The Red And Savage Tongue (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) (24 page)

    
The men saw hardly any game—their shouts and curses as they struggled through the boggy terrain serving to set the animals to flight long before they got within killing distance.

     On the forth day, the war party set up camp near to Murdoc’s sacked village
, where grey smoke curled sluggishly upwards from a damp-wood fire that had been a struggle to light. The men stood around it, palms facing the chill-relieving heat. Wood from the ruined village was added to the pyre, and soon the good-sized blaze forced the men to back away a distance from a heat that toasted faces and caused damp clothes to steam.

    Osric sat on a log a few yards away from the blaze and beckoned Egbert to join him.
Their boots, stuck on upright sticks jammed into the ground near to the fire, steamed as they dried out. ‘By my reckoning it’s only three days travel to the village; the village from where you allowed the woman to escape with the old man. It’s there where we must enter the forest I think.’

     Egbert nodded.
‘That’s so. From there it’s only a few days to reach the storage post where the wolf-man ambushed us.’

     Osric looked concerned.
‘Then we must be prepared for attack as soon as we enter the dark woods; we can’t take any chances this time. I’ll dispatch scouts as outriders long before we reach the wolf-man’s lair. Bealdwine is the best scout I’ve ever ridden with and he is a savage fighter. I’ll send him ahead with one other man, and pity the wolf, human or otherwise, which
he
sniffs out.’

Three days easier ride, over roads that had suffered less erosion than their previous passage, brought them in good time to Martha’s village. It had remained undisturbed and sombre since the raid. Simon’s delving tool still lay next to the hut where he had rescued Martha—a huge section of soggy, broken wall bearing testimony to the successful escape.

     The men had no reason to stop here, and after a brief pause during which Egbert regale
d the men with anecdotal accounts of his brutality in various parts of the village, the company turned into the deep forest.

     It was the first time that Osric had entered the British woods for a long journey, and the difference in light and shadow immediately struck him. His mood
became sombre and uneasy as they rode into the oppressive gloom.

     Bealdwine and another man were dispatched
ahead to scout the trail and shrub cover on either side of the track. The first day was to prove uneventful, and as evening approached, the two men returned to the main group, where Osric met them, seeking news.

     Rubbing his back wearily, Bealdwine sighed.
‘There’s nothing to be seen, and nothing apart from the beasts of the woods have trampled the land ahead for many months. The trail’s easy to scout— there’s little undergrowth so early in the year, but there’s ample grass for the mounts …’ He again rubbed his back ‘… fuck, how my bones ache in this dampness.’

     Osric was concerned that one of his hardiest and best men was beginning to show signs of weariness so early in the journey. A long, inactive winter
had taken its toll on most of them, but Osric had hoped that days in the saddle would have restored the men to travel fitness by now.

     He slapped Bealdwine’s shoulder, intent on raising his moral.
‘Come on Woodhawk, live up to your name, and don’t fret over a damp arse. You’ve worked well today, and before long you’ll be nestled between a pair of warm thighs.’

    
‘Let’s hope it
is
before long,’ said Bealdwine as he dismounted.

     The next day they reached the bracken-filled clearing where Cerdic and
Aelred had fallen to Dominic’s arrows.

     Egbert pointed to a shrub on the edge of the glade.
‘That’s where we first saw the wolf-man, and from there he dropped Cerdic. If I’m not mistaken the trail runs north from behind that bush.’

     Osric rode over and surveyed the fai
nt trail that led from the bush. He turned to Bealdwine. ‘Be extra careful from here onwards,’ he said. ‘The trail ahead looks to have been used—even my untrained eye can see that. The wolf-man is close by.’

     Bealdwine removed his hunter’s knife from his belt.
He said: ‘This knife’s been sharpened to gut and clean wild men, Osric. Don’t worry for me, I’m not the one who will have his fucking heart removed before the day is out.’     

    
Osric, encouraged by Bealdwine’s resurgent zeal, slapped the rump of the outrider’s pony setting it into a trot. ‘Then get you into the woods and bring me back a heart,’ he shouted, as Bealdwine and his companion vanished into the tree cover.

     For the rest of the day Wlensling, a good scout in his own right, rode at the front of the group, occasionally stopping when the trail grew faint.
Then, he would dismount and closely examine the ground until he was satisfied they were heading in the right direction. Bealdwine’s tracks were often visible as his wandering spoor criss-crossed the trail; proof that the main body of riders were still on the right course.

     That night at camp
, Wlensling sat with Osric and Egbert beside a welcoming fire. ‘Tomorrow should see us reach the Roman road that runs from east to west,’ he said. ‘After that, a further day and half’s travel should see us reach the storage huts.’

     Egbert shifted anxiously at the mention of Dominic’s former camp.
‘Care will be needed from here on,’ he said. The Britons were able to kill some of my best men in these woods, but we now have a scout and warrior in Bealdwine to equal anyone in their rabble pack.’

     Osric poked a stick into the fire, provoking a fresh combustion of flames.
‘Bealdwine reports that the woods ahead are empty of people. Maybe the harsh winter has put an end to some of their miserable lives.’ As he said this, an animal stirred in the undergrowth nearby, startling them and causing them to look uneasily towards the source of the noise. ‘But if they still live,’ he continued angrily, ‘they should show themselves and fight like men.’

Next day the riders joined the Roman road, and, again, Bealdwine and his companion went on ahead.    

     Hours passed without Bealdwine reporting to the main party, and it was mid-afternoon before Osric first voiced his concern to Wlensling.
‘Perhaps the easy passage of the road encouraged them to push further ahead. Knowing Bealdwine as I do—’ he stopped and pointed ahead. ‘See, there’s movement up the trail; Bealdwine no doubt.’

     Wlensling saw the movement in the trees, his view partially obscured by the low forest growth surrounding them. Along with Osric, he approached cautiously until they were fifty paces away. Once there, he learned that Osric
’s observation was true. However, it was a headless Bealdwine, hanging upturned and suspended from a tree, who awaited them.

     They
recognised him from his distinctive tunic. His chest was pierced by a thin sharpened stick, from which hung a wide piece of birch bark, upon the back of which was written ’Amyrorian.’

     ’
Murdere
r’ whispered Egbert, as he reached the gawking men. ‘No doubt, Withred has taught them some of our tongue. It seems that the wolf-man survived the winter after all.’

After killing Bealdwine and his fellow scout, Dominic and Murdoc made sure there were no other outriders to worry them. They headed back to Augustus and the others to prepare the camp for the arrival of Osric.

     Back at the camp, the job of digging the pit had gone well. Once through the compacted crust of the ground, Augustus and his brawny siblings had made quick progress, as little effort was required to remove
the loose, grainy humus below, and it was not long before the diggers disappeared from view, with only their spades visible as they lifted them to throw out great showers of soil.

     When they had completed the digging,
soiled and sweat soaked, they stood knee deep in the nearby stream, washing the grime from their naked bodies. As they worked, the brothers had joked between their gruntings—their strong fraternal bond clear for Darga and James to see.

     The charismatic
Augustus, as the oldest, was a father figure to his brothers, and they had obediently done as he instructed during the excavation.

     Samuel
, the youngest, looked at the huge mounds of soil. ‘Shall we move the soil out of sight now Gus?’

     Rubbing himself dry with a piece of sackcloth
, Augustus studied the pile. ‘It would have been better if we’d washed
after
moving the soil.’ He looked at his brothers who still languished in the stream. ‘Come on lads,’ he shouted, ‘you heard young Sam, let’s get moving!’ To emphasise his intention, he clapped his huge meaty hands together, causing the men to run from the stream and dress quickly.   

    
Two of the brothers, William and John, were twins, and seemed to have a deep understanding between them as they worked harmoniously together. They shovelled the soil onto a wide piece of deer hide, which the other two men dragged to the edge of the clearing where it was disposed of, out of sight.

     Darga sat on a stone near to the dead fire, hacking away at a wooden shaft. Beside him lay a number of completed spikes. He looked up as Joseph approached with another five rough branches cradled in his arms. He dr
opped them in a clattering heap and sat beside Darga to shape them.

    
‘Twenty or so should do it,’ said Darga morosely. ‘I just hope we get the chance to fight them toe to toe after this nonsense.’

    
‘Trust in Dominic,’ said Joseph, as he hacked at the stake with his ax. ‘Without him we wouldn’t have a chance against them.’

     Darga stood and stretched, then threw a completed spike amongst the others.
‘That may be so,’ he yawned, ‘but I’ve yet to see the proof of this.’ He picked up an armful of spikes and walked over to the pit.

     At nightfall, the six men stood around the
ir work in an admiring circle. ‘See how those fangs snarl at us,’ said Augustus. ‘Let us hope they do a good job on the bastards.’

     Joseph shivered as he studied their work.
‘Good God! How things change. I never thought I’d be responsible for such savagery.’ As he looked down, his eyes took on a distant look. ‘But evil must be met with evil,’ he murmured.

     After covering the entrapment with a hide frame, a thin layering of soil was scattered over it.

     ‘It doesn’t fool me,’ said Darga, ‘the soil’s too crumbly, not like the hard earth around it.’

     Augustus rolled his eyes in supplication.
‘You’re too quick to complain lad.’ He threw a shovel to Darga. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Help us blend in the soil and stop your carping.’

Next day, Dominic and Murdoc returned. They looked with approval at the completed work, as Augustus and his brothers beamed with undisguised pride at their handiwork. ‘I see you took an injury,’ said Augustus, looking at the strip of cloth on Murdoc’s arm.

     Dominic lifted the cloth to observe the laceration.
‘Yes it seems that Mur’s collecting scars to show to his grandchildren.’ He peered at the crusty wound. ‘Lucky that he heals well—one leg and one arm now saved.’

     Darga had remained unmoved by the arrival of Dominic and Murdoc, but could not resist boasting,
‘You should see the spikes beneath—they would pierce the hide of an ox.’

    
‘Egbert’s hide will do for now,’ said Joseph. ‘When do we leave Dom?’

     Looking back down the track, Dominic pondered the question.
‘By my guess, we’re half a day ahead of them. It’d be wise to leave as soon as the ponies are packed and ready. I’ve further plans for them down the trail.’

    
‘Consider it done,’ said Augustus. ‘Come—William, John, Sam—we’ve work to do!’

     Murdoc smiled at the enthusiasm of the four men
, and joined them in the task of loading the ponies. ‘It seems we’ll have no rest until this is done,’ he said. ‘Oh, for a return to the easy life toiling in the fields and hauling on a plough.’

   
Dominic smiled as he walked over to the hut and shut the door and window in preparation for their departure.

After leaving the camp, the Britons travelled hard, and after two uneventful days rode along a track that ran through a narrow valley whose sides formed a steep vee. After passing through a deep basin-like depression within the valley, Dominic stopped. He nodded to Murdoc, who was aware of the next part of the plan.

    
‘There’s a stream ahead,’ he said to the others. ‘It runs down the valley away from us, but if we can dam it, then dig a channel back to this depression, following the natural fall of the land back to here, it should quickly fill with water. The stream runs fast from the recent flooding so it should take no time for the hollow here to fill head-high or deeper. The raiders
have
to come this way to reach the village. I don’t need to tell you what an obstruction this will be to them. The steep sides of the valley will be their only route around the pool we create.’

     Augustus was off his pony at once. He removed the spades from the pack pony and threw them to his brothers who had dismounted along with him.
‘Let’s get damming and digging then,’ he said. ‘Show us what you’ve in mind and we’ll get the job done as quickly as we can. How much time do we have?’

    
‘Time enough,’ said Dominic. ‘We move quicker than them, so they’re a good distance behind us, I guess.’     

     Darga
expressed scepticism at the plan. ‘We’ll lose time doing this, and tire ourselves for the fighting we must do. They can only be a short distance behind us. Surely, they’ll catch us in the act. I say leave dam building to beavers. Surely we would be better putting your other plans to action, and maybe fighting them directly.’

     Augustus
exploded and threw a spade full of dirt over Darga, Throwing his shovel to the ground, he approached him menacingly. ‘Have you spent the entire winter with your fucking ears plugged!’ he raged. ‘Maybe it’d be better if you shut your mouth and picked up a shovel,’ He pointed to his own discarded shovel. ‘Or maybe I could just shove that shovel up your moaning arse, you piece of—‘’

    
‘Whoa!’  Murdoc stepped between them. ‘We’ve no time for this!,’ he shouted. ‘You must stop this now; we’re here to fight Saxons, not each other!’

     Darga spluttered and brushed the soil off his clothing. Knowing the futility of taking on
the glowering Augustus, he sulkily took the shovel offered to him by Murdoc, who shook his head in incredulity and offered his palms to the sky.

    
James and Murdoc guided the ponies to drag a fallen tree across the watercourse and partially stem the flow of water down the valley. The tree had fallen during the gales of the year before, leaving its roots encrusted by a huge lump of clay. This served to restrict the flow of the stream, as floating debris carried by the lively flow snagged on the root ball, further improving its efficiency as a dam.

     Water still flowed slightly through the barrier, but a backlog of muddy, leafy, water began to flood across the track
and fall back towards the hollow. The men began to dig a shallow trough ahead of it, creating a steeper incline to speed its progress until it reached the deep, clay basin.

    
After completing their work, the men stood admiring their creation as the muddy pool began to fill rapidly. Darga was the exception; standing hunched and sulking away from them.  As the valley filled with water they were forced to step away from the water’s edge. ‘We must move ahead along the valley,’ said Murdoc, ‘before we’re ensnared by our own trap.’

     Once beyond the pool, Dominic looked to the heights above him.
‘Now we wait for them,’ he said.   

After recovering Bealdwine’s headless body, a hush had befallen the raiders. Osric looked ahead.
You’ll pay for this, wolf
, he thought. He turned to his men. ‘Drag his body to the side of the track; we’ve no time to dispose of him in any other way.’

    
‘It would appear that the small, cowardly force you spoke of has struck again, Osric.’ The voice belonged to Alfred, the man who had questioned Osric on the matter of resistance when in the tavern in Camulodunum. He strode to the front of the assembly.

    
‘And cowards they are!’ shouted Osric. ‘Otherwise they would fight and face us.’  He gave the disillusioned Alfred a hard stare. ‘Anyway, Bealdwine’s death is a timely reminder and will put us on our guard and keep us alert … WHAT? Do you expect to ride unchallenged on every campaign?’

     Alfred walked away muttering.
‘No I’m prepared to die if needs be, but let it be a warrior’s death. I don’t wish to be left hanging like a rotting hare from a tree.’

    
‘Then get on your pony and follow me down the track!’ shouted Osric. He addressed the others who had stood morosely by their ponies listening to the exchange. ‘And that goes for all of you. Mount up and follow me!’

     The next morning
as they progressed, Egbert looked thoughtful. Noticing this, Osric clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Cheer up swine-gut,’ he laughed, ‘you’ll be feasting and rutting before the summer arrives.’

     Egbert stared s
ullenly ahead. ‘We should reach the wolf’s lair today, and I would gladly sell my soul to hell if I could spend a week slowly torturing him.’

    
‘I can guess why you’re tense,’ said Osric, ‘but save the trouble of bartering your soul, that is surely already many times spoken for.’

    
‘We must kill him soon,’ said Egbert, ignoring Osric’s observation about his soul. ‘He’s the inspiration behind their futile resistance.’

    
‘We certainly won’t catch him in his lair,’ said Osric. ‘He is far to cunning for that.’

It was mid-afternoon when they reached the clearing. Dominic had skilfully removed all signs of recent habitation, making the camp looked long abandoned.

     Osric rode into the square and looked around in admiration. 
‘It’s a pity you could not secure this place for a base, Egbert. It’s well sited and would have provisioned us well today.’

    
‘It may still do, if they’ve left the cellars intact, but wait here, that disturbance in the ground is the place where Hereward fell to the bear in the pit. The wolf-man could have set further traps for us.’

    
‘Thanks for your warning, but it’s needless,’ said Osric. ‘Don’t forget I’ve recently seen what he’s capable of. It’s not my intention to stay here for longer than we need to, let alone fall into a trap. We need to
check out the underground store for supplies. If we’re vigilant, we’ll take no injury.’ He turned and shouted to the men, who stood talking quietly and nervously in a group. ‘Four men over here, axes ready! The rest of you form a defensive ring around the camp.’

    Six of the younger Geoguth, eager to impress Osric and Egbert, stepped forward. Egbert nodded towards the hut door.
‘In there, six of you if you must, but study the ground below your feet first, it’s likely a trap lies in wait.’

     One of the men, a sinewy youth named Chad, lay on his belly and slowly snaked his way to the hut door, banging the ground before him with his fist. At a point six paces from the hut, his fist bounced as it hit the hide cover of the hidden pit.

     Wlensling smiled and walked over to Chad. He reached down, found the outer frame of the cover, and dragged it away from the cavity. ‘Well done, lad, see what you’ve saved us from.’

     Egbert and Osric joined Wlensling at the rim of the pit.
‘By Woden’s stinking breath,’ whispered Osric, in awe of the malevolence below him. ‘But the wolf wouldn’t do such things if he knew how we’ll repay him and his followers for this.’ He looked towards the hut door, and then at the six volunteers. ‘Into the hut now, let’s quickly remove anything of use from the cellar and be on our way.’

     Chad led the other five men carefully past the pit and through the door of the hut, entering its dark interior. He was the first to fall into the second pit. The others pushing up behind were unable to see that Chad had fallen, due to the
darkness in the hut. Dominic’s last act before leaving the camp had been to block the window opening and restrict the light. Because of this, the other five men followed Chad into the pit, falling five feet before hitting the spikes.

     Dominic had rightly
guessed they would have been wary of the tactic of the pit and would find the first trap. He had then come up with the idea of digging a second trap in the gloom of the hut; his hope being that Saxon complacency might follow the first discovery.

     Osric and Wlensling now stood astounded as they looked into the pit. Egbert smashed the hut’s window cover with his ax to allow light to flood in and illuminate the
grisly scene below them. Only three of the men had died instantly. Badly wounded, the other three men groaned in agony, pierced through by the rough, wooden stakes.

    
‘Stand back!’ said Egbert as he entered the threshold of the hut, still brandishing his ax. He looked at Osric, who nodded grimly and walked out of the hut with Wlensling. ‘Make to leave!’ he shouted furiously to the men around the square. ‘Tether the six spare ponies together so they share the weight of the others.’

     An awful screaming and a meaty, hacking came from the hut as Egbert dispatched the surviving men.

Osric rode away from the clearing in a mad gallop, furious that his war band now numbered just thirty-three men. After his mount became exhausted, he waited, slumped in his saddle for the other men to rejoin him. His rage spent, Wlensling approached him with a fresh pony.
‘You took a risk,’ he said, ‘riding on ahead, alone. The Britons may have been lying in wait.’

     Osric’s eyes flashed.
‘Why should we fear a few fugitives, what have things come to if we fear an army of ragged peasants?’

    
‘They’ve sent eight of our men to Woden,’ said Wlensling. ‘It would be wise, at least, not to offer ourselves on a platter to them.’

     Osric sighed and looked to th
e ground. ‘See … hoof prints. At least we see sign of their passing. They were in haste. I pray we’ll meet them soon.’

Osric’s hope proved futile, and two further days passed without encounter. On the afternoon of the third day since leaving the camp, they entered a thickly wooded valley.    

    
‘A good place for an ambush, if ever I saw one,’ said Egbert to Wlensling, as he peered along the valley and up the steep slopes. ‘Not a place to spend the night, that’s for sure.’

     Osric joined them as they stopped to survey the scene, their ponies jittery in the oppressive atmosphere of the gorge. He looked up the valley and was about to speak when one of the
outriders—a youth named Godrys who had gone on ahead—returned with news. ‘The valley is flooded across it width, I tried to ford it, but it’s too deep.’

    
‘I’ll take a look,’ said Osric, and rode ahead with Egbert and Wlensling.

     Ahead of them, a long narrow lake lapped against the side of the valley. Egbert grasped Osric’s shoulder and pointed ahead. At the other end of the lake, eight figures stood in a line. The men appeared to observe them until the main body of riders arrived. The figures
then raised their bows and released two volleys of arrows.

     The
Saxons were off their mounts in an instant and hit the ground for cover, lying flat beneath their ponies. Two men took fatal wounds and one took an arrow to the thigh.