The Beast of Caer Baddan (66 page)

“The Angle will see us from the road,” Owain said. “We shall take the forest.”

“You know these woods?” Britu asked.

They were far more south then Owain had ever remembered being in Ebrauc but he felt secure that he could find their way to the beach.

“I shall decipher them,” he replied.

They went on, leaving the dirt road for a slow windy way through the thick of the woods.
Owain leading, Britu after, and their knights and servants following. Their stout ponies did not mind the terrain, but the knights grew cautious of the unfamiliar land around them, lest some Angle scout should jump out of the trees and slay them.

Owain smelled the salty air of the open sea and heard the taunting yells of a sure victory before the forest opened into a grassy field.

The Angle camp lay just before them, and at the far north of it, the Angle warriors assembling for battle.

“The Angle
look to be five thousand,” Britu said.

“And the Parisi look to be one thousand,” Owain replied, his eyes glancing over the Angles’ line at the defending Parisi.”

“How long shall it take the Army to arrive?” Britu asked.

“Two more days if they obey orders,” Owain said. “We must stop this battle from taking place. Who is daring?”

“I am, Dominae,” one of the knights replied and three others then agreed.

“You shall come with me,” Owain said. “The rest of you get back into the forest cover and keep the ponies.”

“You cannot go out to five thousand warriors, Owain!” Britu cried.

Owain was amused at his cousin's horror.

“I climbed into the Attacotti hillfort, Clansman,” he said. “I’m not afraid to face the Angle.”

“Then I shall go with you,” Britu replied.

“Good.”

They lit eight torches and entered the side of the Angle camp. They brushed the burning ends against the few erected tents and all of the folded bedding on that end of the camp.

“Healtest!” a voice cried.
“Stop!”

Some of the warriors at the far rear of the Angle line had turned around to see them. These warriors yelled out and hurled a storm of missiles at them.

“Run!” Owain cried.

Britu and the knights dropped the torches and ran back to the forest to their waiting party. Owain’s quick feet turned to follow, but a darting pain shot up and down his back.

“Ugh!” he cried.

He dropped one of the torches and pushed on his back as far as he could reach. His effort to relieve the pain turned fruitless as the whole of his scaled back plate was too stiff to move inward from pressure. Press as he did, it only made his hand sore.

“Docga of a Britisc!” he heard an Angle voice cry.

One nimble warrior caught up to Owain where he had stopped. The Angle was tanned, and blond, and as young as Annon, and his long sword was ready to fight.

“Call me a dog, do you?” Owain said in Saxon. “Fight me then.”

He pushed the flaming end of the torch close to the young warrior’s face and drew out his own sword to attack. The Angle blocked his fire with his round painted shield and struck at Owain. Owain knocked the warrior’s sword away and sliced though his exposed shoulder.

“Owain!” Britu cried. “Get out of there! Run!” He turned to the knights with him. “Get out your arrows and shoot!”

The knights hastened to obey and shot over Owain onto the advancing Angle.

“Run, Owain!” Britu cried.

Owain dropped the torch and holding his back, he limped into the forest. The servants seized his arms and hoisted him up onto his mount.

“Ride! Ride!” Britu cried.

They went off just as the Angle warriors reached the edge of the forest. The Angle chased them and shot arrows at their fleeing backs, even as their war ponies galloped off into the thick of the woods.

“By the ancestors, Owain!” Britu cried, when they were safely away. “You nearly die again! What would your father do!”

Owain laughed.

“I did,” he replied. “But that is war, and that is always the way with war. Let us find King Vindi and greet him.”

“He had better pay us homage after this!”

Chapter Fifty Three: Looking for Peace

They found their way to the Parisi camp, where King Vindi had set up a council of war.

“Prince Owain and Prince Britu!” King Vindi said. “This is a blessed surprise! I thank you for coming.”

They left their mounts with the knights and servants and strode over to where the king was standing.

“God keep you, King,” Britu said.

“Do not thank us, so hastily,” Owain replied. “The Army cannot take the journey in such a short time. We are merely two princes and a handful of knights.”

“Any help is cherished, Dominae,” King Vindi. “You, most of all.”

But as he looked on Owain, the king’s eyes grew wide with horror.

“Belenus and Darama!” he cried. “You are covered in scars! Your whole face is burned!”

“Ie, King,” Owain replied, with a smile. “I am aware of my newfound deformities.”

“I- I-” the king flustered. “I beg your pardon, Dominae! I'm only surprised. I did not realize-”

“That I have been through Hades and back,” Owain replied.

He thought on the words a village blacksmith had spoken to him many months before to that respect.

The king was too embarrassed to respond.

“Ie, I have,” Owain continued. “I died and am now alive again. But that does not mean I cannot fight. Rest assured, I am most prepared to defend the Parisi from these Angles.”

“Ie!
Ie!” King Vindi cried. “Thank you, Dominae.”

The king seemed so shocked and abashed that he could not say anything intelligent, but Owain was not bothered by it. He was a warrior, and he would fight.

“Let us have the numbers,” Britu said, who was obviously irritated by the king’s ill manners. “We shall need them if we are to decide on a course of action.”

“Of course, Prince,” King Vindi replied, hardly grasping his own words. “I'm also grateful to have you both included in the battle planning. Tytmon the Angle King is as strong as ever.”

He led them to his meeting tent, and they sat down around the circular table.

“Swale Prince of Ewyas is bringing the Army of Albion north,” Owain said. “They should be here within two days.”

“God be praised!” said King Vindi. “You have gained us a day with that commotion you caused. The Angle are still putting that fire out. Perhaps we shall survive long enough for the Army to arrive.”

“We shall,” Britu said. “And the city shall be safe.”

“I am willing to believe anything after witnessing your daring today,” King Vindi replied.

“Good,” Britu said.

“Now what are your thoughts for tomorrow?” Owain asked.

The king hesitated as if unsure if he should reveal some information.

“I have forty chariots here that have been mounted with scythes,” he said. “But I fear my warriors are not accustomed enough to this form of warfare.”

Owain nodded, for he knew how hard it was to drive chariot without a large spike sticking out of the side. It had never been a part of ordinary warfare and therefore rarely mastered. Yet Owain himself had been more than proficient with any vehicle and although he had hardly driven since he was made a dominae, he felt confident that he could lead the charioteers if need be.

“Ie,” Britu said, “and the Angles form a wall of their shields, not unlike what we do ourselves.”

Owain thought on their own very Roman style of fighting, and how the individual was often times of no strength by himself and yet, with others, may form an impenetrable wall.

“Ie,” King Vindi said. “And I fear their strength.”

“We shall have to create a hole in this wall of theirs then,” Owain said.

“How?” King Vindi asked, bewildered.

“Draw them out?” Britu asked.

“Ie. Draw them out,” Owain replied. “Make them think that they are winning, and they shall create the holes themselves.”

Britu grinned. “That might work,” he said.

The plan went surprising well. The Angle, eager to claim a conquest, could not help but chase the fleeing Parisi before them. Once a group of Angles had left the safety of their formation, the Parisi soldiers turned on them in a vengeance. The gap that was left in the Angle’s shield wall was not filled with enough speed, leaving the exposed Angles as easy targets for the inexperienced charioteers.

Owain and Britu stood by King Vindi's side and watched a well-planned and well executed victory.

“For the land!” Owain cried.

“For the land!” the Parisi soldiers replied.

After three chariot attacks, the Angles departed for their own camp, and the Parisi celebrated, knowing they had cut their enemy’s number in half.

Owain himself marveled that he had created a situation where he, the Champion of Albion, had not had to do battle at all. He half wondered if that was even valid, if he could count it as his own success when he was not risking himself in the fighting.

A rider from the Army arrived, interrupting his musings.

“Message for the dominae from Swale Prince of Ewyas,” he said, saluting Owain.

Owain took the letter, broke the seal, and read.

He had to be impressed by Swale's perseverance. The older prince really did not know how to lead such a vast number of men as the Army contained, yet this time, it seemed he had succeeded.

“The victory is ours,” King Vindi said, his voice revealing his excitement and relief. “When this is over, no Angle shall never dare enter Parisi land again.”

“What is the news from Swale?” Britu asked of Owain.

“The Army is sixteen miles out and shall be here at noon tomorrow.” Owain replied. “Prince Swale has kept them to a perfect schedule.”

“Ie,” King Vindi said, with a merry laugh, “and now that we no longer need them, they come.”

“To be sure,” Britu said.

It did seem a bit ironic, yet Owain did not consider this victory as winning the war, for the Angle still out numbered the Parisi and might have reinforcements on the way.