The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (32 page)

It had taken three precious days to move his warriors and their encampment here, and now they were arriving to find this. Standing proudly upon a coastal hill with the deep grey of the ocean behind it, Dimilioc fortress comprised of five separate earthwork rings that circled a white central fortress, the stockade mud daubed till hardened and painted with lime and water so that it shone in the pale winter sunlight. To reach and attack the fortress, his warriors would need to break through these five separate levels. They would first have to enter the low ditches and then clamber up the steep, slippery earthen banks opposite while the Dumnonii warriors who would be defending the higher ground with hurled rocks, spears and abuse down at them. Fighting their way to the crest of each earthwork they would reach the Dumnonii shield wall and the defending warriors would begin stabbing down with their long, leaf-shaped spears through the seemingly impenetrable wall of shields that defended them against any slinger stones and spears that Uther's warriors might use to try to break them. If his warriors did finally reach the summit of the first ring and it was successfully taken, leaving behind the dead and the cries of the dying behind them, it would only be to see that the defenders had withdrawn to the next defensive mound. Once again they would be taunting the attackers to come and die, welcoming them to enter the Shadowland upon the end of their spears as they defended the higher ground once again. And all of this would have to be accomplished five times if the attackers wished to reach the gleaming white plastered palisade of the fortress itself. It was an all but impossible task that called for the death of thousands if the fortress was ever to be taken.

Uther glanced about at his forces as they assembled around him. Warriors were emerging from the trees, gathering to gain their first glimpse of the challenge ahead. He saw their looks of wonder and resignation. Watching them, he thought of the number of warriors he would need to sacrifice if he were ever to take this monstrosity of a fortress and then saw his frustration and concerns mirrored in the face of Sir Ector.

'I do not relish the task of assaulting those banks,' muttered Sir Ector as he removed his helm and scanned the earthworks of Dimilioc. 'I have faced many a shield wall and stared into the face of countless warriors as they tried to kill me, but many will die here if our actions are not calculated correctly. This is an impressive defence our friend Gerlois has created. Anyone would think him a little paranoid.

Lines of Dumnonii warriors began to form upon the first earthen bank. Each was wearing some mixture of yellow and red, the tribal colours of the Dumnonii. As their shields began to come together to make the first stage of their shield wall, he saw the shields were painted with the same bright colours. They began to bang spears, axes and swords against their shields calling their taunts and challenges to the attackers as they arrived and formed around Uther.

'We cannot attack them unless they force us to do so,' muttered Uther. 'It would be a foolhardy act to spend so many lives here, warriors that need to face the Saxons in just a few turns of the moon if we are to regain our land. We will not lose the struggle for our Kingdom here. Where is Merlyn?' Uther glanced around looking for the familiar figure, but could not see him.

'The Druid sent word that he will be delayed, he said he would join us in two days,' said Sir Ector avoiding Uther's gaze.

Uther shook his head in frustration at the Druid's absence and gave orders to make shelters and to set guards. 'We do not allow any of them to leave, that much we can accomplish. They have the sea at their backs and few routes to escape by; we won't be letting the Duc slip past us again. I want chariots patrolling the battle line night and day.'

The first challenges began a short while later with another Briganti warrior striding out from Uther's lines to shriek a challenge up to the Dumnonii as they strutted upon their earthen wall. For a while, the roar of insults flew from both sides until a female warrior from the Dumnonii ran down the embankment and declared that she accepted the Briganti's challenge. She carried a small, rounded shield and a short spear that she spun in a dancing blur with expert ease while she grinned at her opponent. The watchers from both sides roared their approval as the two warriors circled, the female quickly showing she was the faster of the two. She skipped around her foe, easily avoiding his spear thrusts, deflecting them with her shield for a while without making any effort to strike him with her own weapon.

'Take his manhood, Liset. Geld him and make him squeal like the Highland pig that he is!'

'Send this woman back to make babies. Teach her some respect, Aris.'

The two fighters continued circling, stabbing and thrusting as their comrades' screamed support and derision in equal amounts until the woman was nearly toppled as the Briganti rushed in on her and stabbed. She staggered back turning his spear with her shield just in time, but then he dropped, turned a full circle and swept his spear around in a swishing arc that took the female warrior's feet from under her. She saw it and almost timed her jump in time, but the spear just caught the heel of her left foot making her cry out in pain. The Briganti sprang up, a grin of triumph on his face, and stabbed, but she hopped to the side and brought her shield down upon his head with a crack that could be heard above all the noise and sent him stumbling away, she limped backwards wincing in pain. He rolled, regained his feet and when he saw that she was not rushing in to finish him, he reached up to feel the blood streaming down the side of his face. He nodded his appreciation of her fighting skill; she nodded in return and they separated, returning to their own lines amid a chorus of calls both of support and condemnation for ending the fight so soon. Others took their place and there were soon three separate trials of combat taking place between the two opposing forces.

Uther knew this posturing and testing of each other's strengths would continue for some time until the two sides either calmed and separated to their two positions or enough adrenaline was built so that shield walls were formed and the battle was fought by all.

'Bring me a guide, someone who knows the area. I am going see where Tintagel is upon this coastline, and also, try and find Merlyn. If he returns, send him after me.' Sir Ector nodded and Uther walked back into the trees leaving the warriors to their trials.

'This way, Sire,' Maude's whisper tickled Uther's ear. She pulled at his shoulder, trying to get him to rise, but it wasn't easy. They had been squatting down listening to the fading Saxon voices for only a few moments, but it had been enough for his joints to stiffen and his consciousness to retreat into a softer warmer part of his mind, and he was having a little trouble.

'Stand, Lord…. please… we must flee this place or we will both surely die here tonight.' She tugged at him and he managed to push himself up, forcing his legs to respond. His head swam, the world swirled around him and he leant against the wall for support, but she quickly gathered him to her and he felt himself being hurried along the passage once more. At one point she left him and he stood swaying against a pillar wondering what he was doing out of bed, and then he remembered the Saxons and his mind sharpened. Wiping a hand across his brow, he tried to peer through the darkness, to see where Maude had gone. He could hear movement, but then there was movement, rustling and squeaking coming from all around, in the rushes underfoot, and also above him, either, in rooms or possibly the roof thatch, he had no idea. And then she loomed in front of him, and supporting him with a strong arm, swept him along through the Abbey once more.

At an outside door, they rested, while she left him to see if anyone was watching for them. The cold night air teased as he looked out, sending a chill through him as he gazed out and up into a star-filled night sky. A white full moon floated just above the roofline opposite. He drew in a deep breath, smelling wet earth and the musky aroma of horses. Beginning to feel a little more alive, he dared take a step forward to see a little more of where they had emerged. It was indeed in the Abbey's courtyard; several puddles shone silver in the moonlight and water was dripping from the thatch in several places adding music to Uther's waking experience. He took another step, releasing his hold upon the doorframe and gazed up at the stars once more, and then Maude was with him again, moving him across into the shadows.

'There are Saxons in front of the Abbey, Lord, a small band of them… we must hurry.'

They entered a covered area for horses and Uther was left while Maude unlatched a doorway set in the opposite wall, two horses stared at them as they passed and snorted softly. He saw her silhouette as she peeked outside, and then she was pulling him out and pushing the door closed behind them. A dog barked, far off in the distance, and then he heard a cockerel cry a little closer, a little premature in its greeting of the dawn.

'To the forest, we have to make it unseen to the trees, Sire, can you do it? Please, lean on me, it will soon be over and you can rest, but we must make it to the forest before we stop.'

They strode through grass that was thick and wet but lying low, mostly dead and beaten down by the rain. It still soaked his leggings, the wetness making its way to the skin of his feet and ankles, chilling them quickly. Maude was pulling him along, glancing back from time to time at the Abbey, he could feel her doing it. He half expected a cry to come or the galloping of hooves to fill the night, but none did. After some effort and a little time, they were entering the trees of the forest and Maude allowed him firstly to slow and then to drop down beside a heavy tree trunk to gather his strength.

'Here…' He felt a flask offered to his lips and then the sweet fire of mead was washing into his mouth. He coughed, spilling some, but then drank again feeling the spirit fill him, giving him more clarity and the energy to look up at Maude; she was just a shadow in the darkness.

'Thank you, Maude. I think that tonight, you have saved the life of your King, I hope that soon I can reward you properly, but for now, you have my utmost thanks and gratitude.'

 Chapter 24 
The Druid's Pact

Merlyn pushed his fingers through the slick, wet entrails of the young goat that, until recently, had been suckling at its mother's teat. The Druids had disturbed the sleep of its peasant owner by banging noisily upon his hut and paid for the animal with a small sack of grain and a blessing upon his family. These were received as if they were gifts of gold and silver; he had also been told that they would return the body of the goat to feed his family when they had finished, altogether not a bad reason to be dragged from your dreams in the middle of the night.

They walked some distance from the peasant's hut, placed the struggling animal upon a rock and the three Druids had gathered around to see what knowledge its death might bring. Merlyn had slit the goat's throat with a swift practised movement using a small curved blade, and they watched with interest as the struggling carcase had twitched the final shreds of its brief life away. Merlyn's blade had then cut the soft skin of its belly and allowed the contents to ooze out, glistening and grey in the cold moonlight. The steaming organs were separated and examined, tubes and veins prodded, the heart, liver, and kidneys studied before they, in turn, were cut and dissected. Unaffected by the smell or the cold within which they worked, the Druids chanted and called upon the spirits to guide them and show them the different paths that may lie ahead. However, it was only when the last of the entrails were scooped from the belly of the beast, that they finally found what they had been searching for. The chanting ceased abruptly, and the Druids pointed, exclaiming excitedly about something within the little body now stiffening in the cold grip of death. The spirits had spoken, a sign given, a path laid bare to be followed, the King must now be found.

Uther felt a surge of exultation as he released the strain on his horse's reins and gave them their head. The chariot leapt, the hazel and yew construction creaked and groaned as they splashed through ice-encrusted puddles and thundered down the narrow path, forcing both his companion and himself to duck beneath overhanging branches and burst through clouds of dislodged snow. Ahead of him, the horses' tails were up, their heads rising and falling, the muscles along their huge bodies writhing as they were allowed their freedom, hooves drumming hollowly on the frozen earth.

He was aware that behind him, the two chariots that followed would be having difficulty keeping their King in sight and it would be troubling them greatly. In fact, he could hear concerned shouting as they called for him to slow, but Uther was feeling as free and as released as the horses after so many days of marching and the confinement of the camp. His worries and frustrations were falling behind along with the mad rush of the chariot; it was good to be away, and he wasn't about to stop.

They burst from the trees into an open, rolling, snow-covered hilltop, the fall of the cliffs a safe fifty paces or so to their left side with the white-capped waves of the sea visible beyond beneath a cloudy, grey sky. To their right, the forest continued, dark, dense and endless. Pulling back on the reins, Uther managed to slow the horses to a canter and looked back in time to see the first of the chasing chariots emerge from the trees, its occupants waving to him; he slowed further.

'That was a good run.' He grinned round at his companion, an Iceni, who would have been the regular charioteer before Uther had usurped his place. The man was holding on to the sides, his face as white as the snow around them.

'Yes, Lord. You set a brisk pace to be sure.' He stood, pried his grip from the side rail, and tried to relax and then returned Uther's grin. 'You are a fine charioteer, Sire.'

'I learned from one of the best a long time ago. Here come the others.' Uther waved to the other chariots as they approached and then flicked the reins and the horses picked up their pace again to canter along the clifftop path. There was a chill wind blowing in from the sea, and below them, as the path neared the ragged cliffs' edges, they could hear the booming crash of the waves. It was cold, but it just made Uther feel so alive and at one with the world around him. He laughed out loud and cracked the reins down onto the horses once more to bring them back up into a run.

It was past midday when they sighted the three Druids. They were standing some way from the path, on the very edge of the cliff facing the gusting wind, gazing out past the turbulent waters that crashed far below them. They didn't move when the chariots came to a halt some twenty paces behind them. Uther jumped down and walked over.

'Merlyn… is that you? I sent out riders to find you but…' Uther stopped as, without turning around, one of the Druids held up a hand and then beckoned Uther forward with a gesture of his fingers. Uther ambled over feeling somewhat like a naughty boy about to be chastised. He stood to their side and tried to look into the Druid's hoods to confirm that it was indeed Merlyn, it was. He could see the Druid's nose, and the familiar grey whiskers were being blown all about his face while the hood held gamely on. Merlyn's eyes were closed. Uther got closer and raised his voice over the sound of the wind.

'Where have you been? I was waiting for you, and they told me you had…' He stopped speaking as Merlyn raised his hand again. As he slowly lowered it, the gusting wind dropped to a soft breeze, and the three Druids opened their eyes. Merlyn turned to Uther and smiled.

'Uther, there is no need to shout. You're late; we have been waiting here since just after daybreak. Did you get lost?'

'Lock shields.' The cry carried over the screaming and chanting of warriors awaiting their release and on both sides of the lines, the call was repeated. The front rank of warriors crouched and locked their shields so they overlapped, low to the ground, to protect the legs of those within the front line of the wall while the men and women behind, brought their shields forward, over the top of the first to form a high, strong and very solid wall. The third row of warriors leant forward to add their shields to the upper part of the wall which would protect from arrows and stones. An almost identical wall was being formed amongst the Cornovii ranks, they moved forward to the beat of drums, and the two bristling walls came slowly, almost hesitantly together.

Shouts and demands of help and encouragement rang along the lines of each to
'Keep the line!'
and
'Hold strong! Be ready for the bastards!'
Spears, swords, and axes were banged against shields, horns moaned and the whirring sounds of hundreds of slings being twirled filled the air like swarms of angry bees until the walls moved quickly over the final two paces to meet with an explosive boom that sent a shock through the frigid winter air.

Thousands of voices screamed in anger and determination as the two sides heaved and pushed against each other, cursing and insulting those just a short distance away behind the layers of shields. Time passed as the walls matched each other in strength, straining and shoving. Cries rang out from both sides as a crack was detected in the other's wall and a spear or sword was forced through to wound or kill. In a few places, the contest of strength was outmatched and, with little warning, the wall broke, and a flurry of fierce fighting would erupt. It was quick and bloody but was soon over as the wall on either side became whole again. Amongst the shouting, screaming and roaring, a sharp horn blast sounded to those who were waiting to hear it. It sent a new order down the line of the King's warriors to, 'ease… ease.' As one, the heaving, sweating warriors within the wall took a single step backwards, which to the Cornovii gave the appearance that they were beginning to push the invaders back into the forest and their voices raised even higher 'Kill them all. Push, push!
Kill, Kill, Kill!!
' Another and then another step was won, and the excitement of the Cornovii became ecstatic. Wiser, older voices with their ranks called for caution, to
'Hold the wall,'
and
'Stand fast.'
But the Cornovii warriors, less accustomed to the ways of battle, their tribal lands being so far from the Saxon borders, already felt they were winning, and so their wall of shields began to dismantle so that the warriors could hack and pull at their enemies shields. As this happened, the lower half of the invaders wall slipped open to allow spears and swords to flash out, cutting and wounding the now exposed legs of the Cornovii until it was their lines that were faltering and the order being bellowed along the invaders line was to advance, all the while keeping their wall solid and impenetrable, practised and perfected so many times against the Saxons, taught to them so long ago by Ambrosius and his Roman trained warriors.

The Cornovii were in disarray. Their leaders ran along the line, calling for the shield wall to reform, but there was little chance or respite from the steady advance of the better-seasoned warriors within the attacker's ranks. The Cornovii turned and retreated up the first of their mud banks, quickly followed by Sir Ector as he led his men up the earthen embankment and then managed to continue on, chasing the fleeing Cornovii. They pushed them on, and then from the second earth bank as well before they were able to reform until the third bank, where they met to form a solid wall of defence once more.

'
Shield wall, shield wall.
' The two groups gazed at each other across the short divide while stones, spears and arrows rained down upon both.

Sir Ector stood panting, his chest heaving at the effort of the battle and laughed. 'We have done well. We have won two of their lines of defence with few losses to our side. He looked across at the Cornovii wall that had formed up on the opposite bank just some thirty paces away, then raised his shield, deflecting a slinger's stone that hit with a solid
'thwack!'

'We have taught them a lesson in battle and we will not gain the third embankment so easily, but nor will we lose this, our new line.' He turned to the warrior next to him. 'Keep the line, rest any that need it in the front ranks and move the wounded back, we move forward and will attack again shortly. If Uther were here he would be satisfied, for now, we have given Gerlois and his Cornovii much to contemplate.'

You say things like that just to annoy me, don't you, old man? I can't be late for something that was never planned; we were looking for you and now we have found you.' Uther grinned at Merlyn and saw that the old Druid, staring back out from the folds of his hood, was attempting to keep his own smile from showing.