Amber Treasure, The (14 page)

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Authors: Richard Denning

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Military, #War, #Historical Fiction

BOOK: Amber Treasure, The
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I headed away from him, leaving
him to brood on his own. I had no time for discussion. The sun was just
starting to rise now and casting its early light on a dozen bodies lying on the
ancient fort’s parade ground. I wondered how many more would be dead before the
sun went down.

To the north of the parade
ground, beyond the store houses and workshops, there were two rows of long and
low barrack buildings: a row of six immediately across our path and then
another row between those and the north wall, where there was a gatehouse.
Narrow paths passed between each block and the adjacent path linked to another,
thus dividing the rows and creating a maze of passageways.

“This way!” shouted Aedann,
running down the middle passageway between buildings, which each possessed
decaying roofs and rotten doors.

Up ahead, the narrow passage and
the one joining it at right angles formed a crossroads.

Suddenly, just as he reached this
junction, Aedann gave a cry of alarm and tumbled to the ground. In the space
where his head had been a moment before, a spear point was thrust from around
the right hand corner. Eduard was just behind Aedann and had to swerve to avoid
being impaled. He ran on past the spear head and twisting as he did, grasped
the shaft and pulled at it. With a curse, a surprised enemy warrior came
hurtling forwards, overbalanced and then, as he tottered forward, he fell to
the axe of Sigmund and a swift stab of my sword.

As Aedann scrambled to his feet
he followed Eduard, who had carried on around the corner to the right. I, Cuthbert
and three others raced after them.

We found a dozen more Elmetae
lurking between the back of the barracks and the front of the next row. The
space was confined and the numerical advantage of the company pressing up from
behind was not going to help. Yelling their challenge, the enemy warriors
levelled their spears and advanced towards us. Suddenly, from the rear of the
column, I heard Lilla give a shout of surprise. Helped by two other men he had
been hauling Wallace along on his cart and had been caught by more warriors
coming from Samlen’s Headquarters across the parade ground. One of our men was
now dead and Lilla was swinging a seax wildly at three warriors, whilst
screaming for help. A lad from Wicstun at his side held five more at bay with
his spear. Grettir took half a dozen men back to help them and they charged at
the Welshmen, drove them back and then retreated, pulling the cart across so
that it partially blocked the passageway. More of our men rushed to the rear
and with a clattering of wood they linked shields to block the approach. Lilla
staggered forward to the crossroads, blood tricking from a wound on his scalp.
He leant against the wall of a barracks and took several deep breaths. I
trotted over to join him and looked around, trying to work out what to do next.

The fight was now in the tightly
confined spaces at the company’s rear and along the righthand passageway. That
left two routes still open. The passage to the left was blocked by rubble from
the adjacent building, the rear wall having collapsed into it making it
impassable. The way ahead seemed clear and peering in that direction I could
see it led to the palisade at the north wall of the fort − the wall
opposite the way we had come in.

“Aedann!” I yelled. He was
fighting in the righthand passage. His enemy, a big brute with a bald head and
scars all over his arms, was swinging a huge axe two-handed. Aedann watched the
weapon come at him, parried it with his shield and then rushed the man, hacking
at him with his seax. The man brought back his axe to block the attack and then
they were locked in a desperate exchange of blows. Distracted by Aedann, the
warrior did not see Eduard’s spear thrust until it had impaled him. With the
warrior to his front writhing on the ground, Aedann rejoined me.

“Which way are they?” I shouted,
above the din.

He pointed further along the
passage leading through the next row of barracks.

“That way and then turn left
before you reach the outer wall. Be careful to the right though, because the
northern gatehouse is there and it will be manned. The prisoners are in a
barracks two over with the door facing the north wall.”

I looked back down the south
passage and saw that Wallace was unconscious again and slumped in his cart.
Sigmund was his second in command and I shouted to him.

“What is it lad?” he bellowed and
looked my way.

“We have to go this way, Sigmund!
Aedann says that is where our people are.”

“You sure you trust him?” he
asked, looking doubtful as he disengaged from the fight, after being replaced
by another man from the village.

I looked at Aedann and hesitated.

“Not before an hour ago,” I
confessed, “but he freed us and had plenty of opportunity to betray us, besides
which, his parents are prisoners of Samlen, as well.”

Sigmund nodded and waved several
of the men past him up the passageway. Just then, Cuthbert yelled for our
attention. He was gesturing, not into the melee that rumbled on in the side
passage, but upwards towards the roof of one of the rear barracks. Three Welsh
archers were up there and were firing down at us. One missile grazed Cuthbert’s
shoulder and buried itself into the ground behind me. Another flew high and
smashed ineffectively into the wall to the side. The third arrow leapt forth
from the bow of its archer, flew straight and true towards us finally smacking,
with a sickening noise, into Sigmund’s throat.

He stared at me, an expression of
utter disbelief on his face, then staggered back against Aedann and slid to the
ground, quite dead.

“Bollocks to this!” Cuthbert
swore, looking down at Sigmund’s body. Then he whirled round and fired two
arrows at the enemy. The first shot an archer through the face, killing him
instantly. The second hit his comrade in his shoulder, knocking him screaming
from the roof. The remaining archer flashed him a look of abject horror and
then scuttled back, over the roof top and out of sight.

The closest of our men had seen
Sigmund die and many were now looking restless and began to edge back, away
from the enemy. If I was honest, I felt like joining them. Wallace was
unconscious, Sigmund dead and the man who had fallen at the rear of the company
was the oldest headman of the other village contingents. If Cuthwine had been
here, he would have been next in line. But, he was not and whatever father
said, I was unsure I could fill his shoes. Suddenly, Lilla was at my side,
looking sadly down at Sigmund. He then studied my face and I could see that he
could detect the doubt in my eyes. Lilla, used to reading an audience, could
also feel the panic rising about him. But, he also knew how and when to play a
role and did so now.

“Master Cerdic, what are your
orders? Should we carry on down this passageway as Sigmund ordered?”

Well, I might not be as bright as
Lilla, but I hope that I am not as hesitant as Aethelric. I could take a hint
and gladly took one now.

“Yes ... Yes ... er, Eduard
− you and twenty men hold them here. Lilla − go and tell Grettir to
start pulling back this way and then try and help Eduard force a path along
that eastern passage. We need to get to the east gate and out that way if we
are to find the road home. I’ll get the prisoners and return here. Go now,” I
added, as loud as I could; trying to sound confident. Then, turning to the men
around me I shouted, “Everyone else: this way, follow me!”

Not waiting to see if anyone did,
I ran. It was not much of a speech and I just had to hope they would follow.
Aedann told me later that most of the Wicstun Company had looked doubtful, I
was only a youth after all, but Lilla, Cuthbert and Eduard bellowed acceptance.
Cuthbert and Aedann ran after me and after a moment, the rest of the company
followed. I may have been a wet behind the ears greenhorn, but I was still heir
to the Villa and that gave me authority. Or else, perhaps the men just wanted
someone to make the choices for them. Whatever the reason I did not care and
follow me they did.

I now had forty men with me. The
other half of the company were fighting under Eduard and Grettir. I reached the
end of the passageway and glanced right. There was a gatehouse there just as
Aedann had said. Half a dozen Elmetae were on the battlements above the
gateway, peering anxiously towards the noise of the fighting. When we emerged,
they gave a shout and one of them started firing sling shots at us, though we
were at their extreme range and the missiles fell well short. I left Cuthbert
and singled out ten of our own slingers to harass them with arrows and sling
shots then carried on round to the barracks where the prisoners were.

I thought of Mildrith somewhere
within, no doubt terrified by the noise of fighting and having already suffered
the gods knew what horrors. I rushed on, eager to free her, Aedann by my side
no doubt motivated by the thoughts of his parents, keeping pace with me.

We did not see the two horsemen,
until it was almost too late.

“Look out on the right!” one of
the men behind yelled and we saw them at the very last moment: two horses
galloping straight towards us. Astride them were armoured horsemen, their mail
shirts glinting golden in the sunlight. Red cloaks streamed out behind them
like tongues of fire and in front, aiming at our hearts, a pair of long lances
with bright, sharp points, which now came to claim their victims.

Neither I nor Aedann had spears that
might have kept the horses away; instead we each carried a sword. Our only hope
was agility. We leapt apart and rolled across the ground. Hooves thundered by
an inch from my face, one of them caught my sword and knocked it out of my hand
whilst another had caught Aedann a glancing blow in the side of his chest. He
now lay, a screwed up ball of agony, by my side. The horsemen galloped past and
turned to come again, but by then the rest of our company had caught us up and the
enemy, outnumbered as they were, fell back towards the corner of the fort. From
there they watched for a chance to dart in again and strike at us.

Rubbing his ribs, Aedann got to
his feet and we were off again.

The barracks were unguarded, but
had been locked and so one of the woodsmen from Little Compton used a hatchet to
hack his way through the door. Once inside, we discovered a scene of utter
pandemonium. The villagers and townsfolk were convinced the Welsh were now coming
to kill them and so, screaming and panicking, they had backed away into a
corner: mothers hiding their children behind them, their faces pale with
terror. At first, after we had entered, we were not recognised by the
bewildered captives, but one by one the prisoners saw a familiar face and
relaxed, cried out and then rushed over to us. I looked about for Mildrith,
eager to find her too, but she did not seem to be here. Frantic now, I searched
around, yet still I could not find her. Moving through the excited throng, I
came upon Aedann. He had located Gwen, his mother, and was standing next to her
holding her hands, so I rushed over to them.

“Gwen, where is Mildrith, I can’t
...” but, my words caught in my throat as I saw that her eyes were red and filled
with tears. I looked down and there I saw Caerfydd lying on a pile of rotten
straw, a filthy sack for a blanket laid upon him. His eyes were open, but they
looked up at us blankly: he was clearly dead.

“He was injured the evening of
the raid, Master,” Gwen said with a sob. “They made us march through the night
to get here and he had already taken a fever by the next day. I pleaded with
them for help, but they just laughed at me. I said I was Welsh, but they hit me
then and said I was a traitor to Britain and Eboracum for serving you Angles.”

I looked across at Aedann. His
eyes were wet as well, but sorrow was already fading to anger, a look of
implacable hatred stamped across his features.

“He got weaker and died in the
last hour ...” Gwen finished.

I laid my arms about Aedann and
Gwen’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. If I had been faster maybe ...”

Gwen shook her head. “No Master,
he was already dying. Best he died in peace than have to be dragged along in
torment.”

I nodded, but now had to ask
about Mildrith.

Gwen looked at me, suddenly
shocked.

“Master, forgive me. I tried to
protect her and hide her, but that monster with one eye came looking for her
last night. Seemed to know she was here and asked for her. She tried to hide,
but he found her and then the brute dragged her screaming outside. I’m sorry
...” her voice trailed away and she broke down and wept.

I was horrified. Samlen had not
thought much about Mildrith before last night, then. Not until I had lost
control and blurted out her name. It was my fault she was gone and I was afraid
I knew what he had in mind for her.

As if reading my thoughts, Gwen said,
“He seemed taken by her − she is a beauty and no mistake. He said
something about her being a ‘tasty morsel’ and saving her for the victory
celebration ... and then ... then he said she would not have long to wait ...”

I nodded, but I was no longer listening.
I had to get away after her; find Samlen and his men and free her. But I knew I
could not just run out on the company. I swore under my breath, cursing the
gods, and then shouted, perhaps harsher than I needed to, for everyone to move.

Once outside, I looked around at them
all. There were thirty of whom only about ten might be able to fight if they
needed to. We armed these as best we could then, with my gaze lingering on the
pair of horseman still circling off towards the corner of the fort we herded
our people along and set off back towards Cuthbert. It appeared that no more
guards had joined the half dozen already at the gates, so I left him watching
them and started down the narrow passageway.

I had hoped to force a way
towards the east gate and get on the shortest road home. However, when I
reached the crossroads again, I saw at once that this was not going to be
possible. The fight had been escalating whilst I had been away. The south
passage was blocked by twenty Elmetae and the cart, which had now had one wheel
hacked off it and lay tipped over at an odd angle. Wallace was being helped
back to where I was. He looked at me through misty eyes and I could see that he
could not yet take command.

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