‘But shouldn’t the Marquis of Rasadi be on that,’ she pointed ‘side of the mountain. Not this.’
‘That is true. But I’m also the Steward of Tashke so I have a demesne on this side to take care of.’
She stopped and looked from one to the other. ‘That is too much to process at one time. Also it doesn’t make sense.’
‘You only know half of it,’ Derryth added, ‘so I have a question for you. Why is a Twacuman riding with Ancuman? That doesn’t make sense either.’
She nodded. ‘It is not of my choice – our Aebeling has an agreement with the Ancuman in Pontia. We assist the Pontians as we best can – they don’t burn down our forest.’
‘And you also don’t stop them from attacking Rila…is that because your Aebeling is a hostage of the Ancuman Marquis of Kapisi?’
She was almost startled. ‘How do you know all of this?’
‘Because I am also the Marquis of Rila.’
She laughed out loud. ‘Now you jest with me. It is impossible that you could have so many demesne …’ she looked at Derryth. ‘Cousin, surely he jests?’
Derryth shook his head. ‘Nothing he has said so far is a falsehood.’
‘But the Marquis of Rila recently defeated a large number of Pontian wiga in a battle – many were taken prisoner. Why are you not there – instead of being lost in the middle of nowhere…’
Derryth feigned being hurt. ‘We are not lost – we know exactly where we are. I’m personally not so sure at this very moment but normally I am. As for Rila, believe it or not, we are on our way there. We are taking the long way – the road less travelled you could say – or more accurately the road never travelled by anyone on their way to Rila cause it is in the wrong direction.’
‘Never mind him. More to the point’, Conn asked, ‘How did you find us? What were you doing in the range?’
‘Looking for the path through the mountains that you obviously used. The Ancuman have been searching for all the ancient roads – and that is why the Ancuman have us with them. Our horses can find a path anywhere. They want it for future campaigns.’
Conn’s fyrd had started to settle for the night by the time they arrived, and Hallvi looked with interest at the horses as they arrived.
‘I have an inkling that I’m going to regret asking, but the only grey horses in Sytha belong to the Marquis of Kerch – sometimes you will see one or two but you have four hundred. From a distance I thought we were mistaken but they are definitely greys. Why…’
‘Most of these wiga are Kerchians because I am also the Marquis of Kerch.’
It was almost too much for the woman. ‘None of this makes sense.’ She looked back at Derryth, ‘You are a Wothbora – you tell me how this makes sense.’
‘I wish I could but I can’t. Instead, I like to focus on food and coffee. Saves me getting too confused. Would you like a cup?’
‘What is coffee?’
The next morning they looked down into a small valley. A village sat on the banks of a waterway that was fed from the mountains. Quite large, there were over thirty roundhouses, extensive fields and lots of animals in yards and pens. Even a few paddocks,
‘And we can’t get around it?
Hallvi shook her head. ‘No – there are many smaller villages up and down the valley – and herdsmen everywhere.’
‘So through it is – and how many Ancuman wiga?’
‘Eight left.’
Conn spoke to Brictdred and he raced off to pass on orders. Soon the fyrd split into three; part going south of the village while part went north. The rest followed Conn down as he headed directly for the village. They then watched as four horsemen raced off, two north and two south. Ancuman, they were riding buckskins. They would not get far. That left four.
Soon after a detail of horsemen rode out to greet them; carrying a white flag of truce. Conn halted his company and waited for the Merian wiga to arrive on their small horses. Conn had his fyrd fan out; a wall of grey horses and three Elfina. Formidable at best, terrifying at worst.
They recognized Hallvi and she explained what had happened to her companions. She then did the introductions. ‘Beoric is the Folctoga. The Steward is away invading Rasadi as we speak. Beoric, this is the Marquis of Rasadi. He wishes to pass through your lands.’
The Folctoga was dumbfounded. He was too busy staring at the horses.
‘Folctoga,’ Conn interrupted, ‘given that your Steward is going to attack my demesne, I feel that I am more than entitled to burn your village to the ground, kill you all, and ravish your women.’ He paused as if to consider what he had said. ‘Actually that doesn’t work. We’ll ravish your women, kill you all, and then burn down the village. Not much sense in burning the beds and killing the women BEFORE ravishing them is there. That’s just silly. We’d also have to pillage before burning too. Otherwise there isn’t anything left to pillage. So, now that I know the order of events, what I want to know is should I do it before breakfast or after? I’m happy to give you the choice…’
Finally finding his voice, the Folctoga spoke, barely over a whisper. ‘If we surrender, will that make a difference?’
Conn nodded. ‘Surrender? What a novel idea. I guess that is an alternative.’ Conn nodded symbolically. ‘Yes, surrender works for me. If you do that, we’ll just ride on past. No killing, plundering, ravishing or burning. Would you care to lead the way; we need to get to Rasadi as soon as possible. Please take us where your fyrd crossed the mountain – oh, when did they pass?’
‘Umm, they, umm, passed not two days ago. So you are going to let us live?’
‘Since you have surrendered. Only seems fair. Lead on.’
They followed the wiga down to and through the village. Derryth bent forward as if to fix his stirrup, his face away from anyone visible he whispered urgently. ‘One hundred paces to the right – a bow – get your shield ready.’
‘Got it.’ Conn always had a small arm shield attached to the pommel of the saddle. He reached down and casually removed it from its lashings. Whilst not fitted properly, he would be able to raise it quickly – and there was no one who could move quicker than Conn. A few more paces and Derryth yelled:
‘Now!’
Conn raised the shield to cover his side; the bowman would never attempt a head shot from that distance and the arrow thudded into the shield. Even if he missed, his brigantine would have prevented injury but not pain and bruising. Immediately Balios whirled and within minutes was in full gallop towards the assailant. He hated people trying to kill his rider. He leapt fences and barricades in his path and within moments Conn could see the assailant fleeing, jumping down from the roof of a roundhouse. He clearly didn’t expect his target to respond in that fashion and he now had no choice but to run. Unluckily he had chosen a spot without a lot of cover or places to hide and he fell sprawling to the ground as Conn’s foot hit him in the shoulder.
But the time he had regained his feet, Conn was on the ground as well, his dagger in his hand. The Ancuman only had a dagger and Conn demanded he get it out. With no other choice, he attacked and was dead before everyone else got to him.
Derryth arrived soon after and they both turned to see three horsemen burst out of the barracks, bows in hand. Before they had a chance to fire an arrow, Derryth and Conn had fired; arrows thudded into their unprotected necks. They slid off their horses on to the ground.
‘Are you two always so dramatic? Headshots? At this distance? You could miss.’ Hallvi was shaking her head in disbelief.
Conn and Derryth looked at each other, and spoke simultaneously. ‘Miss? What does that word mean?’
With the village secure, and after Hallvi had collected her belongings and they had taken the Ancuman horses and weapons as booty, they continued their way through and toward the mountains; leaving the bemused Folctoga behind at the base. The path through the mountain was quite defined now after the masses of horses had passed this way.
‘How did they find this pathway then?’
‘My brother. It took him a while but he found it. His name is Wilric.’
‘So he is with the fyrd?’
‘Yes; I hope you don’t accidently kill him.’
‘That would be a shame. We will try hard not to.’
With the other parts of his fyrd re-joining him with the Ancuman horses no longer needed by their riders, they camped cold, without flames, on top of the mountain. They headed down before it was light; the night sensitive eyes of the two Twacuman made their way easy. On the morning of the second day they arrived in sight of the Merian camp, before the camp was fully awake. Conn let two pigeons go and watched them fly away. They were his last two for Rasadi. He and the two Twacuman then went for a closer look, on foot.
‘How many do you think?’ Conn whispered to Derryth as they sat hidden in the trees.
‘At least two thousand. I see at least three hundred Ancuman. That is not good. How do we defeat them without cataphracts and pikemen?’
‘The painful way.’ He looked at Hallvi. ‘Have you seen your brother yet?’
‘Yes; he is on sentry duty – probably just about to finish.’ She pointed him out. ‘He will be very disappointed that we have bested him. How are we going to get his attention?’
‘Like this.’ Conn picked an arrow from his pack; an Ancuman arrow. He notched it and let it fly. They didn’t see it land but they saw Wilric jump; turn around and look at the arrow on the tree a foot behind his head. He pulled it out and sat down. They watched as he continued to sit quietly, before an Elfina mare, without saddle or bridle turned up.
Hallvi explained. ‘He has been whistling her. Takes a while when you don’t want to be noticed.’
After that they watched as Wilric moved his way around the camp without attracting notice until he was outside all the other sentries; he then disappeared into the forest. The horse wandered off soon after, grazing.
‘Not bad. Can you whistle him here?’
‘I can.’
After a few exchanges of whistles, and as they retreated up the mountain, a very bemused Wilric found himself confronted by his sister and two strangers. Hallvi did the introductions and explaining.
‘You would have me believe that you will take on that fyrd with four hundred men.’
‘Another force of several hundred will arrive from the south in a three days; our job is to ensure that they don’t get destroyed. Will you help us?’
‘Of course, you are the Feorhhyrde. I don’t happen to have any bows or swords, however.’
‘We have replacements…’
Wilric looked behind him. ‘Perhaps we should move; as soon as they discover I’m gone they will search for me and our people will be punished when they get home.’ He looked at his sister. ‘What happened to your minders?’
‘Dead.’
‘Let’s ensure that all these are as well.’ Conn added as he headed up the mountain. ‘We need a better position than this to make a stand.’
Conn found a level area on the road up and directed the siblings to hide while he stood in the middle of the path; the sounds of horses racing towards them was getting louder. As they entered the clearing, five Ancuman wiga came to a sudden halt as they saw Conn.
Conn held up his hand in greeting. ‘Good morning. You guys are in a hurry. Looking for someone, are you?’
‘Who in the name of Ashtoreth are you?’ One demanded.
None of these were bearers of haligdoms so they didn’t have an immediate answer.
‘Me? I’m Conn il Taransay from Meshech. Have you not heard of me?’
One nodded. ‘I have. The Feorrancund. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m coincidently the Marquis of Rasadi – you are about to attack my demesne. I have very mixed feelings about that. Oh, and if you are looking for the Twacuman, he is now under my protection, so you will have to kill me first.’
‘That will not be a problem…’ As he kicked his horse to run Conn over, two arrows flew from behind Conn and embedded themselves into his chest. None were in full armour. And the rest didn’t have time to turn and run before the clearing was strewn with dead bodies.
Derryth and Hallvi emerged from the forest. ‘How are we going to bury these? We don’t have any shovels?’
‘We’ll take them with us.’
‘Excellent, get someone else to dig their graves.’
They tied the bodies on to their horses and headed uphill. Conn directed Wilric to go back and keep an eye on the Merians and wait for them, and when they joined him several hours later, the camp was deserted.
Wilric watched the cavalry arrived with a look of awe.
‘Very impressive. And grey horses too. Grandfather will be very excited when we tell him. I do not know how many times he told us stories passed down to him of the circuits of Sytha by the Casere with Twacuman on Elfina and his Kerchian wiga on their grey horses.’
They followed along behind at a pace to ensure that they didn’t become too obvious. After a day however, it was clear that the fyrd was getting strung out, and Conn took an opportunity to cause some mayhem. A group of stragglers were camped a few miles apart from the Ancuman forces. They woke up to find their sentries all bound and Conn and a hundred bowmen on horses waiting for them to get out of bed. As they struggled out of their tents, the rest of Conn’s fyrd trotted up on the other side of the camp.
In the ensuing confusion, Conn sent one of the captives in to collect the Stewards, and sometime later ten men arrived.
One recognized Hallvi and she introduced him as the Steward of the village they had “visited”.
He looked shocked. ‘My people – are they all dead?’
‘Some are,’ Conn conceded, ‘but I think they were all Ancuman. They will stay that way if you turn around and go back.’
‘But we can’t – our Mundborak has decreed that we are to fight. We cannot desert our clan.’
‘I understand that. I appreciate your loyalty and sacrifice. I, do however, have one last question. Are you able to fight if you are dead?’
They looked at each other in confusion. One answered. ‘That is a silly question – of course we can’t.’
‘I agree. I was just confused when you said you couldn’t turn around and go home, because in thirty minutes, ALL of you will be dead. As dead wiga, you will be of no use to your clan today or tomorrow. I will give you five minutes to go and get your weapons and get dressed. I hate to kill men without weapons.’ He turned to go and immediately someone started talking.
‘Wait, wait, wait! No need to be too hasty. Sir, who are you? I do not recognize the device on your shields.’
Conn turned Balios back. ‘I am the Marquis of Rasadi, the Marquis of Kerch and the Steward of Tashke. What does your history tell you of the Kerchian wiga?’ His fyrd was carrying the Rasadi device as he hadn’t time to prepare Kerchian shields of sufficient quality and quantity.
They all looked past Conn to the line of grey horses, and all involuntarily took a step backwards. ‘We are taught that the “Battle of the Plains” would have been lost without the courage of the Kerchian and the skill of the Twacuman. When others took a step back, they stood firm despite their losses. When others ran, they charged.’
‘Well, gentlemen, the Kerchians are back and will charge your camp in ten minutes unless you agree to turn around and go home.’
‘Marquis?’ One raised his hand, ‘Sir, will the Mundborak learn of our lack of honour.’
‘That I do not know – but the new Mundborak will reward you for choosing life against death, and turning back from what you all know to be the actions not of the Mundborak but her Steward.’
They conferred very quickly amongst themselves before turning back. ‘Marquis, we find your arguments full of merit. We will return.’
‘Good, do it soon and do it quickly. If any of your Mundbora have a problem with your decision tell them I will personally arrange for them to go to Kishdah as a theow after we have killed the rest of you.’
As they were travelling light, it didn’t take the three hundred plus Merian horsemen long to pack, mount and turn around. By lunch there was no sign of them. Conn sent the siblings and a squad of wiga to keep an eye on them for the rest of day; just to make sure they didn’t get any new ideas.