I smiled. “Ah, but we have the best in our employ. We get a message to Sobian, written in Ogham so others cannot read it. She will take care of the lot of them.”
“Brittany it is then. The life we wanted before Arthur threw our plans to the wind.” He kissed my hair. “Now we have something worth fighting for.”
“We certainly have nothing left to lose. That makes us more dangerous than the Votad could ever dream. Plus, it gives me an idea how to incite the troops even more.” I turned over so that I was facing him and let my breasts brush against his naked chest. “This is our last night here, and certainly our last alone until all is said and done.”
He didn’t need me to say any more. His lips met mine with all the fury he hadn’t spent in battle, and I responded in kind, kissing him hard, deep, and rough. My hands sought the most sensitive parts of his flesh, eager to stoke his arousal. His teeth grazed my neck while his fingertips dug into the soft flesh between my thighs. Soon we were joined in a feverish embrace. This was not the pretty love making of Beltane, the languorous celebration of life, but the wild rutting of animals who sensed the approach of winter’s deadly chill.
Just after midday, the Saxon resistance faltered. Their attacks at the wall became halfhearted, and when we breeched the fort, the remaining warriors showed themselves to be either too aggressive and desperate in their tactics or lackluster at best, as if they wished as much as we did for this whole affair to be over.
Our army easily cut through them, allowing us access into the keep, where we found Theodric and Osmere, Ida’s two oldest sons and those who were leading the campaign, surrounded by a cadre of guards.
But where was Elga? In her unending quest to rule Britain, she had married Osmere not long after Mordred died. She would not allow her husband to go into battle without her, so she had to be there. I turned and surveyed the room, trying to ascertain possible points of ambush or trickery. I would put nothing past her.
Owain faced the brothers, sword drawn and ready but not posing an immediate threat. “My lords, you can come with us peacefully, or we can fight to the death here. The choice is yours.”
Osmere sneered at Owain. “
Your High King once did us the honor of allowing single combat to decide the outcome of a war. Will you not offer the same mark of respect?”
Owain replied, “I was there at Mount Badon and I remember quite clearly. Your people immediately betrayed the outcome of that combat because it was not in your favor. How can we be assured you will not do the same now?”
Theodric gave a mirthless laugh and threw his arms wide, as if to encompass the whole room. “Look around. We are the only opponents you have left. Surely you are not threatened by less than a dozen men?”
Owain stood his ground. “I am when those men have thousands of reinforcements waiting across the channel. All you would need to do is give a signal and your ships would set sail, treeing us on this isle like a pack of hunting hounds with their quarry. Plus”—he made a show of looking around—“not all of your troops are in this room. Your wife is missing, is she not? Let me guess, she lies in wait to finish us off while we crow in victory?”
“Enough chatter. Let’s be done with this,” Rohan broke in.
Osmere stood, ignoring Rohan. “Leave my wife out of this. This battle is down to you and me. The victor takes the fort and the whole of the island. I will even allow you to choose the location of our duel.”
“I know the perfect place,” Rohan declared.
Owain led the men out of the fort, following Rohan around to the back side of the island to a flat jut of land in the shadow of a thick woodland of alder, hazel, birch, and willow. Beyond the sandy beach, the ground was packed and even enough to ensure a fair fight. It was the perfect location. The duel could take place in full view of our camp and the Saxons we had taken prisoner, but out of sight of those on the mainland who may try to provide assistance.
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