Wystan nodded. ‘I hoped as much.’
They were returning to camp after inspecting and selecting the cattle Conn wanted to buy. Mungan inspected Conn’s troop. ‘Your wiga certainly look strong enough – your horses are huge and your armour is excellent.’ He then looked at Derryth and Balios. ‘And you have Twacuman and Elfina riding with you. It sounds a lot like the famous Battle of The Plains.’
‘I am not familiar with that battle…’
Mungan paused to reflect, as he directed his visitors around the campfire.
‘The “Battle of The Plains” was the battle that saw the Ancuman vanquished and banished from Sytha. It was also the battle where on the night before a Gyden was supposedly seen walking amongst the horses, and as she touched each animal, they went half white and the Elfina were created. Ridden by the Twacuman, and led by the mighty Casere, a force of ten thousand Ancuman and their allies were defeated by a force a third its size. History said that that battle was won because of the Elfina. They did what no normal horse would do.’
‘You seem to know a lot.’
He agreed. ‘I am one of few that know that story here in Samria. My grandfather told me because he had a tutor from Meria. Meria was the home of the Casere. We didn’t arrive here until some hundred years after the event.’
It took two days to organize their purchases and start the journey home. Mungan was also getting ready to depart – he had to report to his Healdend with his wiga – he was just taking his time. Getting back was also easier as Mungan’s riders helped them steer the huge herd of cattle up the mountain and through the tiny valley that had been cleared for their passage. As they watched the last one scamper through the opening and follow the herd down into Subari, Mungan mused at the pathway.
‘No wonder we never found it. I’m amazed that you did.’ It was amazing; it was like an S bend dividing two mountains, less than ten yards wide. Cleared of trees, it was a viable passage.
‘My mother always said that luck often rides alongside of need. Farewell, Mungan, Frithlyn. Hope that we meet again in happier times.’
Conn watched the siblings pass meaningful glances and as he turned his horse to follow the cows, Mungan spoke.
‘Marquis… before you leave. I have a request.’
Conn turned back. ‘Of course. Whatever is in my power...’
‘Can I ask that you take Frithlyn with you?’
Conn didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course. If you feel that she will be safer with us than with you…’
‘I do. Somehow I think that you will be more than a match for the Ancuman. I will explain her absence by saying that she was kidnapped when you stole the cattle. Her reputation will be ruined because it will be expected – even if it is not true – that ruffians and rebels such as yourselves’, he smiled, ‘have no respect for a woman’s virtue and her reputation. If peace does return, I expect that she will survive that – with the right connections.’
‘Again, we will do what we can. Frithlyn, you are most welcome to join our small band of ruffians and vagabonds. We will try to ensure that your reputation is totally sullied.’
With a broad smile the young woman rode forward and followed Wystan down the hill. Conn and Derryth brought up the rear, finally farewelling the Marquis.
Derryth looked back as Mungan disappeared. ‘Unusual, a brother happy that’s his sister’s reputation will be ruined.’
‘Rather her reputation than her happiness. That is not something you see every day in these parts.’
~oo0oo~
As soon as they got to the plains, more herdsmen waited, and the heifers were directed into the paddocks that had been specially built for them, and where the bulls that Conn had brought from Meshech awaited them. The bullocks were directed up towards the mountains to feed his fyrd.
Leaving the livestock behind, Conn led his troop up the mountain. The snow was clearing quickly, and with no time to take her to Subari, Frithlyn accompanied them, happily. After several days they caught up to the tail end of his fyrd. It was logistics, with over fifty carts taking up supplies.
Frithlyn was confused, ‘but if this is just your support wiga, how big is your fyrd?’
‘Almost two thousand.’ Not near enough for the probable ten thousand men on the other side, but he had the surprise. He hoped it was enough. He also had position. From then on, there was a steady flow of traffic until they arrived in the main camp.
Even up here, the snow melt was almost complete, and all that remained in front of them was several snow drifts. The path through the mountains was almost clear.
Soon after arrival, they were escorted up to a vantage point to inspect the valley and the impending battlefield. Conn asked Brys what he had in mind, and he explained his preparation.
It was an unusual battlefield. The Ancuman had to march steadily uphill through a valley. They would then march through the gap in the mountains – some hundred yards wide. If they passed that, they would enter another wider valley that snaked its way down to the ocean.
The defensive force had the advantage here; they held the higher ground and the towers and walls that covered the pass. Better positioned and protected, it was why Efilda’s rebellion still survived; it was easier to defend than attack the pass, and any successful attack would come at a huge cost.
If the attacker had sufficient numbers, and was prepared to suffer significant losses, it was possible to wear out the defenders by draining them of arrows. You needed willing men and a strong will, and it seemed that Dagrun now had both. Mungan had indicated that a lot of Ancuman wiga had arrived in Samria over the last few weeks, with horses. Conn understood the Ancuman thinking; bring in troops to help squash the rebellion. After the rebellion of course, all bets were off. In a year’s time, Dagrun would be dead, and Samria would find itself totally controlled by Axum, and all the inhabitants would soon become theow.
Conn congratulated him on his work. They could see both encampments, and Brys and Conn inspected the Ancuman camp with telescopes
Brys stopped looking first. ‘They are ready – there are no more on the trail below. They had oxen towing carts up the valley for days. Everyone must be here. You have arrived just in time.’
Conn continued to study the camp layout. He could see several hundred buckskin cavalry horses in stalls.
‘Have you counted the buckskins?’
‘We have tried. Over four hundred.’
Conn nodded as he studied. ‘They have catapults. I was wondering how they thought they will get through the walls.’
Across the gap in the mountain were two old gatehouses; formally an inn to rest in on your journey each way, having climbed the valley. Reinforced with huge rocks, they provided a physical defensive line that, combined with the guards houses built into the hills, meant that going through uninvited was not advisable
‘I thought the plan was to let him through.’ Derryth added curiously.
‘It is – but we need him to think that it is all his own work. And if the catapults are too effective, it might just be. What I’d give for open ground and more cavalry. We have to do the best with what we have, I guess, but we will need to eliminate the catapults.’
Conn looked back at Brys. ‘Have you heard of the testudo formation used by men-at-arms?’
‘No.’
Conn explained.
‘Didn’t your fyrd use that in Rakiak? On the attack of the castle?’
‘They did. And the Ancuman will know how to use it. Even with the catapults, it is the only way they can get enough men to the gates. I’d like to make some modifications to your plans so that the testudo doesn’t work too well.’
Derryth took in his surrounds, and had a separate question. ‘Why haven’t they tried to climb up the other side? We have the advantage up here.’
Wystan agreed. ‘They have – but it is slow and very dangerous. We have bowmen up here to lessen their enthusiasm for trying.’
As soon as they reached the valley floor, two dozen men were delegated to carry two of the lighter catapults up to the top of the mountain. The crews should have fun targeting the catapults down the mountain, and there was sufficient “ammo” on the mountain to cause havoc. Several companies of bowmen were also moved. Other than that they just waited. Conn really hated waiting.
They actually had to wait twenty days before the message was passed around to the Captains of each company by a drummer and a lone bagpiper. The sounds echoed through the mountains, and its import was clear.
Prepare your men; the Merians are attacking.
Derryth stood and listened quietly to the echoing sounds. ‘I still don’t get how you enjoy the bagpipe thing, and even call it music. Hideous.’
Conn laughed. They were running up the hill to a small stone donjon cut into the mountain side with a commanding view over the stony pass. The music had stopped by the time they arrived and was replaced by eerie silence, soon replaced by the sound of marching men and the whistle of Ancuman catapults.
As expected the Ancuman were aiming their mangonel at the stone towers and the wooden gates that protected the pass. They were empty – though you wouldn’t know that from looking because they had only been vacated overnight. It took a while for the catapults to find their mark but eventually they did so and the boulders started to hit the walls and gatehouse – and as planned smoke immediately billowed from the rubble piled up behind the walls; carefully prepared with green bush and oils to create as much smoke as possible. With luck, and it seemed to be following him, the winds would direct the smoke towards the invaders – providing a small amount of discomfort as well as cover for Conn’s plans.
On a yell, wiga now streamed up the valley, in the testudo formation with shields held over their heads. Perhaps a thousand men, mostly Samrians, they appeared to be led by Ancuman Folctoga.
The archers that would have been in the towers and on the wall were now thirty yards in front of the walls, stationed in the new trenches dug as the snow melted. It had been hard work. Conn fired a flare into the air. As soon as it exploded, a swarm of arrows exploded from the top of the mountains down to the shields being carried by the wiga. Raised higher to protect themselves, they didn’t see the arrows in the second wave; from the bowmen in the trenches, aimed at their legs.
It was not easy to aim low from a low position and it was not without problems – but it did have the desired effect on the charging wiga. Not expecting the second wave, they inadvertently lowered their shields to defend their legs, and the stream of arrows from the sky started to impact. The first wave of men was thus halted in their tracks, and surrounded by wounded or dying men. The second wave were more cautious; they now protected both top and bottom and marched slower.
Conn then let his mangonel loose by firing another flare. Until now silent, his two catapults started firing. He wondered if Agkell had told Dagrun that his enemies had catapults – he doubted it. He wasn’t military and he spent most of the battle hiding. It would have come as a shock probably. One was aimed at the Ancuman mangonel, while the other at the marching testudo. The slow marching fyrd was a much easier target. Men scattered as the rocks rained down on them; and without cover, the arrows found their mark.
Their job done, the bowmen in the trenches quickly retreated up the tunnels, behind the wall and down into the valley; the smoke from the burning rubble providing cover. By the time the Samrians arrived at the wall, they found it deserted. They stopped advancing; and hid under the cover of their shields, while being peppered by Conn’s bowmen on the hills.
As they rapidly descended down the hillside slope to re-join the small forces of a hundred Cataphracts, Conn and Derryth heard a trumpeter announce the success of the Samrian advance, and they then heard the sound of what turned out to be five hundred cavalry galloping up the slope at top speed.
Conn had organized that the lighter Samrian ponies be trained as Sagittari, and led by Brys and Wystan, they waited hidden, to follow the Cataphracts into battle.
The Ancuman cavalry, all lancers, streamed through the pass and into Subari. They didn’t pause as they continued their charge down the valley. Their target appeared to be the settlement and they clearly intended to destroy it. Unfortunately for them, it had been moved, and as they headed down in a gallop, it was too late when they realized that instead of the village they expected, they were heading headlong into a pike wall of over five hundred men.
These were Conn’s classically inspired Tercio military units, pikemen with long bamboo and hardwood pikes with long yari type blades at the end, supported by bowmen equipped with bamboo yumi or longbows. They wore a long padded gambeson under their tabard, and a lacquered jingasa to protect them from the sun as much as anything. Their tabard wore the half gold sun symbol of Conn’s. The bowmen were similarly attired, except for the short sleeved gambeson, long silk undershirt and leather and metal vambraces. For functionality in the hot weather they all wore three quarter pants and leggings and a military sandal based on the heavy soled and hobnailed Roman caligae as footwear.
The Ancuman lancers, finding that the twenty five foot pikes were more than a match for their lances, tried immediately to take evasive action by unceremoniously screaming to a halt, not something easy to do with 500 horses at the gallop. In the melee and confusion caused by the clashing of horses and wiga falling off and getting trampled, Conn’s bowmen started firing; their arrows finding targets amongst the disorder, firing over the top of the crouched pikemen.
Not being able to go through, the Lancers tried to avoid pikes by turning east, up an incline. Before they had a chance, their advance was truncated by the sudden arrival at a gallop of Conn and his hundred Cataphracts. Although outnumbered five to one, the Cataphracts easily cut a swathe through the Ancuman cavalry who were in no real position to properly defend themselves against Conn’s larger and heavily armoured Cataphracts on one side and a pike wall on another. The first two hundred riders died quickly; those that could turn around, tried to escape west ahead of Conn’s charge but ran into the Sagittari. More men fell from horses.
The only ones able to escape, less than a hundred riders, turned north and went back the way they came; up the hill and back through the pass. They caused further chaos by coming directly into contact with their own troops; now trying to make their way down the valley in support.
It was not a good day for the Ancuman lancers.
Leaving the bowmen to gather the wounded, Conn went after the Ancuman; followed by the pikemen. Ten minutes later he arrived in sight of the gates and in full view of the Samrian fyrd now in disarray, with the cavalry having created discord by forcing their way through.
It took twenty minutes for Conn’s riders to be clearly visible to the waiting Samrian fyrd and its wiga still under their shields. Conn’s wiga reformed into a formidable line; the Cataphracts at the front supported by two companies of Sagittari; the horses snorting and stomping as they waited, and with the arrival of four companies of pikemen, they formed two columns, one on either side of the cavalry. Just over a thousand men, the uniformity of uniform from helmet to tabard over armour, made them seem larger in number then reality. The Cataphracts, resplendent in the head, neck and chest padded armour, were the first horses they had ever seen so presented and being bigger than any horse they had ever seen, they may well have looked like monsters.
Everyone in place, the drummers started a different tune, and Conn’s Cataphracts commenced its charge on the visible dispirited Samrian fyrd, with the Sagittari in close support.
The retreat of their own cavalry, and the sight of the large horses and their lances caused the Samrian fyrd, who had no desire at all to be there, to fold; they scattered, dropping their weapons and running to the side and creating a pathway for Conn and his riders to make their way through the gates and down into the camp of the Samrian Healdend. None of those on the pass put up any resistance, and the Sagittari were instructed to only target Ancuman wiga because they were unlikely to surrender. By the time the pikemen arrived, the Samrian fyrd was devoid of Ancuman officers, and just surrendered.
The Cataphracts continued their path down the hill into the camp at pace, and direct to the Healdend’s tent. Here there was still resistance, though elsewhere, with the arrival of Conn’s wiga, many took the cause to be lost, and lay down their arms. Certainly the Samrians did.
Ancuman wiga rushed to circle the tent to defend its inhabitants and a dismounted Conn was sorry but willing to have to provide the end they seemed to desire. The men that rushed to attack him met with the fury of his hands if they were Samrian and his sword if they were Ancuman. After ten minutes and a pile of bodies behind him Conn and Derryth burst into the main tent. Inside a dozen Ancuman wiga, both male and female, stood surrounding a young man; most probably Dagrun, Healdend of Samria.
Conn stopped and sheathed his sword as a dozen of his bowmen entered the tent and aimed their arrows at the wiga. Conn bowed politely.
‘Dagrun, former Healdend of Samria. Your sister, and the new Wealdend, send her regards. You are of course surrounded. Do you all wish to die or do you wish to surrender?’
A Folctoga, his sword drawn, snarled. ‘I say we die, Ancuman never surr…’
‘Wait, wait, wait… let’s not be so rash. Never is such a strong word.’ Another Ancuman pushed his way to the front. He was better dressed than the wiga, and he wasn’t wearing armour. ‘I’m sure we can negotiate.’ He bowed slightly to Conn. ‘Hello Eaorl; it is not a pleasure to see you again.’
Conn couldn’t suppress his surprise. He laughed. ‘Geirnarr! What are you doing here? I expected that you would be back in Kishdah.’
The Folctoga responded as well. ‘Aebeling, you know this man?’
While Geirnarr nodded, Conn continued. ‘And you misled me, Geirnarr. You failed to mention that you were an Aebeling in Axum when you were my prisoner. I was under the impression that you were nothing but a lowly merchant. Tell me, did you make any money from the cargo of timber?
Everyone looked at Geirnarr as he nodded. ‘I was amazed to find that the cargo was very well received. As for this unhappy situation, I must say that I was not informed that he who vanquished the Rakians in Meshech was NOW in Samria. I expected that you were still in Rakia or somewhere else. Anywhere is my preference. Agkell will not be happy when we have a chat later…’ He turned and looked at his wiga. ‘Put your swords down.’ He used a tone that gave the impression that his word was law.
The Folctoga didn’t take the order well. ‘But Aebeling, we…’ He stopped talking when Geirnarr backhanded him across the face. He staggered back. His eyes were furious and he was fifty percent bigger than Geirnarr but he did nothing.
Geirnarr repeated himself. ‘I SAID, put your swords down. The feorrancund has a major character flaw. You can trust his word.’
He watched them as they all lowered and sheathed the swords. Conn ordered the bowmen to lower the bows. Geirnarr looked back.
‘What do you want to let us all go?’
Conn knew the answer. ‘The Healdend – his demesne obviously – all Ancuman gone from Samria – nothing but essentials – no gold or horses. I want the horses. I’m a bit short.’
The Folctoga went to speak again but stopped when Geirnarr looked at him. It didn’t stop Dagrun from speaking however. He pushed forward.
‘Cousin – you cannot agree to that! You can’t hand me over to these feorrancund – what will happen to me.’
Geirnarr looked at him in veiled disgust. ‘You’re an idiot. An imbecilic arrogant little fool – I don’t mind what he does with you.’ He looked back at Conn, nodding. ‘I’ll agree to your terms. You are welcome to the simpleton.’
Dagrun went to speak again but Geirnarr backhanded him as well. He fell to the floor, blood streaming from his nose. Conn directed two of his wiga to go and collect him.
Geirnarr looked curious as they dragged the screaming Healdend out of the tent. ‘Out of curiosity, what are you going to do with him?’
‘Give him to his sister. She’ll want a quiet word over the death of her bedda and child…’
The Ancuman Aebeling opening his palms to show a modest level of contrition. ‘None of my doing…’
‘Somehow, I believe you…’
~oo0oo~
Leaving the Ancuman behind in the tent, Conn walked outside. The fighting had ended. Conn’s Cataphracts and Sagittari stood guard over at least 3000 men as they sat in groups on the ground. Conn walked to a high point and with Derryth at his side, he addressed the crowd.
‘Wiga of Samria; your war is over, the battle is lost. The reign of Dagrun, Healdend, has ended, and will be replaced by his sister Efilda as Wealdend. I’m sure she weeps for every one of you that died today. So that no more lives are lost, I would like to see any Folctoga up here in this tent immediately, and I’d like the rest of you to return to your tents. We will see to your wounds as soon as we can.’
Conn returned inside and waited. The Ancuman wiga were taken away and put under guard.
Soon a dozen men, all nobles, arrived inside the tent. They bowed. One stepped forward; the elder of the party. He was well dressed, in his mid-forties. Round face, and the dark brown hair and light brown eyes that typified the Samrians.
‘I am Besywan, Marquis of Sumy. I am commander of the Samrian Fyrd.’
As Besywan spoke, they were joined by Brys and Wystan. Derryth also returned to the tent, causing confusion amongst the Samrians. The last one to arrive was Mungan, Marquis of Sarepeta. They were further confused when Mungan shook Conn’s hand in greeting.