Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 16

The Angle village continued to smoulder. The day was dull overhead, and the thick black smoke rose like a pillar into the sky all the way up to the clouds it seemed.

I felt sick and hollow, splintered from my body, like I was watching myself walk through this field of horror.

The screams had stopped. Tears replaced them; or broken silence as they huddled together under guard. Many more lifelessly littered the ground. I stared at one for a long moment, her blonde hair stained red and her empty eyes staring unseeingly into the sky were still very blue but at least they were no longer frightened.

Fortunately, I did not long have to bear witness to our broken honour. We quickly had to be back on the march, heading back towards the west, though this time sticking to the roads.

We marched hard, and for that I was thankful, for guilt hung heavy on my heart. The pace was so that I did not have the ability to think of anything but the burn of my muscles and chest as we marched, desperate to get back to the hill fort before the Angles could cut us off.

We were not fast enough.

It was a midmorning when we were ambushed.

It was the cavalry that missed the ambush, but the cavalry who saved us.

We marched in column, in neat ordered ranks, going the direct route of the road that ran through the woods when from our left there came with a shout fifty men come sprinting for our flanks.

'Shield wall.' The shout went up, and all I did was simply turn to my left as my companions locked their shields with my own as it was held numbly in front of me.

'Brace!' Someone shouted. I had been held dumb in my surprise, and though my mind had not caught up to what was happening my actions were automatic. Training was kicking in. I put my left shoulder behind my shield and readied to take the impact of the Angle's charge, my spear held in an overhand grip ready to thrust.

I eyed the Angle coming at me and felt my heart thump. He was big, so big I felt that surely I could not hold back the charge of such a beast of a man. Fear threatened to unman me, to weaken me, but fear is not always a bad thing. I feared failing, not dying, I feared not being able to hold my place in the wall and that made me brace myself more firmly behind my shield. To grip my spear more tightly and it gave strength to my muscles ready to punch my spear forwards more lethally.

The Angles were not coming in to the clash of shield walls like they normally did though, but were sprinting at us as individuals, yelling and making as much noise as possible, and it was such that the big Angle came at me I lowered myself before exploding my shield forwards, knocking him back so that he rebounded from me, losing his balance.

I rose, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder, and with my spear over my shield viciously stabbed it forwards with cool accuracy. The point ripped downwards to tear into his throat. For the first time I simply felt nothing as I did this. No fear. No horror. Not even a shout of triumph. Just the efficient automatic actions of the well-trained soldier as I quickly focused onto my next enemy.

But then there was a shout, and over our shoulders we saw the rush of many more Angles coming at us from our vulnerable rear. We were tight in our shield wall but we were facing the wrong way. We struggled to turn in the close confines. Locked shields clashed on one another as cursing men tried to turn. I dropped mine to turn faster but was nearly knocked down as the man to my right knocked me with his as he tried to turn to face the new threat.