Gemini Thunder (30 page)

Jack Cat, laid up from his badly lacerated chest as a result of the fight with Loy, suddenly took a heavy fever and hovered for some days on the very edge of his life. Visitors from all around could only sit and watch helplessly as he burned and tossed in the grip of the fever, which left him weaker by the day. Although Jack was a rabid nonbeliever and apostate who treated religion as an object of sneering mockery, Bede was asked by de Gaini to read him the last rites. As he was doing so, the silken cadence of the Latin rising and falling over him in preparation for his departure from this mortal world,
sola salus servire Deo
, our only salvation is in serving God, Jack’s eyes suddenly sprang open, and he growled at the surprised little monk to hold his tongue. Three days later the tough renegade was up and about. Bede used the incident as an expression of the power of faith to heal; Jack, being of an entirely different persuasion, naturally thought otherwise and was heard to declare that if that was the way they carried on in heaven, he was mighty pleased to be going to the other place. Twilight didn’t tell him that the afterlife of the cowering mists was far worse. The renegade leader would find out when his time came as there was only ever one place he would end up.

The snows and winds of January gave way to the cold rains of February. Guthrum and his army, also swelling in numbers as the long ships brought more fighters and families over, still showed no sign of movement from Combe Castle. He, too, had settled for a spring offensive. Ike Penbarrow and his elder son Idris stayed on Swifty’s Island and continued their surreptitious meanderings around the Levels, receiving Twilight and Desmond every week or so to report any information they gleaned. Freyja, too, was quiet and avoided any further contact with Twilight. The unmasking of her spy, William Loy, had been another setback to her. The man had almost succeeded in getting right to the centre of the enemy court, where his intelligence would have proven invaluable, vital even, in the downfall of the whole Celtic offensive.

And that hated Wessex veneficus Twilight.

Who, unbeknown to her, had cracked the problem of location by mind transfer of speech. The next time they encountered each other and the old hag transmitted her spitting hatred, secure in the knowledge that her location was hidden, she would get a big shock.

King Alfred and Edward de Gaini spent a great deal of time planning for the great battle ahead and decided that Kernow was the wrong place to fight. The advantages as a place to regroup over the winter were disadvantages when it came to fighting. There was no retreat if the fight was going against them and little room to manoeuvre tactically if required. The sea was at their backs all the way to the end of the narrow peninsular that was Kernow, and although Alfred had decided to create a fighting naval force as a vital aid to the future defense and supply of his forces, it would take years to build up and also have to wait until he had gained access to the more strategic ports of the south and east coasts. They decided that the ideal place to fight Guthrum was much further north and settled on the area of Wessex, where Alfred was born around the town of Wantage. The people and local warlords were loyal, and he knew the terrain well. The problem with that was he now had to get his army out of Kernow, past Guthrum’s forces at Combe, and, above all, avoid the all-seeing eye of Freyja.

After much consultation and deliberation, Alfred and de Gaini decided to send small groups of one hundred soldiers every few days on a circular route that gave the Combe area a very wide berth. Their experiences with the groups that raided Combe Castle led by Jack Cat stood them in good stead here. If any group was discovered by Freyja or the Viking, the loss would not be catastrophic. Dressed as bands of mercenaries, each group took a slightly different route that essentially headed out of Tintagel south along the coast to Exeter, then on to Blandford Forum. Their orders were only to engage if they encountered Viking; all other contact was strictly barred. At Blandford Forum they headed north across the Plain of Salisbury to Marlborough, then followed the Ridgeway to Wantage. This took each group on a wide circle around Combe. Unfortunately, none of the routes could take advantage of the road system constructed by the Romans that covered Britain, due to the need for secrecy and the fact that none of them actually went in the directions required. The first four groups were headed by Samuel Southee, Jack Cat, Arrow, and Bullwhip. As each group arrived at Wantage, after a five- or six-day march, Twilight would transform the leaders back to Tintagel to guide another. It went without a hitch, and by mid March over eight thousand men were safely quartered around the Wantage area, and the Viking were no wiser. Local warlords added another two thousand men, and the recruitment continued to increase due to the proximity of bigger settlements. Edward de Gaini then marched the remaining six thousand men at Tintagel in full battle dress to Glastonbury and settled them there under his personal command. This force was to wait until Guthrum moved out of Combe Castle and follow them toward Wantage to cut off their retreat from behind. Various monks, priests, and unmilitary hangers-on who had accumulated in the environs of Tintagel were left to fend for themselves.

Except Bede.

Everyone had been much taken with the young monk, especially the king, who was talking about appointing him his household chaplain and Christian advisor, a position that had been vacant since the demise of Septimus Godleman at Winchester.

By the beginning of April, Alfred’s army was all in position, and he had set up his command centre in his old home palace at Wantage. Having the ability to communicate quickly between his two forces through Twilight and the pica, he could move them around and react rapidly to counter any unexpected Viking moves.

Twilight was also itching to validate his new Freyja location system, but he knew that would come when the fighting began. He also added another interesting addition to the Wantage scene that the king was very pleased with.

The Blowing Stone.

As Excalibur was to King Arthur, the Blowing Stone would be to Alfred. As the long magus had described it to the thirteen-year old Twilight, Excalibur and the whole Lady of the Lake legend was created by him as a special talisman. It gave Arthur that little extra, put him on a high, god-like pedestal inhabited by an ethereal being who is more than man or king because he was the only one who could remove the mighty sword.

Myth and legend. People who are expected to die for a king will follow him into the very furnaces of Hades itself and consider it a great privilege if he is sprinkled with this sort of stardust.

Made by Twilight out of a half-man-sized sarsen rock and placed high on the Ridgeway overlooking Wantage, the Blowing Stone acted as a warning system to all the soldiers within a wide radius around Wantage that danger was approaching and they should immediately report to their posts. There were three quite large holes in the top of the stone that, when one was blown, sent a deep, horn-like sound across the area.

Twilight had made it so only one man could do it.

That man was King Alfred.

Acting upon the king’s instructions, Twilight delivered a simple, direct mind message to Freyja. He did not want or require a reply.

King Alfred and his army are ready to engage Guthrum and his cowardly invaders at Uffington, near Wantage in the north of Wessex as soon as he can get his lazy, useless Viking warriors on their feet. If Combe Castle has become too comfortable and the men too fat to move, the king is more than happy to defeat him there.

It had the desired effect. After five months of relative peace, Guthrum was having a hard time keeping his men in check. Only the additions of families, the skirmishes with the Renegades, and a plentiful supply of Celtic women had assuaged the inactivity, but it was wearing off quickly. The berserkers wanted the blood of battle; nothing else would suffice. As always they were beginning to eye each other and remember old family feuds. Five months of blade sharpening and amulet rubbing had almost worn them away. The catatonic-tempered Viking
jarl
gave the order to move out, fast. They would soon show that little Celtic king who ruled around here.

Again.

Freyja gave a few moments’ thought to how the Celts had managed to get from Tintagel to Wantage without her or the Viking finding out but dismissed it as irrelevant. The battle site chosen by Alfred at Uffington was within easy reach, and the Celts would quickly capitulate under the onslaught wherever they were, whilst she dealt with that foul veneficus. She hadn’t been idle, either, for the last few months. Her wild boar herd numbered almost five hundred now and were all trained and aware of what was expected of them in the battle.

Charge, trample, and gore Celts. Simple and very much in the Viking mold.

Alfred and de Gaini had used the winter months well, training the Celtic soldiers for the Viking onslaught. Lessons had been learned at Winchester and Chippingham. There would be very little subtlety in lowlander tactics as they only knew one way to fight. A howling berserker charge with huge weapons held aloft to unsettle and scare the enemy. This had been effective in both previous battles with many defenders fleeing in the face of it. In training de Gaini and Samuel Southee had emphasized over and over the necessity of sitting tight when faced with this spectacle. It would take courage and the yeoman spirit, but all such fighting did. And the Celts had something the Viking didn’t.

Bowmen who could pick them off from three hundred yards.

It was strange that the rabid lowlanders didn’t utilize this most effective of long-range killing weapons, but they didn’t. Perhaps the bow and arrow in any form was considered too slight a weapon for the fighting pride of the warrior Viking; for some reason it just hadn’t figured in their fighting history. Being a static weapon, it also didn’t lend itself to the eyeballs-out charge. Loosening off arrows when running flat out was a skill they had never developed. They may have also thought that their gods and heavily blessed shields would protect them against the swarms of metal-tipped shafts. Either way they would have to get close to inflict any damage, and Alfred intended to exact a high body count this time before they did so and had increased his longbow squadrons by a factor of four since Chippingham.

The tiny hamlet of Uffington, with no more than six hovels nestled under the large rolling hills of the Ridgeway range, was less than one hour’s march from the larger settlement of Wantage. On the very top of the largest hill was the circular earthen ramparts of the old Uffington fort. This is where Alfred had chosen to make his stand. The battlefield had been chosen well. Alfred and de Gaini wanted a planned set piece battle, nothing random. Randomness would play to the strengths of the marauding raiders, high-ground defensive order and lines of fire to the Celts.

As a young boy, prince and younger brother of the king, Alfred had ridden all over this area and knew the hills well. He also knew that mounting an assault up their steep inclines drained the strength from legs and lungs, especially if taken flat out as the Viking were wont to do. At Chippingham the hills hadn’t been very steep, and the charging berserkers climbed them with ease using the natural terracettes as steps. Here the grass was smooth and slippery and a difficult climb. A heavily breathing, tired foe was a much easier proposition. With de Gaini coming up fast behind them, taking up any retreat positions at the bottom of the hill, and over two thousand longbow archers strategically placed along the hills at the centre and both sides, Alfred hoped to have them in a pincer grip that they couldn’t get out of.

Twilight’s pica reported that Freyja had a large herd of wild boar leading the Viking army and that most of the warriors were mounted on sturdy local horses. He had guessed she would do that and had prepared for it.

When it was estimated that the berserkers were within a day and a half of Wantage, Alfred, accompanied by de Gaini, Baron De Lyones, Jack Cat, Samuel Southee, Desmond, and Twilight, walked to the Blowing Stone. Taking a deep breath, the king lowered his head to the top hole and blew as hard as he could. The sound that emanated from the solid sarsen blasted out over the surrounding area with the pure bass of thunder, causing birds to take flight and cattle within a two-mile radius to scatter. As the echo rumbled and bounced around the area, every soldier in the king’s army reached for his weapons and headed for the assembly area.

The king had called them to war. There was nothing more to be said.

It was time to fight.

‘She will send in her large herd of wild boar first,’ said Twilight from their high vantage point at Uffington fort. ‘To gore, trample, and disrupt our soldiers’ rhythm and draw the bowmen’s shafts. They are a simple animal guided by a keen nose and without guile. I have prepared a surprise for them.’

He pointed to an open stretch of grassland with a sharply pointed ridgeway below them just where the incline started.

‘All along that ridge of grass there are hundreds of rabbit warrens.

As the boar approach, the rabbits will be startled by the noise and bolt from their holes.’ His arm described an arc. ‘They will run hither and thither all over that area.’

He smiled at Desmond.

‘So the area will be full of rabbits running everywhere,’ said the puzzled companion. ‘Excuse my ignorance, but what difference to five hundred charging wild boar will that make?’

‘I am hoping it will make a great deal of difference because I have spent a great deal of time on it.’