Page 71 of The Quest for Excalibur
One of the lookouts already posted there emerged from the trees to watch our approach, and a moment later his fellow joined him, adjusting his clothing in haste as if after a toilet visit within the trees.
Our horses slowed, falling from canter into a trot and then a walk in quick succession, blowing slightly in the cold morning air, huffing pillars of moisture to be snatched away to mingle with the thin mist.
The two warriors saluted. “Nothing to report, Milord.”
Arthur halted Taran. From here, the low silhouette of Dinas Badan was invisible, camouflaged by the endless sweep of the downs. No smoke to give away our position. Nothing.
Beyond the wide stand of woodland, the road rolled on, straight and true, laid out centuries before by meticulous Roman surveyors who couldn’t or wouldn’t use curves. It dipped into a deep hollow before rising again to a further summit a little over a mile away, where I guessed the modern village of Baydon would one day lie.
“There,” Arthur said, indicating the far hill. “They’ll come over that brow, following the road. We’ll have good warning of their approach– I’ve men posted all along this road into Spinae and beyond.” He glanced at Cei. “We’ll have fifty men lined up here, light-horsemen armed with bows, their mailshirts under their tunics, to let the enemy think they’re barely opposed and only by local chieftains.”
Everyone watched and listened in silence.
“Then, behind, and out of sight, we’ll have the rest of the army. I want the light-horsemen to ride forward and attack the enemy first, with arrows, but from a distance. There’ll be a lot of them, and anything we can do to diminish their numbers at the start will be useful. Llacheu, you’ll be in command of the mounted archers, but don’t let them get close enough to be reached by Saxon throwing spears.”
A grin of pure excitement slid over Llacheu’s face at the responsibility. His horse, picking up on his mood, danced under him, hooves churning the ground.
Arthur moved on. “We’ll tease them a little and lure them into making a charge, keeping our main force hidden. Let them think it’s just a few mounted archers standing against them. They’ve no way of knowing we’ve had such early word of their arrival.” He nodded to Llacheu. “After the attack, you’re to retreat back to the brow and let them chase after you. They’ll be seasoned warriors, all of them, but I’m banking on the thought of so small an enemy force making them break rank.”
He glanced at me then back to his son. “We’ll do what we always do– let them run up the hill toward us. You’ll be the lure. After they’ve run up this hill, in battle dress, they’ll be tiring just a little. That’s when we’ll show ourselves, tight formation, lances at the ready. If we hit them hard enough each of us can take out several men on the first charge.”
“What if the farmers from Caer Celemion were right?” Merlin asked. “What if there are twenty keels on the Tamesis banks, and eight hundred warriors joining up with those who marched up past Caer Guinntguic. That’s up to twelve hundred men. More than twice our force.”
Arthur nodded. “I know.” His brow furrowed, probably thinking of our own four hundred. “But ours are mounted and British, and this is not the day we die.”
No one said anything, but I couldn’t have been the only one wondering if Cadwy and Cerdic would turn up and help even the odds.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Despite my worries,and, surprisingly, even before Cerdic, who had less distance to travel, Cadwy and his men arrived from Viroconium. Two tense days had passed since our own arrival, allowing our horses, who were far more relaxed than I was, to graze their way around the entire seven acres within the ringworks and up the bank as well.
The temperature at night had plummeted, and as usual, lumps abounded wherever I laid my bedroll. On top of that, I was heartily fed up with eating cold food. What I really craved was a nice cup of hot and strong black coffee with some toast and marmalade.Fat chance.
One of the lookouts set at intervals along the top of the bank spotted the approach of Cadwy and his army from a long way off and shouted a warning. “Dust cloud spotted! Riders from the west!”
Most of the men downed tools and crowded onto the top of the bank to look. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they had to shade their eyes against the low evening sun. I scrambled up between Arthur and Cei and copied the men, squinting to make out the distant column of riders almost invisible in the dust they were kicking up.
Amid the dust, Cadwy’s army, like a long, glittering snake, moved inexorably closer. His dragon banners rippled in the breeze, and the sinking sun reflected off the metal plates on the men’s helmets. It appeared Cadwy had turned out his entire army to come do Arthur’s bidding.
In the six years since Arthur had made his uneasy peace with his brother, they’d only seen one another at the Council of Kings in Viroconium’s huge wooden hall, and I could hardly call their relationship friendly. More that they tolerated one another now, each seeing the other as a lesser evil than the threat of foreign invasion.
At least I hoped so.
This would be the first time they’d come properly face to face other than across the wide round table. A flutter of unease in my stomach disturbed me. Could they be trusted to agree with one another? Not to fight? They were men, after all, and Dark Age kings, with all that entailed, and brothers with a lifelong history of enmity between them. Not that, if presented with Morgana, I’d be happy to bury the hatchet– unless it happened to be between her eyes.
Merlin scrambled up to stand beside us. “Well, I never thought I’d live to see the day when Cadwy did your bidding.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Arthur. “Are you sure you didn’t cast some kind of spell on him?”
Arthur grinned at his old friend. “I suppose I should take this as proof he’s not the idiot I thought he was. Let’s hope he’s not brought my sister. We can do without her interference.”
My thoughts exactly. Automatically, my hand went to the hilt of my dagger where it sat in its leather-bound scabbard on my belt.
Arthur slithered down the now not-so-grassy bank, leaving the men still watching the approach of our putative reinforcements. With one last look, I slid down as well, on my bottom half the way, and hastened after him. He stopped where we’d set up our own small camp, and began pulling on his mailshirt.
I bent and picked up my own. “You don’t trust him?”
A wry laugh issued from inside his mailshirt, before his head emerged, hair tangled. “About as far as I could throw him. And you know how far that’d be, now he’s got so fat. So arm yourself for battle– just in case.”
Haha. Easy enough for him to have professed confidence that his brother would stick to their agreement when they were miles apart. He’d changed his tune now they were about to come face to face.
