The Beast of Caer Baddan (9 page)

“Britu-”

“You touch my sister and by God and all the ancestors, I shall run you through!”

“If you know me well, Clansman,” Owain said, serious to match his cousin’s fury, “then you would know that I would not do that with my own clanswoman.”

“Swear it,” Britu said.

“I swear it, Britu, on the Sword of Togadum.”

Britu let go of him then. “Very well,” he said, his voice turning aloft and serene.

“Britu,” Owain said, “we are like brothers, you and I.”

“That is true,” Britu replied.

Owain put a comforting arm around his cousin, and they walked to the hall.

“Euginius, my nephew,” King Gourthigern said, his relief marked in his gruff voice. “There you are.”

“God keep you, Uncle,” Owain replied. “Annon, Swale.”

“What shall we do about the Gewissae?” Annon said.

“Patience, Annon,” Owain replied. “Let the king speak, for it is he who called us to his aid.
Uncle?”

They sat down around the table, and the king explained.

“The Gewissae have prepared for battle in secret and are just now gathering a force in the Town of Hol,” he said. “They have been discontent for months, but now they mean war.”

“How do you know they are in Hol?” Swale said.

“The scouts have seen how they gathered their warriors in other places as well, including their capital Tiw,” the king replied. “But the general movement is towards Hol.”

He wiped his brow with the palm of his hand as he recalled the events.

“Twenty years ago, they came to this great land of Albion, because we needed them,” he continued. “They did their work, beating back the Pictii who invaded Went, and settled in the area designated for them. And then they wanted more land, and more, and more. I cannot contain them any longer. This is the third rebellion they have started, and the island cannot take another.”

“They are Saxon,” Britu said
, as if to say that Saxon was synonymous with murderous scoundrel.

“Euginius?” said the king with a pleading look to Owain.

“True,” Owain said. “They are Saxon.”

Owain did not equate Saxon or any other people with villainy. They were simply not his people. At that moment, they were an adversary to crush. He was determined that, as long as he lived, the Gewissae would never rise up against Atrebat or any other Britannae kingdom again.

Owain took the map that lay open on the table and found the locations. Tiw was in the northwestern side of Gewissae land, Hol positioned in the southeastern part, and many villages specked around the land.

“Hol, Tiw, these towns are too far apart for reinforcements,” he said. “If they are gathered at Hol, they are all there or going in that direction.”

“What of Anlof here?” Britu asked, pointing to the place north of Hol on the map.

“Too exposed,” Owain replied. “Anlof is too small a village to hide an army. They would not risk gathering where we would notice them so easily. No. They meet in Tiw and then move to Hol. Anyone from Anlof or any of the towns in the southern land would simply gather in Hol.”

“Then they are in Hol and shall strike from Hol,” King Gourthigern said.

Owain heard the bitterness in the king's voice.

“Strike where?” Annon asked, his own voice bursting with excitement.

Owain smiled at Annon’s eagerness to contribute to the war plans.

“A number of different possibilities,” he replied. “Venta-”

“Here?” Britu said. “They would not dare!
Barbarians!”

“I would well believe them capable of anything now,” King Gourthigern replied.

Britu frowned in annoyance, as if the king’s contradiction was simply to oppose him.

“What of Caer Corin?” Annon asked. “It is not so easily defended as here.”

The word Corin made Owain’s ears sting. He heard it often enough, had been to that city a great deal, and yet after sixteen long years, the mere mention of it bit him like a venomous snake.

“Which makes it also a likely target,” Owain said, clearing his throat. “However, their taxes are paid to Atrebat and not to Glouia. They would do nothing to their advantage by destroying Corin.
Besides Corin is not ideally placed to Hol. They could more easily attack it from Tiw and so would not have moved the men from there all the way south to Hol. Dore in Dumnonnia is a far more likely target for such a maneuver. However, Venta remains the most likely object of their desire.”

“I think they would come here to Venta,” Swale said. “If they have been biding their time all these years, they have planned this out with the greatest care. They shall strike us where they think it shall do us the most harm.”

“That is true,” King Gourthigern said. “They want blood and shall take over the whole of Atrebat if they are not stopped.” 

“Let us no
t forget what they did to Donwy,” Swale said.

“Of course not,” Britu replied.

They grew silent as the memory of that unfortunate town filled their minds. Only Annon frowned in confusion.

“What-” Annon said.

Owain knew that the boy was only trying to ask for an explanation, but as he felt it was neither the time nor place for a story of past woe, he stopped him with a quieting hand.

“We shall destroy the Gewissae first,” Owain said.
“Beginning with Hol.”

“I'm concerned of Anlof for its location,” Britu said. “It is an easy stopping point for those from the northern villages. And it is not altogether small.”

“It is an ideal location,” Owain said. “Yet its size still makes it unlikely to be a threat.”

“I know,” Swale said, “but we have
Sir Vesanus here and the fifty knights. If I leave tonight, I shall be there before dawn. Any threat, however small, would be eradicated without revealing our intentions for Hol.”

Owain thought on this for a moment and realized that approaching Hol from two ways, both north and east, would give them an added advantage.

“Very well, Swale,” he replied. “Take the knights to Anlof. Eliminate every threat.”

“You are the dominae, Euginius,” the king replied. "Do whatever you think is best."

“Good,” Owain said. "I shall."

For that was exactly what he had been doing for six years passed, whatever he thought best, or even, whatever he felt like doing.

Owain remembered how just a month after his nineteenth birthday, the emperor had appointed him a dominae, head of the military. There was not much for Owain to lead at that time, for just after the announcement, the emperor gathered the last Roman legion that was left on the island and departed for the continent, never to return. Albion was left unprotected but for a few auxiliaries scattered across the land. 

Owain was undaunted, however, and built up from nothing the Army of Albion. He defended his father’s kingdom of Glouia from the invading Eire and then crossed the waters into Eirenn and attacked his enemies on their own land. Some valuable crystals and other spoils of war that he had taken back from Eirenn he ordered sold in the market in Caer Gloui. With this income, Owain had outfitted his men with new armor and weapons and refortified their barracks in the greatest city on the island.

He then reinforced the auxiliaries and saved undefended kingdoms from other foreign invasion. Everyone of power soon recognized Owain as the dominae, and all of the common Britannae called him their hero.

For years after that, Owain went wherever he wanted to, doing whatever he wished, and gaining much praise for it. His enemies revered him, and only his closest friends dared criticize his actions.

Here in the hall at the castle of Atrebat, Owain leaned back in his chair, comfortable and at ease, and his unmoving confidence seemed to fill them all.

Chapter Eight: Of Servants and Kings

The sounds of laughter filled the mead hall. The warriors, men of all the towns of the countryside, gathered around the tables that stretched the length of the large room. A blazing fire went down the center towards the far back of the hall, where Sigbert Earlmann of Holton sat on his wooden throne, surrounded by the banners of the land.

“Today is a great day for us, Saex of Gewisland,” he said, raising his cup of mead. “Here sits with us our brave ruler, the great Giwis Cyning of Tiwton!”

The crowd erupted with cheers for their most powerful prince. He was praised even before the Saex had directed their long boats to that island. They had even taken to calling themselves by his name, the Gewissae.

“The mighty Wigmund Earlmann of Anlofton!”

The men of Anlofton shouted their approval of their distinguished ruler.

Sigbert Earlmann continued to announce eaach of the earlmenn by name, and the warriors for the different towns yelled and pounded the tables for their leaders.

“And all the warriors of the Saex!”
Sigbert Earlmann cried.

Once more, men yelled so loudly, the whole hall trembled at the noise.

“We have gathered to strike off this long held yoke and stand free men of Gewisland!”

He took his seat again, as the warriors chanted his name.

“Hale Sigbert Earlmann of Holton!” they cried.
“Hail Sigbert Lord of the Town of Hol!”

Giwis Cyning rose from his chair and put up two hands to quiet the crowd. “Long have been the years of servitude to these Britisc. Short shall be this war of freedom. Tomorrow, we shall spill Atrebat blood. Tomorrow, we shall burn Atrebat land. Tomorrow, we shall topple Atrebat walls. Tomorrow we shall stand victorious over their gods!”

“Hale Giwis Cyning of Tiwton, Cyning of tha Saex!” the warriors cried.
“Hail Giwis King of the Town of Tiw, King of the Saxons!”

“Tomorrow, my brothers,” Giwis Cyning said, “Uuoden King of the Gods shall give us victory!”

The whole room erupted with the yells of praise.

Leola stood in the far back in the shadows of the banners, her blue eyes fixed on the men who crammed into the mead hall. She had spent the whole afternoon scrubbing the hall clear for the arrival of some five hundred warriors from all over Gewisland. Now that it was evening, her shoulders ached, and her hands were rubbed raw. Thus after the initial serving, Leola had found comfort and solitude along that darkened far wall, out of the glaring eyes of the other servants.