Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) (10 page)

BOOK: Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain)
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All looked at Simon who sat propped on an elbow looking mystified.

‘What do you know of this?’ asked Withred. ‘The woman was never far from your side. You must have heard the struggle.’

Simon shook his head and held up his bound hands to emphasise his bewilderment. ‘I know nothing. I slept soundly last night after yesterday’s chores and woke only when I heard your commotion. As God is my witness, I know nothing.’

Withred looked towards the trees, chewing his lip as he considered what to do next. Part of him was glad the woman was gone but he now feared for Simon who would undoubtedly suffer from Egbert’s wrath when he returned. He realised he would have to employ all of his guile to prevent Egbert’s wanton cruelty towards him.

‘I should have posted guards,’ he muttered. He looked at the men. ‘Egbert will be back soon, and he’ll flail you all now his woman’s gone. We must get her back. We must also be careful—the killer has to be a man of cunning and talent to finish Edwin without a struggle … maybe it was the wolf-man, he’s already shown how dangerous he is. Go in pairs and look for the woman but be careful. There’s a man in these woods who has already killed four of us.’

Deorwine left the clearing with a young Saxon named Leofric, his usual companion on the trail. Being the older man, Deorwine assumed responsibility of the search and was careful to instruct Leofric where to seek. Meanwhile he sat immobile on his pony as he scanned the undergrowth for movement.

Minutes passed with neither sound nor movement and Deorwine slowly became restless, his thoughts straying to the earlier deaths of his companions—Cerdic, Aelred and Eadmund—at the hands of the wolf-man.

‘Any luck Leofric?’ His shout was flat and nervous against the wall of thick greenery. Hearing no reply, he goaded his pony through the same bush that Leofric had pushed through. Seeing no one, he rode further into the woods, following Leofric’s trail. He stopped and called again. ‘Leofric, get back here now!’

Still there was no answer, so Deorwine continued to follow Leofric’s trail. He rounded a mound of bracken. He hitched his breath sharply as Leofric’s lifeless body confronted him. Lying prone under his grazing pony, Leofric’s left eye socket was empty and coagulating. The arrow which had caused the wound was gone.

‘Woden’s bollocks,’ whispered Deorwine. He dismounted and examined Leofric, then looked edgily around.

He was about to remount his pony when Murdoc’s spear entered his back. Its force knocked him to his knees, a desperate croak coming from him. He fell forward onto his face.

‘Murderer,’ growled Murdoc as he removed the spear. Again, he pierced Deorwine.

Dominic placed a restraining hand on Murdoc’s arm as he raised the spear a third time. ‘Save your strength Mur, he’s dead and before the sun sets we’ve to finish the others. We need to remain alert to every sound around us.’ He kicked Deorwine’s body. His dead face lolled to one side.

He spat on the corpse then pointed to a low shrub nearby. ‘We need to drag him and his companion out of site. The animals will feed on him now.’ Moments later, Dominic scrutinised the bushes. ‘Now to find the others; their trails should be easy to follow; they lumber like bears through the woods.’ He pointed to a shrub that appeared undisturbed to Murdoc. ‘See…two have passed through there.’ 

They followed a trail, visible only to Dominic, and continued for some time as it meandered through the forest. Ever mindful that four of the enemy were still abroad they took care not to blunder into open exposed clearings.

After a while Dominic stopped. ‘Listen,’ he breathed, ‘they’re just ahead and on foot. He whispered further instructions to Murdoc before ghosting forward.

Careful and tense, Murdoc followed towards the distant sound of a hurried debate. As they approached, Dominic turned and pointed to a six-foot wall of deep bracken. They slipped into the cover and waited.

Dominic nocked his first arrow as two men approached. So close did they pass, that he could almost touch their russet jerkins. He allowed them to continue a few strides, then nodded to Murdoc and walked from the cover.

The men walked away still unaware of their presence. Dominic addressed them. ‘Face me my friends so I may pierce your soft flesh.’

They turned, stunned into inactivity, as Dominic loosed his first arrow. It entered the throat of the nearest man with such force that only the feathers stopped it going through completely—the feathers left to protrude from his neck like a mocking adornment.

The other took flight and began to run down the trail. Murdoc watched his spear narrowly miss the man’s shoulder. Cursing and brandishing the ax he had removed from the corpse, he took up the chase, but the Saxon, fleet of foot, pulled away from him.

‘He can’t be allowed to tell the others!’ shouted Dominic who ran a short distance behind Murdoc. ‘If they know we’re after them things will be much harder!’

His bowstring sang as he released another arrow at the fleeing man. It missed and whispered harmlessly into the undergrowth. The man passed out of sight over the brow of a small banking. When Dominic and Murdoc reached its crest they saw he had stopped.

Having met two of his remaining companions, he was breathlessly relating events to them. Hoping to turn the tide, and without hesitation, they then ran screaming at Dominic and Murdoc—their war axes aloft.

Dominic had scant time to let one more arrow fly. This time it bit flesh and one man fell. He drew his sword as the others closed.

Murdoc armed himself with the dead man’s ax and prepared to engage in combat for the first time in his life. Though strong and athletic, a village life as a stockman had not prepared Murdoc for brutal combat with a seasoned warrior. The man who met him seemed formidable but having fought only unarmed peasants since arriving on the island his hack at Murdoc was lazy and ill timed. Murdoc avoided the slash with inches to spare. Snarling his frustration, the Saxon came at him again, this time with an overhead swipe. Murdoc again avoided the attack and the Saxon stumbled. His ax continued its arc to bury itself into the forest floor. Murdoc, seizing upon the man’s incapacity, swung his own ax in a hasty sideswipe. The parry landed with rib-cracking power. With a ‘whoeff’ the Saxon fell to his knees. Grimacing and holding his side, he looked up to Murdoc to behold his last mortal sight—the grey blur of cold iron falling upon him—this time splitting his face from eye ridge to chin.

Murdoc turned rapidly, adrenalin surging, ax raised, ready to fight. He saw Dominic in combat with a worthy adversary: a huge Saxon wearing a ring mail hauberk. Both men circled, gasping for breath after several inconclusive engagements. As Murdoc approached them, the Saxon stumbled over a bramble tendril. Though fleeting, the trip gave Dominic the split second he needed to lunge unopposed. After a brief resistance as it met the hauberk, his sword continued into the man’s vitals. Dominic complimented the breach with a lateral dagger thrust to the Saxon’s neck, killing him instantly.

Dominic, who had his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath, regarded Murdoc. ‘The next time we fight . . .  promise me you’ll take on . . . you’ll take on the giant.’

Panting himself, Murdoc’s smile was dour. ‘I think not Dom … the big game should be left to you … a child could better me now, let alone that giant … sweet Virgin Mary how this fighting tires a man.’

‘We’ve not done yet,’ said Dominic, straightening. ‘This Withred—the fiercest and truest warrior of them all according to Tomas—remains at the camp with Simon.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

Withred had waited anxiously all day for the men to return, his concern growing as late afternoon gave way to early evening.

Simon had spent his time tidying the camp and stacking firewood. He had cooked a rabbit over the open fire which Withred had shared with him. Indeed his captor had frequently told him to rest and had generally gone out of his way to make sure the old Briton had not overstretched himself.

Withred sucked on a rabbit bone as he sat beside the fire and looked into the forest. He glanced briefly towards Simon, then back at the forest. Fifty paces away stood the blood-smeared wolf-man. By his side was another.

He rolled to one side as Dominic’s arrow struck his sitting stone before skidding skywards. Withred knew he was exposed; knew the next arrow would take him down. Thinking rapidly, he ran to Simon and grabbed him as a shield. Simon’s neck felt a cold blade pressed against it. ‘I speak your language,’ Withred shouted, ‘so talk to me and keep away or the old man dies.’

Dominic sighted another arrow at Withred. He hesitated, unwilling to chance hitting Simon.

Murdoc shouted at Withred. ‘Let him go, Saxon. It’s no use. Your friends are dead.’

Withred was in a quandary. If he let go of Simon, the wolf man would kill him. But he could not stay holding Simon forever. Something had to give. He attempted a compromise. ‘I’ll release him if you swear to your Christ to spare my life. Ask this man who he owes
his
life to. I saved him and the woman much torment at the hands of the others.’

Dominic and Murdoc looked at Simon. After a brief pause, Simon nodded in affirmation.

‘Kill him,’ said Murdoc. ‘He doesn’t deserve our mercy. He must pay for invading our land. I for one will not swear to Christ to spare him.’

Dominic turned his attention back to Withred. ‘I don’t believe in the Christ, and my friend will not swear to him. Anyway, I already know what you’ve done for them—the woman told us much. But if I let you live I’m faced with two choices: to release you, whereby you’ll return with news of our position to your companions, or take you captive, and then I’ll forever be looking over my shoulder in fear of your treachery. It will be easier to send you to your pagan hell I think. You tell
me.
What would you do if faced with such a choice?’

‘I’ve no wish to ride with the raiding parties anymore and I can be useful if you allow me to accompany you, not as a captive but as an ally.’ You’ll have to face them sooner or later and my knowledge and skill in combat will aid your cause. Of that you have my word. So in answer to your question; I would increase my numbers if I were you and accept a fierce warrior into your party.’

Silence hung in the glade as Dominic considered Withred’s deal. He glanced at Murdoc, whose slight shake of the head advised,
Do not trust him
.

Dominic raised his bow again and aimed it at Withred’s head. ‘Release the old man then walk to the hut and get out of my sight until I decide what to do with you. That’s my decision. You’ve no other choice. Hesitate and I’ll kill you. Be sure of that.’

Withred kept hold of Simon a moment then let him go and pushed him away. He dropped his sword to the ground, held up his hands, and backed up towards the building. ‘See … I do as you ask.’

Murdoc looked to Dominic whose bow pointed at Withred at full tension. ‘We owe him nothing,’ he said. ‘Remember what these people have done to our families.’

Dominic looked thoughtful as he recalled how Tomas had reacted when speaking of Withred. ‘Yes, they’ve done many bad things since arriving on our isle … but maybe not this man. Keep with me on this, Mur, he could provide us with some much-needed help. Don’t forget we are only two men—three now with Simon—against many.’

‘As you will, but I’m not easy with it.’

Dominic lowered his aim and shouted at Withred. ‘Get inside the hut now before I change my mind, and be sure of this: one wrong move and I
will
kill you.’

Withred nodded his thanks, then turned and entered the hut.

Concerned, Murdoc approached Simon. ‘How are you, man?’ he asked. ‘Martha told us what you both went through, and you look completely worn out.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Simon. ‘Your news of Martha’s rescue has already lifted me. But what about you two. I never expected to be saved by fellow Britons this day.’

Dominic told Simon his own tale: of his life in the forest. Then he continued with his account of Martha’s liberation and the acquisition of Tomas. Murdoc then recounted the harrowing tale of the razing of his own village.

When they had finished, Simon embraced both men in thanks and consolation. He gave his own account, ending with the story of the raid. ‘Like you I was away from the huts when they struck ….’ He paused a moment, his emotions sending a subtle betrayal across his face. ‘Like you … I witnessed the slaughter, and don’t wish … don’t wish to see anything like it again. I could not do anything for them. I did not…’

Penetrated, Murdoc placed a consoling arm around Simon’s shoulder. ‘I know how you are feeling … believe me,’ he said. ‘I understand how you are being plagued right now.’

United in their grief, they were silent awhile before Murdoc continued. ‘Our first task is to stop the others returning to the east with news of new land to take. I guess we’ve little time to prepare for their return; they must have found other villages by now or failing that abandoned their search. We need to be ready for them even though they outnumber us.’

‘We’ll use cunning then,’ said Dominic. ‘Patience and cunning will reduce their numbers as before.’

 

By late evening the group were together at the camp. Simon and Martha had embraced warmly upon their re-union.

Dominic had reasoned they would be safe enough staying in the relative comfort of the outpost providing they watched the track ahead for signs of the returning raiders. It would be easy enough to slip into the woods or return to the tree house if needs be. They would continue with the task of hunting down the invaders one by one.

The Saxons had gifted them a welcome abundance of ponies and some of these grazed contentedly on the lush grasses at the forest edge. Others languished under the open lean-to at the side of the hut.

Withred sat alone against the wall of the stone hut. Dominic and Murdoc had allowed him to take the evening air, preferring anyway to keep him in sight.

Martha looked at him and said to the others. ‘I don’t understand that man; he rode with the raiders yet seemed not to like them.’ 

Simon nodded. ‘Yes, he’s a mystery that’s for sure.’

‘He does hate Egbert,’ said Tomas, ‘and that
has
to be in his favour. He alone had the power to stop him from running completely mad on the raids. He’s high ranking, I know that.’

Dominic was testing the balance of Withred’s recovered sword as he stood in front of the others. He locked a hard stare on Withred. ‘Yet I would have killed him without thinking’—he raised his voice so that Withred could hear—‘and may still do it with his own sword unless he gives me reason not to.’ He walked over to Withred while the others watched. ‘Well Saxon?’ he challenged. ‘What can you offer us and why should we trust you?’

Withred stood slowly and met Dominic’s stare. ‘I’m of the Anglii people, I am not Saxon.’ He looked over to Simon, Martha, Tomas and Ceola. ‘Not that it made much difference on the raids—Angles also committed foul deeds.’ Frowning, he looked to the woods as if trying to figure out his reasons for coming to Britannia. He turned to the waiting huddle of Britons. ‘I came here as a warrior to fight and gain land for my people, I make no excuse for that, but what they have told you is true. I took no part in either rape or wanton killing.’

‘So why would you side with us now?’ asked Dominic. ‘What’s changed apart from the desire to save your neck from this sword?’

Withred smile was sardonic. ‘They
will
take this land, make no mistake, but I want no part in how it’s done. I grew up in a country similar to this, and worked the land as a boy. I respect the weak and old, and that’s still how I wish to live my life. If riding against you means I have to watch senseless and brutal acts, then I no longer want a part in it.’  His eyes suddenly blazed with a sincere intensity. ‘Believe me, Briton; I’ll
fight for you against them because at least it will be man against man.’

Murdoc joined Dominic. ‘We’ve but two choices,’ he mused, ‘kill him or trust him. At first I wanted to kill him, and if the others had not spoken in his favour or if I had the slightest doubt about his conduct on the raids he would already be dead.’ Murdoc held out his hand. Dominic handed him the sword. ‘We put our trust in you,’ he said as he gave Withred the sword. ‘Do
not
betray it.’

‘I thank you,’ said Withred. He pointed to the hut. ‘There are many spare weapons in there we can use. You didn’t search the cellar before you locked me in. Maybe I’ve already shown I can be trusted.’

Dominic walked into the hut and descended into the cellar. One of the alcoves was piled high with weaponry, including spears, daggers, and axes. He emerged from the hut shortly after holding two well used but effective swords, one of which he threw to Murdoc. ‘These swords are worth a year’s harvest and are an amazing find. Now we all have a weapon, including Martha.’ He looked at Withred. ‘Maybe you can help us after all … Angle.’

Withred looked towards the west, along the line of the track. ‘You’ll not have to wait long,’ he said. ‘They’ll be back soon and we need to be ready for them when they arrive.’ He looked to the sky … at the failing light. ‘Not this day, though,’ he added. ‘They don’t travel through the night.’

‘We need to be up the trail by first light, then,’ said Dominic, encouraged by Withred’s use of
they
and
we
.

 

That night they slept around a low fire. By first light, they met and decided that two men would head up the trail to scout.

Dominic stayed behind. After Murdoc and Withred left, he walked to the edge of the clearing and brushed a layer of dirt off the floor to reveal a wooden hatch. He lifted the cover. Below was a deep storage pit.

The others prepared breakfast as Dominic went about the business of throwing scraps of food into the pit. Whistling cheerfully, he went about his work, winking mysteriously at a bemused Tomas as he passed by him. ‘Come on lad,’ he said, ‘you can help me find any scraps of old meat. Fresh or rotten, throw them all into the pit.’

Tomas was happy to help, and went about his task with gusto, delighted to be of use to Dominic whom he had begun to worship with his boyish enthusiasm.

Ceola chattered softly to a pair of toy twig-men on the dusty floor, while Martha and Simon sat by the fire watching Dominic and Tomas keep busy.

‘A tidy one is Dominic,’ laughed Simon.

‘Yes and they’ll find much to throw into the pit,’ said Martha. ‘The entire surrounding bush is littered with bits of old meat from many meals.’

After they partly filled the pit with all the throwaway scraps they could find, Dominic replaced the original hatch with a lightweight, hide frame, covering it with a layer of soil and leaf litter.

He put his arm round Tomas’ shoulder. ‘Thanks for your help lad, now I’ll show you how to use a bow.’

He entered the hut. Tomas’ face lit up when Dominic emerged a while later with a bedraggled straw figure in the shape of a deer. They walked to the edge of the clearing and Dominic placed the dummy in front of a tree and began to teach Tomas the art of the arrow.

 

Two days passed with little change to routine. Dominic, Murdoc and Withred took turns to watch the track or hunt, while the others busied themselves around the camp.

The relationship between Murdoc and Martha had begun to develop and grow stronger. She met him each day as he returned from his watch, and one evening slipped her hand in his as they walked back to the clearing. Murdoc, at first, felt a deep guilt as he thought of his wife Megan whom he had loved deeply, yet he could not deny the warmth he felt at Martha’s touch.

He had spent many happy years with Megan, and although village life could sometimes be uncomfortable and tough, he had always hoped he would spend the rest of his days with her in his unchanging pastoral world. Yet he could not deny that Martha was sweet natured and lovely, and for now was happy to let things develop naturally between them. Ceola had taken to Martha immediately, and would sit between them in the evenings when the group conversed around the fire.

Withred and Simon had also started to get on well, speaking at length about their varied lives as they went about their tasks.

That night the group slept around the dying embers of the fire and there was no movement in the camp. Murdoc and Withred were up the trail on their watch. It was Dominic who awoke first as he heard a distant snuffling. He was quickly to his feet, his sword ready as he saw a bulky shadow amble towards the stinking food pit at the edge of the camp.  A roar and terrific commotion ensued as the shape fell into the pit.

He ran over and looked down at a grunting bear. It reared to its full height then crouched and sprang up towards the rim of the pit. Dominic leaned back slightly but stood his ground, confident the sink was deep enough to contain the animal. After several more furious attempts to jump out, the bear began to pace around below them. The others, now awake, joined Dominic at the edge.

BOOK: Wolfbane (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain)
4.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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