We walked the horses up to the crest of the nearest down, ready to take our places. We could see Cinvar’s troops drawn up on the hill. All the slopes were gentle and covered in short grass, except where the highroad cut through them in stone. The further slope was steeper, but it did not seem very steep; certainly it was nothing compared to the hills of Derwen or of Bregheda. The militia of Tathal waved their weapons and shouted at us. They made a hedge of weapons against the sky. I could see swords and spears and axes, and also scythes and clubs. Cinvar was in the center with his household warriors around him; he had a single great banner with the Brown Dog of Tathal on a yellow background.
In a flurry of trumpet calls and hand signals Urdo’s ala went down the road, going quite fast. Cinvar’s troops really did fall for it and came rushing down the slope. Cadraith’s ala was already moving north. I signaled for Galba’s ala to follow me and charged down the road to take Cinvar’s troops in the rear.
It all went splendidly until I realized it wasn’t only Cinvar. We were quite a way down the road when I saw Flavien’s banner up ahead, and Cinon’s. They were drawn up behind the hill, where they had been out of our sight. They stood firm, blocking the road ahead of Urdo’s ala, who were caught between them and the mass of Cinvar’s troops, the ones we had hoped would break and scatter at my charge. I signaled to Cadraith straight away, in case he had not seen, then I pulled Galba’s ala close around me and we charged up the shoulder of the hill, straight through the remaining bulk of Cinvar’s troops.
There is no time in battle to wonder whether the young man impaled on your spear is the farmer’s son who went off to war with only one shirt. There is no time to count your enemies when they are still coming at you. There were a lot of them, and they stood better than I would have thought. We had to hack our way through them to get to Urdo, there was no other choice. It was possible that they could swamp his ala through sheer force of numbers. I saw ap Selevan pulled down by three Tathalians. I kept moving, signaling to my pennon to stay close to me, and to the ala to keep formation. We had discipline and kept together; our opponents had no such habits. We kept moving, never quite bogging down, until we got through them.
They kept trying to harass us, but as soon as we had joined up with Urdo’s ala and made some space to maneuver we ran north to join Cadraith. Dalmer and Celemon brought up the supplies and the spare horses to join us straightaway. We re-formed quickly, the three alae together again, with the supply train in the middle. We changed horses; then, safely on Evenstar’s broad back, I drew breath and looked around to consider the position.
As usual, the battle had taken more time than I had noticed. The sun was drawing down the sky in the west behind us. We were well north of the road. East, a little way down the road, Cinon and Flavien were still drawn up, blocking us entirely from going east toward Caer Tanaga. Behind us Cinvar and his troops were attempting to form up and close us in. We had outrun them, but that had bought us only a little time. Cinvar kept trying to call them back to re-form. If Cinvar had a proper system of signals like ours he might have been on us already.
One of the quartermasters delivered the fresh spears to the ala. I heard the steady clicking behind me as the bundle was passed from armiger to armiger along the lines.
Urdo signaled and the three alae formed up individually, ready to ride as soon as we had orders. I rode over to Urdo to find out what the orders were, and saw Cadraith doing the same. Poor Cadraith had been wounded in the leg and looked pale. He kept looking southeast. I turned my head to see what was attracting his attention, and closed my eyes for an instant, as if that could help.
On the top of the southern down, clear against the sky, fresh and drawn up in battle order, stood Angas’s ala. He couldn’t get to us unless Cinon and Flavien made a lane for him, but he was there. The Thorn of Demedia showed clearly on his banners even at that distance.
“Angas,” he said, gesturing as we came up together.
There was nothing I could say to that, except yes, so I ignored it.
“We could charge back at Cinvar’s troops?” I suggested. “They’re shaken already; another charge might scatter them.”
“But where are we heading?” Masarn asked.
I realized then that we were trying to think of a way out of a trap, and we had no strong place close to retreat to. Between the three kings there were as many foot soldiers as at Foreth, maybe more, and now there was Angas’s ala. We could all die, I thought, and the Peace with us. I had always known that I could die in battle. I had seen friends fall and had enough close escapes to know myself mortal. But it had always seemed that, although I could die, it would be in victory, to help build the Peace, the way Urdo had spoken about the fallen of Foreth.
Urdo was about to speak when there came a great cacophonous roar from ahead. It was so loud and discordant it spooked the horses, but we all turned to face it. I saw a woman advancing up the little stream that ran in the valley bottom below us, an army behind her. She had a spear in each hand, and her hair was spiked with lime so that it stood out almost an arm’s length from her head in all directions. She was quite naked, and painted blue all over, with spiraling designs drawn in black and white on top. Her stomach had a red mouth drawn on it and her breasts were painted so that her nipples looked like eyes, outlined in white and black. She was howling like the ghosts of a thousand neglected ancestors come for vengeance. Her people, who seemed numerous and well armed, followed behind, blowing war trumpets that made a disconsolate bellow rather than playing discernable notes. Many of them were also naked and painted, others wore sensible armor. All of them were carrying stabbing swords, spears, and round shields, which they beat on as they approached.
“Back to your alae, and charge Cinvar now,” Urdo said urgently. I went back at top speed, and gave the signals. There was a moment’s hesitation, then we saw that Darien was leading Urdo’s Own Ala down on the Tathalians, and we came down after them to drive the hammer blow home. I don’t know if I even killed anyone in that charge, it seemed as if they broke instantly. They were only half-trained farmers after all. We hit them, and the army of blue-painted howling Isarnagans hit them just afterward, and they scattered, fleeing south or east toward their friends. Even Cinvar ran, and the men of his household, whatever they said afterward. They scattered eastward toward their waiting friends, who had still not moved.
We obeyed orders and let them run once they had dropped their weapons. The foot soldiers pursued until called back by a loud, discordant blast on their war-trumpets. Then they came back and started looting among the fallen.
We rallied and re-formed again. Again, I rode over to Urdo. Most of the foot soldiers were scattered across the battlefield, but fifty or so were drawn up in the sort of churning I now recognized as the Isarnagan notion of order. A woman came up from among them with a red cloak, which she handed to the leader. I had guessed who she was by this time, though I could not imagine how or why she was here.
“Well met, King Urdo,” she called loudly and cheerfully, in Tanagan accented like Conal’s, settling the cloak around her shoulders. “I am Atha of Oriel.” Her voice was chillingly calm for a woman who had been fighting like a demon only a few minutes before. Yet there was an edge to it that made it quite clear she was not entirely in her right mind.
“Well met on the field of battle, Atha of Oriel,” Urdo replied, in even tones. “What brings you to my country in arms?”
It was hard to tell under the war paint, but I thought Atha seemed surprised. “I am here in arms to avenge my herald, Conal the Victor,” she said, as if this was only to be expected. “Sulien ap Gwien and Conal’s kinsman, Lew ap Ross, were kind enough to send me his body and all the details of his betrayal and hero’s death.” Emer would have known all the details, I thought, and she must have made Lew say more than I had said in my carefully worded letter. I could just imagine Conal’s face if he saw this reaction. I wondered if his father had come.
“I mustered my forces at once,?
?? Atha went on. She waved her spears, both bloodstained now. Those of her forces who were near enough to hear cheered. “Keeping my oath not to invade Demedia again, although it was in rebellion against you, I sailed south to Magor, only to learn from Golidan ap Dorath that you had already killed the traitor Aurien ap Gwien. So we sailed onto Caer Tanaga to consult with you. When we reached your city three days ago it was to learn that it had been taken by Arling Gunnarsson and the traitor Ayl Drumwinsson. We could not stop this, but we have been preventing their traitorous allies from joining them from the north. Today we have been reinforced by boats coming upriver bearing your faithful ally, Ohtar Bearsson, and his men. Seeing all the armies hurrying up the highroad, we followed them in secret and came to your aid.”
“My deepest thanks, King Atha,” Urdo said, bowing as best he could from horseback.
She laughed. Her laugh somehow reminded me of the tale I had heard that her feasting hall was decorated with the heads of her enemies. “If I had known we would find you so hard pressed I would have brought more than these few warriors you see around me. Fortunately, some of those rebels have fought us before and remember the howl of our wartrumpets and the bite of our swords.”
“I shall send my herald to them to make a truce until tomorrow,” Urdo said. “I am glad to hear of Ohtar’s arrival, and I have more forces coming to me here.”
“We shall beat them out of the land, and avenge Conal and all our fallen friends!” Atha said in a great shout. All her warriors blew their trumpets and beat on their shields, and the armigers cheered.
Urdo sent for Raul, who rode toward the enemy under herald’s branches. We dismounted and made a kind of camp on the hill and in the little valley. We saw to our wounded and gathered the dead. Urdo talked quietly to Atha while we were doing this. I hoped he was finding out exactly how many troops she had brought and how many boats. It always astonished me how quickly people traveled by water. She must have called at Magor after we left it, and still she had been here for days, having battles with the rebel lords.
I went back to Urdo when I saw Raul coming back. I was tired from battle and from the healing charms, which had seemed much harder to sing than usual, and to work less well, as if some part of them was falling short of the ears of the listening gods. It was not that the gods could not hear—I had reattached ap Padarn’s foot, which had been held onto his leg only by the knife which was stuck through his boot, which could never have happened without the Lord of Healing’s aid. There were far fewer dead and wounded than there had been in the battle against Marchel. Still, I was weary. I frowned and rubbed my head between my eyes where an ache was starting. My only wound was a little scratch on my arm from the edge of a spear. It itched. I drank some water from my flask and stood in my place beside Urdo.
Raul looked very grave. He bowed to Urdo and then to us all. Then he turned back to Urdo and addressed him. “We have a truce until tomorrow, when we shall meet to see whether the truce shall last longer or if we shall fight again,” he said. “Cinon is eager to fight, but Flavien wants to negotiate. Cinvar looked a little shaken, like a man who knows what it is to be charged by armigers. Angas looks sick, as if he has aged twenty years in the two years since he was last at Caer Tanaga. He said nothing at all, but looked only at me and not at his allies. Cinon called you ‘the tyrant Urdo’ every second sentence.”
“He has never forgiven me for telling him the truth about his father’s death,” Urdo said. “As for Angas, that is bad news but what I expected. Did they mention the city?”
“They have not been able to reach the city,” Atha said.
“Then if we want to negotiate we will need to send separately to Arling and give him a safe conduct to and from the negotiations,” Urdo said. Raul made a note with his patterned stylus.
“Why negotiate?” Atha asked, pushing back her hair with both hands. “Why not wait until your reinforcements arrive and then crush them?”
“They have my wife hostage in the city,” Urdo said. “And while it is necessary to fight the rebels, I will keep the Peace and the Law as far as I can. We will talk to them. I have hopes that Angas, at least, will realize what he’s doing. He did not fight against me today. Was Morthu there?”
“I did not see him,” Raul said. “I saw all four kings, and many of them had priests and war-leaders and counselors with them, but there was no sign of Morthu ap Talorgen.”
“Good,” said Urdo, but he frowned as he said it. I would much rather have known where Morthu was myself.
“Negotiations should go more smoothly without him,” Raul agreed.
“Let us hope they have learned a lesson from this battle, and are prepared to beg forgiveness and make peace,” Cadraith said.
“I don’t know what they might have learned from this battle,” I said. “They broke, but really, nobody won. As for begging forgiveness, it’s too late for Cinvar, anyway; they fought Urdo himself, there’s no possible excuse.”
Atha jerked up her chin in emphatic agreement. “We want vengeance,” she said.
“Aurien is dead,” Urdo said, very firmly. “She is the only person who has wronged you directly. We very much appreciate your help, and when peace is restored we will make you and your army fine gifts, discussing at that time what will please you. But I will not make my kingdom a desert for vengeance for your herald.”
“Very well,” said Atha, and tossed her head. The spikes of her limed hair did not move at all. I wondered if it was actually stiff enough to hurt someone.
“I will go to them again in the morning,” Raul said. “And I will speak to them about sending someone through to Caer Tanaga.”
“Double sentries tonight, and a wide sentry-ring,” Urdo said. “There is a stream here, so we have water. Let us all rest as best we can; tomorrow is likely to be another busy day.”
— 12 —
“ ‘We will keep to our old ways and the traditions of our ancestors, and you cannot make us change. Such is the law on this island, old man!’ said Sulien Glynsdottar, putting down her cup, and glaring fiercely about her.”
—From The Life of St. Cinwil
We made camp on the hillside, with the stream inside our inner sentry-ring and a strong outer sentry-ring set all around. Govien managed to get our ala sorted out smoothly. All the same he rolled his eyes when I came up to him by his tent. “I wish Emlin were here,” he said. “Emlin would have known all the answers to Dalmer’s questions without needing to ask Nodol.”
“No he wouldn’t,” I said, as reassuringly as I could. I also missed Emlin’s cheerful competence. “You’re doing very well, Govien. We’re finished before Cadraith’s ala.” I started to swing my arms to stretch the weariness of battle out of my shoulders.
“But not before Urdo’s,” he pointed out, truthfully. “I don’t think I’m suited to be a tribuno,” he said, putting down a wax tablet. “I find it so hard to keep track of everything.”
“Everyone does,” I said.
“Not thinking of running out on ap Gwien, are you?” asked Masarn, coming up behind us and stepping carefully around my turning arms. “Can’t do that, you know. It’s an emergency.”
I laughed, and bent to touch my toes.
“I wasn’t thinking of running out,” Govien said quickly. “I’m just not so good at doing Emlin’s job. He’s really the tribuno. I’d rather be just looking after my own pennon.”
“Well, I’m not really a praefecto,” Masarn said, twitching his white cloak into place. “But, fortunately, I only have to do the tribuno’s work because Urdo’s his own praefecto. And whatever Gormant may think, he has been ever since you left us, Sulien.”
“And I’d much rather never have left you,” I said, straightening up and rolling my shoulders. I could feel muscles loosening all the way down my back. “I can’t say I’m not really a king, though.”
“Indeed you can’t,” Masarn said. “If you were only a praefecto, the way I am, you could get out of having dinner with Atha on the grounds t
hat you were exhausted from the battle, or because your ala needed you. As it is—”
“Masarn, if I have to eat with her then you do too!” I said.
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he assured me.
I looked at him suspiciously.
“That’s where the best food will be,” he said. “And if we get to talking about the next battle I won’t have to suggest strategies. I can leave that to you and just agree with everything you say.”
I laughed. “If I see you doing any such thing I will take your plate away.”
Masarn made the face he made at his children when they were misbehaving, the one that made them stop and laugh at the same time.
“I can manage here,” Govien said. He even managed to smile at Masarn, but he looked worn and weary. What he needed, what the whole ala needed, was a good rest.
“We’re none of us young anymore,” Masarn said as we walked together through the camp.
“None of us who fought through the War,” I replied. “There are plenty of young armigers still.” As if to prove my point, a young groom ran past, laughing, holding a blanket, one of Hiveth’s pennon chasing after.
“It’s easier for the young,” Masarn said, watching them giggling and tussling.
“But don’t you miss it?” I asked.
“Miss what?” He looked at me. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He hesitated for a moment. “Did you ever know a veteran who left an ala and settled near it who didn’t come to practice sometimes? That’s why I’m still fit to fight, and all the other veterans in the ranks. The thing is, you hear the trumpet for practice at dawn and you roll over and thank merciful God you’re not out there in the rain. Then a sunny day comes and you hear it blowing. Then you think, why not, it would be a change and you can see your friends. Maybe that’s missing it. Maybe. But the important thing is when you hear the trumpet blowing the alarm.
“Then you know where you belong. I could have stayed home. I could always have stayed home. Nobody ever made me join the ala, it was my own choice. But if the trumpet’s blowing the alarm, well, how could I? How could anyone who knew how to ride and use weapons?”