The Eaorl (The Casere Book 2) (38 page)

‘I noticed the Twacuman.’ He bowed respectfully to Derryth, ‘It is a long time since our town have been graced by their presence. I am happy to pass on the information.’ He turned to leave, and he turned back and shook Conn’s hand again. ‘Thank you.’

Conn looked at Derryth despairingly. ‘How come places are graced by your presence? Never mine?’

‘Just wait a bit – I’m sure there will be a female here who would like you to grace her bed…’

The followed the Thane outside and studied the night sky. The wiga were positioned all around the streets; they were too narrow for a full on cavalry charge and his archers had gained good positions to cover any attempt at men at arms storming their position – though he expected them to try.

‘We are going to need a high point; it is too far to see from here. Where is a tower?’

Derryth pointed one out and after a few instructions the fryd moved in that direction; not being prepared for the onslaught at night, the Motya wiga fled; much to the consternation of their officers, all of whom ultimately chose to flee themselves. The famous superior night vision of the Twacuman wiga made everyone very nervous.

The tower was abandoned by the time it was surrounded by Conn’s wiga, and he climbed to the tope and using his bow, fired an arrow high into the sky. At its peak, it exploded in the night sky, to the probable amazement of all those below. It was like a small sun burst, and Conn waited for the response. It was also a white flare and Conn descended.

‘All good. It would seem that there are insufficient forces to prevent their crossing; he must have pulled a lot back here. We just need some rain at dawn.’

Derryth looked at the night sky. ‘No chance of that –it’s a beautiful night.’

Derryth cursed him as they sat shivering; they were still dry but the wind had a bite to it. An hour before dawn, the clouds had set in and the rain started; a slow continuous drizzle.

Conn remonstrated with Derryth. ‘What are you looking at me like that for? It not as if I can just request rain, is it? You told me that even the Gyden can’t control weather.’

‘It is just very suspicious; that all I’m saying, just very suspicious. Are we ready? We need to finish this – I’ve run out of coffee.’

During the night, Conn and his wiga had left their base around the tower and moved silently through the town to be outside the palisade walls. The other problem for the town was that it was quite densely developed and buildings were tucked into every available space. Fighting on foot was possible, but on horseback, impossible. The building they controlled now were directly under the largest watchtower in the town.

Conn had purchased most of the buildings in the vicinity; offering gold Ryals to the inhabitants to run away. He had few refusals. He then stacked the base of the building with the small kegs of black powder that he brought specially, carried all the way from Piada.

He then ran a long fuse of the door of the building, and waited.

By midday, things started to get interesting; pinned down as they were by several hundred wiga; they observed the Rakian wiga starting to become agitated; with cavalry being replaced by infantry wiga. Conn’s fyrd must now be outside the town, and it wasn’t long before they saw the red flare, in the now blue sky. Immediately, Conn lit the fuse and watched the spark slide its way over the ground and into the shed. There was then a pause before the largest noise that anyone in Motya had ever heard; the corner tower literally exploded into matchsticks; and after the dust and smoke cleared, the hole in the wall was considerable bigger than planned.

Derryth chided Conn. ‘I don’t think you bought enough houses.’

With a signal to his bagpiper, they commenced their attack to music. Men charged through the clearing smoke, sword or bow in hand, to find chaos inside; there were bodies of dead or wounded wiga throughout the bailey; and those that were left didn’t put up much resistance; none after the first battle was concluded – that being the charge of cavalry from the main hall, led by the Earl himself. With his death, resistance crumbled, he and his riders falling to the yari wielded by Conn’s infantry. As men surrendered around him, Conn singled to one of his men and another arrow and flare soon lit up the sky; ordering his forces to withdraw. No unnecessary deaths required.

As the fryd spread out to secure the keep and collect all wiga, Conn headed up the stairs and inside the great hall.

Egrys il Ashkel was nonchalantly sitting at one of the table. He stood as Conn arrived.

‘I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get here.’ He shrugged, ‘I tried to suggest to him that he was unable to win, but he wasn’t interested. He hadn’t been to Trokia. Anything you want me to do?’

‘Yes, go and tell the cavalry to return to base – the day is lost.’

‘Very well. I can do that. No charge.’

‘Oh – and take one of my men with you to pass the message on – they will be waiting for instructions.’

After they had secured horses the two men rode out while Conn stayed in the hall. Servants and officials nervously hovered until Conn assured them that they were safe from harm. He ordered ale and bread and waited as cleaning up of the mess outside commenced. He also had all the servants clean up inside as well. He had a meeting to convene and it gave then something to do.

Very soon Egrys returned with the commanders of the Eaorl’s wiga, and not long after they were joined by a squad from Conn’s medical Corp and his commanders, Aelfstan and Osdred. He had also brought with him Conn’s old guest – Ipan il Lipara, Folctoga and Thane in Lipara. After greeting Ipan warmly, he led them inside and sat them down.

He brought them up to date with the deaths of the Eaorl, and he assumed that any desire to prolong the war was gone. The Folctoga agreed – they also looked confused – rudderless.

‘Now, I understand that Art had no sons – like me he was blessed with lots of daughters?’

The Folctoga agreed.

‘Well, so that thing can progress in an orderly manner, I am appointing Kane il Lipara as the next Eaorl of Motya.’

Kane was six years old – and not many had even heard of him, so everyone looked confused – including Ipan – who was Kane’s father.

Conn explained who he was – Kane’s mother is the daughter of the Eaorl Amargein. Ipan felt obliged to point out the obvious. ‘Eaorl, Kane is but a child…’

‘I know, so I am also appointing you, Ipan il Lipara, as Regent for his son until he reaches the age of twenty.’

Everyone still looked confused.

Conn explained. ‘You might wonder why I can do this. Well, in a short while the Healdend of Rakia will be no more – the Healdend will be gone and those demesne that were once part of Silekia, will return to Silekia. I’m sure that you will understand – given recent circumstances – that I have a certain amount of influence in the Silekian Witan?’ They nodded. ‘And it will be my recommendation that Kane be the next Eaorl, and that Ipan be Regent. Do we all agree that is a probable outcome?’

They all agreed and Conn got up to leave.

‘Good. Well, I’ll leave you now. I have a rebellion to conclude. Ipan, walk with me.’

Ipan listened to Conn as they walked out to the bailey, where his horse now waited. Derryth and half a dozen Twacuman was all that remained of his fyrd still in the town. Derryth was sipping a cup of coffee. He was holding an extra.

Conn found Egrys waiting for him. He introduced Ipan to him and explained the situation.

Egrys shook Conn’s hand again. ‘Last night I went and purchased the freedom of my bedda and children; I don’t know how to thank you enough.’

‘Your family was an inadvertent causality of the Troakian war – that wasn’t fair to them so I was happy that I could help – also, I’ve asked Ipan to return your demesne and he will be appoint you Folctoga of the wiga that remain. Good luck.’

Leaving the stunned man standing, Conn mounted the stallion, and turned and followed Derryth outside the town. Derryth hand him the coffee pannikin, and was eating bread and cheese as he rode.

Conn looked at him despairingly. ‘I hope you haven’t eaten it all; I’m starving.’

‘I thought you had some bread and cheese inside?’

‘That was what I asked for –I wasn’t sure what it was that I got. And the Eaorl’s ale was worse than the stuff we drank last night. I’m dying for a decent beer.’

By the time that Conn and Derryth had caught up to the head of the fyrd, they had stopped and were preparing for the night, and an hour later Conn had a meeting with his commanders. They sat around a table and a map of Rakia, and of all his maps, Rakia was the poorest and the oldest.

He confirmed with Aelfstan. ‘So you are pretty sure that a squad of Rakians left the battle field and didn’t return to the town?’

‘They definitely took the road south. It was hard to see from a distance but I’m sure a couple were Ancuman as well.’

‘So we can assume that they know about the fall of Motya then; and we can assume that Alric will be gathering his forces to stop us going further south.’ Conn pointed to a river and surrounding area on the map. ‘According to what we know this area between here and the coast is soft ferns and marshlands – and not very hospitable to a large number of horses and carts. It has also been raining recently so we need to avoid that. And if we stay on the high lands we will run straight into them.’

‘Which could get a little messy.’ Derryth offered.

‘Indeed. Now, the river that separated Soloes and Motya heads west– as does the one that separates Rakiak and Motya. They are both sources in the range to our east. If Alric is waiting here’ Conn pointed to the river, ‘and we send part of our fyrd here – pikemen and bowmen – under Aelfstan, to wait for Alric, while the rest of us go up here, cross over here, and come down here, we’ll get behind him.’ Conn traced a line over the map.

Derryth looked at him in disbelief. ‘What happens if we can’t find a way across the range – and across the river? We will have to come back down again – Aelfstan will have no cavalry protection for a week.’

‘Aelfstan will arrive at the river before Alric – they will be expecting us to stay in Motya for a few days. If Aelfstan gets into position early, there is no way he can be defeated. And by the time we arrive, they will just be getting settled in.’

‘If we arrive. We may never make it out of the mountains.’

Conn smiled. ‘I’m relying on my Twacuman friends to ensure that doesn’t happen.’

‘Probably just as well we are here then. Priecuman seem to love getting lost.’

The next morning Conn led seven companies of riders, with only a minimal number of pack horses carrying essentials, east to the mountains while Aelfstan continued south. The road east, scouted out by the Twacuman, was slow but uneventful and they made a steady climb up the range. After three days, it was getting slower and steeper, and in some places they had to stop and lead the horse rather than ride.

Derryth arrived back with good news.

‘I’ve found a way across the range – we will be in the other valley tomorrow.’

‘Excellent. So why don’t you look happy?’

‘The northern side of the river is too steep – we have to cross over the river – but the river up high is just a ravine; the banks are too steep to get down.’

Conn though for a moment. ‘How wide is the ravine?’

‘Thirty yards maybe – at the narrowest.’

‘And if we get across?’

‘Looks easy enough.’

‘What about trees? Do we have any that we can cut to span that gap?’

Derryth looked at him curiously. ‘If you are thinking wheat I’m thinking, you’re crazy. How we get them across the ravine?’

‘I’ll think about it. Get two cut that are long enough to easily span the gap.’

By midmorning the next day, they were in sight of the ravine, having passed over the range and commenced travelling downhill. Conn surveyed the site. The river had cut the ravine between the two steep granite banks and the walls about sixty foot high; the other consideration was that water was running quite rapidly. Conn sent for ropes and started to strip.

Derryth looked at him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going for a swim. I need all the ropes we have tied together; the smallest at the beginning, and the thickest at the end. I’ll drag it across to the other side so we can get some men across. We won’t get the bridge in place without it.’

‘How you getting across the water?’

‘You’re helping me.’

‘And how am I doing that?”

Without the proper abseiling equipment with him, it was problematic but eventually Conn had ropes in place to do the job. He explained it all to Derryth and Conn eased himself over the edge of the bank and started his descent.

‘And you’re expect me to follow you?’

‘I need you down here to help me across the river. Nothing to worry about – the boys will let you down slowly.’

‘So you say.’

By the time Derryth was down, having complained the whole way, Conn was testing the water. It was cold, despite the fact that it was summer. Derryth stood beside him on the rocks.

‘So what do you want me to do now? They is nothing to tie a rope onto…’

‘No, you are just going to have to get yourself anchored behind a boulder. I’ll wade out and it is only that middle bit when the current is strong – I don’t want to end up too far down the river. You ready?’

With the rope anchored around a large boulder, and Derryth ready to feed it out, Conn waded into the cold water, with the rope tied around his shoulders. The water got deep quickly, Conn dived into the stream; the rope being eased out. When the current hit him, the rope went tight and Conn disappeared under water before reappearing, with Derryth fighting at his end to stop Conn disappearing down the river. On the surface, Conn swam strongly, inching his way across, and by the time that Derryth had almost run out of rope, he had found the other bank, two hundred foot downstream. He signalled to Derryth, as made his way upstream until he could find a way up the ravine wall; it had been a while since he had done any free solo climbing – a sport of his youth.

By the time he was on the top, Derryth had also been helped up, and they faced each other over the ravine. Conn started to pull in the rope than he had so laboriously carried up the wall, until he had a dozen ropes securely to trees. The rope bridge created, wiga made their way across the ravine, one at a time, bringing more ropes. With enough men on Conn’s side to started to pull the first of several one hundred foot pine pole. By the end of the next day, they have five logs in position and secure, and, with the top of the footbridge filled in with mud and soil; to give the animals sure footing on the somewhat flexible bridge. That being said, without the Elfina horses that the Twacuman rode, it would have been extremely unlikely that any horse would have crossed, but with Elfina intermixed with regular horses, the first animals were across by lunchtime the second day, and were sent to scout the road down and way out of the mountain.

With a thousand horses on the mountain, it took a very long while to get them over the bridge and ready to descend – and when they did, it was almost two days since they had started crossing. The descent was easy in comparison to the ascent and after another two day, they camped light less than a few hours from where the Rakians were spotted. Derryth had left before daybreak with a scouting party and had returned at dawn. Conn sat on the stallion; now armoured, waiting for the sun that was due in less than thirty minutes.

‘Aelfstan seems to have them held on their side of the river. As far as I can tell, there hasn’t been much interaction between the two fyrds. Alric still has men arriving so must be waiting for them.’

‘Did the messenger get back safely?’

‘He did – Aelfstan will start retreating as soon as the sun comes hits the Rakian camp.’

‘Any buildings?’

‘Just a travel stop – some Inns and liveries. The main village is further down the river.’

Conn gave the signal and they marched downhill, the sun behind them. With Aelfstan withdrawing to his secondary line, he hoped that Alric would take to opportunity and start to push his fyrd forward, removing their stability and opening up the lines. He also hope that they would be distracted from studying the eastern horizon too carefully. Two miles out, they started to canter, slowly, and as soon as they were spotted, they lifted their speed. As was his standard practise, the Sagittari surged forward – there was five hundred of them, and the now open lines of the Rakians provided plenty of targets.

The Rakians veered right and left as they got to bow range, peppering the Rakians with arrows. The last of the horses and riders didn’t veer – the cataphracts went straight ahead – directly for the Rakian cavalry – hitting with force; the lances taking out a hundred on the first charge and then more died as swords carving a wide hole through the middle of the line.

Those that had crossed the river now found that the supposedly retreating force had changed their minds and as the pikes slowed the cavalry down, the bowmen picked them off with will. It wasn’t long before the wiga started to surrender, and as Conn reformed his wiga in the west, he looked at the devastation; there seemed to be hundreds lying dead on the field. War was a terrible thing.

Derryth called a warning. ‘Someone is trying to get away.’

‘That will be Alric and the Ancuman; let’s make sure they don’t get away.’

Kicking his great stallion into action, Conn loaded his bow and chased after the escaping wiga – some twenty riders – as they headed for the village. As he neared the buildings sentries with bows tried to halt their progression but an arrow from Conn or Derryth eliminated the threat.

The riders were just about to head to the open road when they saw a squad of Sagittari along the road and instead turned into the village, nipping in and out of buildings. Seeing his chance and regretting the need, Conn fired at Alric’s horse; hitting him deep in the side, and in the heart. It would be a clean death, but the poor animal stumbled long enough for Alric to cleanly dismount and race into the nearest building.

His escort was too far past him to pull around and return easily and faced with a fifty Twacuman bowmen, they instead turned into a narrow lane and disappeared from view until the horses came out the other side, riderless. They had entered the Inn from the rear.

Conn pulled up his horse. ‘Keep them surrounded. I’ll take care of Alric.’

He dismounted and walked between the buildings that Alric had escaped into; ‘Alric!’

There was no answer.

‘There is no point in running – the village is surrounded – your Ancuman friends are surrounded. Surrender is your only option…’

Alric couldn’t help himself. ‘I will not surrender … there is no honour in surrender. I dishonoured myself once, I will not do it again.’

His voice haven given away his position, Conn had been able to put himself in a position where he could see the Aebeling. He was behind the corner of the small shop. Conn walked out so that Alric could see him.

‘Since you won’t surrender, if you can defeated me, you and yours can go home – you can live to fight another day. Is that a deal too good to be true or not?’

‘How do I know that your men will agree?’

‘It’s the standard deal I offer. Derryth will guarantee my word.’

Alric walked out swinging his sword. ‘You were lucky last time – I’ve been practising – I’m much better than I was then.’

‘One can only hope.’

He was better – he attacked and parried, and attacked again – but he sadly didn’t see that he was being played with – that it wasn’t luck that allowed Conn to escape his killer thrust; and it wasn’t bad luck that didn’t stop the wakizashi thrust under his armour and into his heart. There was astonishment on his face as he fell forward, dead. Conn retrieved his sword and signalled to some of the wiga that had arrived to come and take his body away – respectfully.

Derryth had been watching. ‘We have a problem.’

‘Another one?’

‘The Ancuman have hostages.’

Conn shook his head. ‘I hate hostage negotiations.’ He followed Derryth around to the Inn that Twacuman surrounding it.

Arriving at the Inn, Conn called out. ‘This is Conn il Taransay, Eaorl of this and that. Send out someone to negotiate. You have my word that they will be free from any attack.’

A voice came out of the building. ‘We will not negotiate – give us our horses and safe passage out of the village or we will kill our hostage.’

It was clear that they were of Axum as well because Conn could feel immediately the voice in their head. The hate, the loathing; it made negotiating difficult. He shut her out.

Conn looked at Derryth. ‘This is why I hate hostage negotiations.’ He called out again. ‘How many hostages?’

There was a pause before a curious, ‘Twelve…’

‘What are their names?

There was now irritation. ‘Names – why do you want to know their names?’

‘For commercial reasons – after I burn the building down, I’ll have to pay wergild and I want to know who I should pay it to – and how much.’

Now anger. ‘Are you insane?’

‘No, pragmatic. Actually, now that I think about it – if you kill them, I don’t have to pay the wergild. You do. I’ll send a letter of demand to your family in Kishdah. What is your name?’

He was shouting now. ‘You are out of your mind! My family will never pay the wergild of Priecuman!’

‘I’ll go and collect it myself then – in blood. Tell me your name.’