Page 65 of The Quest for Excalibur
“Two armies,” Cei said. He’d come in a few minutes ago along with Merlin, both of them with dark circles beneath their eyes betraying their lack of sleep.
Arthur nodded, grim faced, and fixed the boy with a hard stare. “How many keels?”
The boy’s gaze shifted as though uncomfortable, and his mouth opened, then closed again. “I-I don’t know, Milord. I didn’t see ’em for myself.” He was gabbling, embarrassed about his own inadequacy, no doubt. “We had news from the farmers near the river, and the king did say as he weren’t sure they could even count. One said twenty keels, another ten. A third– there was three of ’em came– said fourteen.”
Forty men to a keel, so anywhere between four hundred, minus those guarding their ships, to eight hundred men had come ashore, most likely to the east of modern Reading. A daunting prospect when in all likelihood another four hundred were marching to meet them from the south. A massive force. Far more than we could fight alone, even with the advantage of being on horseback. They meant business.
Biting my lip, I glanced at Arthur, but he was bending over the map.
Seemingly unfazed, he traced the course of the Thames with his finger. “No point in heading to where they’ve been. We need to prepare a welcoming party where they’re headed.” He jabbed the site of last year’s battle of Trwfrwyd, a few miles east of where the Kennet joined the Tamesis. “Here is where they’ll have landed. Last year’s incursion must have been them deciding where to land this year. Testing us out. Seeing what forces we could muster to counter them.”
“Where is it you suggest we meet them, then?” Cei asked.
Arthur grinned, mirthlessly. “A place of our choice, not theirs. A place where we can beat them.”
Cei raised his bushy ginger brows. “And where’s that?” A hint of skepticism had sneaked its way into his voice.
Arthur grimaced. “That’s the big question.”
Badonof course. I stayed silent, watching.
Merlin pointed. “If they have as many men as we think, they’ll be heading west as soon as they can, because supplies will be their problem. They’ll want to take us by surprise, and strike at the heart of Britain without warning and as hard as they can.” He tapped the map. “They’re not fools. They’ll use the old Roman roads, same as we do. Easier by far than marching across country on foot.” His finger traced a line on the map. “This road here– the road between Caer Celemion and Caer Ceri. That’s the one they’ll take. It heads pretty much due west into the center of our power.”
Just as I’d told Arthur. Comforting to know Merlin was in agreement.
Arthur nodded. “My thinking entirely. Once they muster their full force, there’s no other route they could sensibly take with that many men. See here? This line of hills?” He indicated what would one day become known as the Marlborough Downs. “Right here is an old hill fort, not large and long fallen out of use, but a good place to base ourselves. My father took me there once when I was a boy.”
Cei nodded. “I remember that. I was little– you were littler still. We camped within the fortress.” He grinned at the memory.
Arthur drew a line with his finger, eastwards. “And from its grassy ramparts you have a view back along the road, a good three or four miles. The brow… here. My father showed us.”
How apt that his father had shown him the exact same view my father had shown me. Two children with their fathers, fifteen hundred years apart. Fitting. My father would have loved to have known he’d stood in Uthyr Pendragon’s very footprints.
Arthur tapped the map, further east along the Roman road. “This will be a good spot to place a lookout, with others further out, strung along the road. The Saxons will have to climb steadily uphill from the Kennet valley. We’ll have good warning of their approach.”
“This fort,” Merlin said. “Does it have a name?”
My turn to speak. “Dinas Badan,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Badon.” The name fell heavily into the room, as though from instinct others recognized its meaning.
Merlin’s eyes widened, and I fixed him with a meaningful stare.
Arthur grinned, an irrepressible light kindling in his eyes– suddenly a man who knew he was on the verge of making history. “My father told me no one had lived there since long before the legions. We rode the ancient Ridgeway track together, past many wonders from that time. On the side of a hill not far north from there a huge white horse gallops, carved out of the chalk. An auspicious sign from our ancestors.”
I’d been there too– the Uffington White Horse– origin unknown. I wasn’t sure they’d meant it as a sign that Arthur would win at Badon, though.
He gave his head a shake as though to clear it and tapped the map again just east of where I’d marked the abandoned fort with a circle. “This will be a good place to take them. The road runs on lower lying land sandwiched between high hills, and there’s still some remnants of ancient forest. The Saxons will be confident in their numbers and won’t be expecting an ambush as they can know nothing of our speedy messaging system.”
Straightening again, he encompassed us all with his gaze. “It’smethey want to defeat. They think that once the High King falls, the rest of Britain will capitulate. They seek to make an example of me.” He grinned again, and this time all the mirth vanished. “Ofus.”
He pulled me closer and threw an arm around my shoulders, laughing– a harsh, defiant sound. “But as well as having no idea of our messenger system, they also don’t have the benefit of accurate maps, as we do, and they’re riding into what for them is uncharted territory. They can have little idea what lies ahead. We’ll lay a trap that’ll send them running with their tails between their legs. The ones that survive, that is.”
“Alone?” Cei asked. “If they join up and bring two armies against us, then we’ll be outnumbered two to one.” His turn to grin. “Not that I don’t think every one of our men is worth ten of theirs, of course.”
Arthur shook his head. “No. Not alone. I’ve already sent out riders. Last night as soon as we saw the signal fire and set our own. North to Viroconium, and east to Caer Guinntguic, asking for help from Cadwy and Cerdic.” He pulled a rueful face. “If, that is, Cerdic decides to take our side, after having been spared by his uncle.”
Cei’s eyes widened. “Caer Guinntguic? Cerdic may be half Saxon, but he’s half British too. And that’s his father’s half– the half that matters.”
Arthur shot me a sideways glance. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
