Agkell tried a faint smile; his lips were covered in blood. He whispered, ‘You have been victorious today, Marquis, but the time will come when your daughters – your beautiful daughters – will have to pay for your transgressions. And they will be willing.’
Conn shook his head at the Folgere, the disgust like bile rose in his mouth. ‘What you say will never come to pass, Folgere.’
The Folgere laughed a rasping laugh, death close. ‘Sooner than you think, Feorrancund, even today we plan…’
Conn interrupted him, and in a very angry voice spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘Agkell, tell your Gyden that if any one of your order touch a single hair of any one of my daughters, I will hunt down and exterminate every last one of your order. One hair – your entire order. And do you know what a Gyden without Folgere is? I do – she is dead. That is the path that you choose if any of you touch any one of my daughters.’
Agkell listened in silence and suddenly fear appeared in his eyes. It was not his fear – it was his Gyden’s – Conn could suddenly sense the black stone that the Folgere wore. With Agkell dying, the connection was weaker and he could feel her anger and frustration – and for the first time, fear.’
The Folgere’s last moments were not pleasant. His last words were whispers; ‘No! No! No!’ Conn stripped the haligdom from around his neck and placed it in his pouch with the others.
Derryth reported in and saw the dead Folgere, and then looked at Conn.
‘I expected you to be happier?’
‘I’ve made a serious mistake. I interrupted him and I shouldn’t have.’ Conn told him what he had said.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘There is nothing I can do now – it’s a needle in a haystack, but I have a daughter in danger somewhere.’
~oo0oo~
By evening, the battlefield had been transformed, and with their usual precision, Logistics had put everyone to work building shelters, digging graves and pyres. He had almost as many prisoners as he had men and he separated them by demesne. Conn took Beobald il Kashgar, who had been kept behind the line with all the other Kashgarian prisoners, with him to meet the Kashgarians – a mixture of Thanes, their sons, Folctoga and wiga.
They were surprised to see Beobald – like everyone else, they had long thought him dead.
Conn recounted the story of his capture and imprisonment. He then surprised them with his offer. ‘Kashgarians, as I know something of Beobald, I am prepared to release you all without ransom – without forfeiture of your demesne if you still live – if you accept Beobald as your Eaorl.
Beobald was surprised. ‘Me? The next Eaorl? I am sure that Cenwald has closer kin than me.’
‘Do I look like I care?’ Conn was tired, he was covered in blood and grime, and he was still very angry with himself.
Beobald shook his head. ‘No, it would be fair to say that you don’t.’
Conn returned to face the group. ‘There is an alternative then. Cenwald’s closer relative become Eaorl and you all pay ransom for your release and to reclaim your demesne – if I decide to give it back to you.’ Conn paused for effect. ‘I’m starting to think that I was silly making that first offer – this one is much more profitable for me…’
He was interrupted by a chorus of cries from the group asking him not to repeal the offer.
‘OK then – do we agree? Beobald is your new Eaorl?’
Without hesitation, a long line formed and each bowed and pledged loyalty to Beobald, the new Eaorl of Kashgar.
‘Good. Now I need all that are able to get ready to leave at sunrise – I have a job for you. You are to go to Pontiak and secure it so that when I arrive, it is in peace, and I don’t have to burn it down and kill anyone. Prepare your horses and packs tonight. If you fail me, you fail all Pontians, and all of you will be sold as theow. Am I clear?’
They all nodded and soon went off to organize themselves for a daybreak departure.
Soon all that remained was the several hundred Ancuman axemen sitting in a circle in the middle of a field surrounded by bowmen. They had been there for over four hours. Conn didn’t want them to die of thirst, so sent out several barrels of water. He joined Derryth as he stood guarding the Ancuman.
‘Have they said anything?’
‘Not a whisper. Do you think you can convince them to surrender?’
‘I can only try. Are they all from Axum?’
‘Yes.’
‘Shame – I have a lot more success with the other nations. The Axum are so stubborn.’ He had hope though because there were no haligdoms – several had been collected from bodies so all Bretwalda related wiga were all dead.
Conn sent out one of the Kashgarians as a messenger to ask for a spokesman from the ranks of the Axemen for come out. After thirty minutes, two arrived, albeit reluctantly. Conn asked that one did the introductions.
‘I am Alhall il Nora, and this is Herben il Siris. We are Folctoga of Axum. Thank you for the water.’
‘You are welcome. I do not wish to kill you all. I am happy to consider alternatives.’
‘We will not surrender – we will not be theow. We would prefer death.’ they jointly responded.
‘What say you don’t surrender – let’s just have a cease fire? You can make your way back to Pontiak – under supervision – and from there you can get a boat and leave. The only weapons you can take is your sword. You don’t have to die and I don’t have to order your slaughter – which it surely will be. Even you can see that. It is simply a matter of time. I can wait days if I need to. After three days without water in this sun, you will all start to die.’
They nodded reluctantly and agreed to discuss it with their comrades. Now mid-afternoon, Conn requested that they send small groups to collect provisions so that they could set up a camp in the middle of the field. Not sheltered by trees, it was a better compromise than sleeping in the open on the ground. He also suggested that they send any injured out to be attended to. Conn also allowed them to collect any injured that had already been dealt with. Food and water was also supplied so that by evening, they were fairly comfortable – despite being under guard.
~oo0oo~
In the evening they sat and determined the final outcome. Their casualties were not large but significant – over three hundred with fifty dead. Conn would have lost a lot more except the armour that his Wiga wore was superior to all others and prevented fatalities – but not injuries. For the Healdend it was terrible – over five hundred bodies alone had been buried or cremated, and nearly three thousand had wounds. A thousand had injuries ranging from mild to severe. It had been a costly battle.
Of the deaths, a dozen Iladions had also died, and the next morning, as the sun rose, Conn stood with Derryth, Eolyn and Hallvi as they farewelled them all in a single funeral pyre.
Conn apologized to Eolyn. Eolyn shook his head in refusal. ‘There is no need – I expected that many more would die. I am happy that so few did. But it matters little, more would have been happy to die if necessary – it is what the Iladions have always done, fight alongside the Casere or his alternative, the Marquis of Kerch. It is said that of the first five hundred that rode at his side, only two hundred lived to make their home in Iladion.’
After breakfast, Beobald set out with his new Fyrd – he had over five hundred men able to ride, and they headed for town, and an eight day ride. Conn was going to leave two days later.
Around the battle field, they still had over three thousand Wiga under guard. The injured were going to Kapisi and they would be shipped to Pontiak in due course. Everyone who was not a permanent part of the fyrd was demobilized; told to pack up and go back to their villages and towns so by the time Conn departed for Pontiak he had a fyrd of five thousand – half of which were prisoners, and amongst them, the Ancuman, who had agreed to his terms.
The booty of the battle headed to Kapisi with Godhart and the wounded; his new appointment was as major of the Kapisi fyrd, and he was to take care of the town until Conn’s return which could be within weeks.
On the morning of tenth day they arrived on the outskirts of Pontiak; Beobald was there to greet him, and confirmed that the town was secure. There had been little resistance with the Healdend dead.
‘Have the ships been made ready?’
‘They have. Resupplying has been carefully monitored as you instructed.’
Conn looked to Derryth and he fired an arrow into the air to let Sir Njil know that he should make his way in and that ships would be on their way out and he shouldn’t sink them.
At the docks, the Ancuman were directed to leave the horses, collect any belongings left at the barracks, and board as soon as possible. As they arrived they could see dozens of ships already full with Ancuman; bedda and children and a few officials and wiga. Conn gave the order and they started to head out to sea.
It took some time but the last left port in good light. Conn was happy to see the end of them. Alhall il Nora were the last to board.
‘Marquis, I don’t know what my Bretwalda will think of these events – but I cannot guarantee that we will not meet each other again on the field of battle.’
Conn nodded. ‘I know – I have no expectation that you will not do your duty.’
He paused; he didn’t really know what to say. ‘Farewell; thank you for our lives.’
~oo0oo~
As they walked toward the centre of town, Conn had opportunity to speak to Beobald of the other battles.
‘And what news of Kashgar or Kyme?’
‘A boat arrived yesterday with a message from Eadhart. It is as you envisaged – Eadhart and his fyrd gained the support of the Eaorl of Kashi without a fight; the Eaorl of Kotan surrendered readily enough when confronted with the size of Eadhart’s Fyrd, and the arrival of the rightful Eaorl caused his clansmen to desert him so he had no one to fight with anyway. There was a more serious battle with the fyrd of Kyme and Kashgar but Eadhart ultimately prevailed – without killing too many of my kinsmen.
‘And the Aebeling of Sytha?’
‘Eadhart writes that he has taken his wiga home – all that remain are your Meshechian forces.’
‘Anything of Alana?’
Beobald shook his head. ‘I understand that she was in Kyme with Beortan, and was to return to Kotan. Are you concerned for her welfare?’
‘No, just curious.’
As they walked through the town, it was like many others that he had seen – the street muddy and rank with sewerage and waste. The houses were run down and the walls unkempt; the signs of fighting from the minor civil war were still evident.
Conn followed Beobald towards the Donjon. It was more substantial, and despite its state of disrepair, it was a significant building; the palisade walls were some of the largest he had seen, all made from stone.
Conn commented dryly as he passed through the gate. ‘It would seem that the Healdend was somewhat paranoid for his own safety.’ He then stumbled – crossing into the bailey brought him directly into contact with the Ancuman Gyden, and it was a powerful connection.
He shut her out before speaking. She knew he was there and she was attacking his mind again. Hallvi could see the concentration of his face and looked to Derryth. He signalled that he was okay. ‘There are Folgere still here…’
‘Folgere? No, we have searched everywhere. All the Ancuman were put on to ships.’
‘You missed some. Let’s go and flush the rats out of their hole.’
They all followed Conn through the bailey, through the stone donjon, and to an old doorway.
‘What is beyond here?’
Beobald didn’t know so they sent for servants. They were told that there was once a secondary bailey at the back. It was no longer used.’
‘I see.’ Conn searched around the door; it was locked with a ward lock; and a well-made one. Using a few instruments from his pouch it didn’t take Conn long to spring the lock and open the door. The courtyard outside was reasonably large and in the centre was a building. Conn had some idea what it once was but now it looked like an igloo made of rock and stone.
Everyone looked at it in amazement.
‘What is it?’ Beobald asked.
‘It is a Cirice – but it shouldn’t look like that.’ The drumming in his head was relentless as the Gyden tried to break down his defences. ‘You might not want to walk into the courtyard. The ward-stone is very powerful.’
Conn looked at Derryth and nodded. He then walked towards the “igloo” until he was at the door. Another ward lock but this one he used his kunai on it to destroy it.
When he opened the door, the smell from inside poured out – it was full of pain, hate, terror, and fear, and Conn could hear men behind him throwing up despite being yards away.
Conn walked in the building; his two swords in hand because he knew there were four Folgere in the room. Inside, the roof was open and in the centre of the room was an idol; most likely Tabiti, but she had been covered in black blankets, and around her neck was a ward-stone on a necklace. Around the room were paintings that he assumed depicted Ashtoreth cavorting with her Folgere. They were pornographic.
Conn was very broad minded, but this even disturbed him as in these paintings, Ashtoreth had male genitalia as well as large breasts.
As he went walked toward the idol, six men with swords appeared from behind the idol, dressed in black robes. One addressed Conn angrily. ‘How dare you come to Ashtoreth uninvited? Leave immediately or you will die.’