Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 14

I have never forgotten a lesson in warfare that I have been taught. Even now, though I now walk into rooms and wonder why I went in there in the first place, or forget where I have left something of import, I still remember all the ways of the warrior that I was taught. I have no doubt that I will not forget any of these lessons until the day I die.

I remember asking my uncle about his name, Uther Pendragon. The Terrible Head Dragon, and nodded with understanding when he told me that it was a name that engendered fear amongst his enemies, and an enemy that is afraid of you is already beaten. I had readily believed this because I was terrified of my uncle!

I remember Merlin explaining about tactics, I remember Ector explaining how to inspire loyalty. Aglovale and his advice about a stabbing sword. Dirandon's words about discipline being what kept the army together. I remember Ambrosius. I remember Ambrosius telling us about strategy, about roads and supplies. And every single teacher I ever had agreed that only a fool split his forces. Ambrosius often told us of how imperative it was not to divide your army, so that your smaller forces may be defeated piecemeal.

Yet when I went to war with Ambrosius, and within a day's march of the enemy the first thing that he did was split his forces.

The following morning one hundred and twenty men crossed the river at the ford and I marched with them. The clear waters of the ford swirled with the disturbed brown mud as we splashed our way through, cursing the wet and the mud that clung to our boots. Ducks quacked angrily at us for disturbing them, paddling away as if our presence was toxic, though few yards downriver a heron watched us dispassionately as we passed.

To my absolute amazement Owain had been given command of this small warband, but that, I knew, was purely notional. Dirandon was in complete control and I had seen Ambrosius in deep conversation with the two of them before they had left and I had known this was Owain being told to listen to the men. Owain may have been on command of the warband but Dirandon was in command of Owain.

Aglovale was joining us too, in command of fifty of the fittest Powysian soldiers, mostly young but with a salted with a sprinkling of tough looking veterans with them. Aglovale was obviously there as another experienced veteran, one of Ambroisus' most trusted captains to support Dirandon.

I felt pleased to see Aglovale. I did not feel so alone with him there. He was not as aloof as Dirandon and he grinned wickedly at me as we marched. 'If I find you've spent all this gold we're going to plunder on women.' He told me in his cheerful growl. 'I'm going to bury your face so hard into one of their tits so you suffocate.'

I beamed at him, ecstatic to be back amongst friends. 'I mean, if you're going to go, go with a face full of tits.' I laughed and he guffawed and cuffed me on the back of the head with gruff affection.

I felt an excited thrill as we marched, for we were marching into Angleland. We were to be surrounded by enemies, with an army of over three hundred Angles able to block us off. I had been terrified of the shield wall. I still was terrified of the shield wall, but there was something else. There was pride, and pride is a warrior's commodity. A warrior cannot exist without pride. Pride is what keeps him in place when his courage is wavering. Pride in yourself, in your comrades. And I was proud that it was my people, and me that had been given the most dangerous task, for we had been given it because we were the best.

'Then why are we mere peasants here?' Aglovale mocked me, indicating his Powysian band. 'Surely we are not good enough to march alongside the vaunted Votadini?'

'Someone's got to make up the numbers.' I opined, scratching my chin and wishing I could grow a proper beard. 'And I guess you're not bad.' Aglovale laughed loudly at my arrogance, genuinely amused by it.