Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 24

The Angles, it seemed, had taken Ambrosius' tactics from the summer to use against the Britons. They had used their boats to cross the waters of the tidal inlet people called the Wash, landing a strong force of men behind the rivers that were held as the barrier against Angle invasion. But instead of marching onto the rear of one of the small bands of men that held the frontier, they marched northwest to Lindum instead, meaning to make Lindum. Lindum was so important that it needed to be captured quickly, before Adaryn and, more importantly, Ambrosius could react. The capture of Lindum should bring the warbands holding the fords south, and the rest of the Angle army could follow them north, just as Ambrosius had shadowed the Angles east in the summer when they had reacted to the attack on their land behind them.

Except now we would use the same tactic against them. 'We used this tactic and it worked.' I said loudly in the war council. 'So now they've used the same tactic and it should work. So now we're going to use the same tactic again and hope that it works to stop their use of the same tactic working.' Lancelot, for once, grinned at me.

But then again, Lancelot was not getting the hard job.

That fell, once again, to the Votadini, only this time they were led by a new commander. Me. I felt the weight on my shoulders like a lead weight that threatened to topple me over and bury me beneath it's press. As I marched, I felt eyes burning into my back as men wondered if I were up to it. I wished Dirandon were there. I had wished all my life to be given a command, and now I did not want it. I felt like the expectation, of success and failure, would choke me and wished that Dirandon were leading and I could work my way up to this point as a reward, men respecting me for it, like Dirandon had.

But Dirandon was never expected to be more than a captain. My dream was to be a warlord, the most feared one in all of Britain and so this was where I must start.

The Angles had been clever. Engist, it was said, was an old man, and the disaster for him by Ratae had curtailed his ambitions but his son, Octha was young, cunning and ambitious. He had devised this plan, enacted it and was about to lead the campaign that he must be sure would lead to the fall of Elmet, that would lead to the eventual capture of northern Britain.

There was one thing, one impossible thing that he had been unable to account for. That was Owain. How could he had suspected, in spring, that a warband would be formed, on the march and currently just arrived in his very objective, they key to his plan.

That was not necessarily an irretrievable problem for him. Adaryn had wasted no time in withdrawing with his entourage back to his capital, Lyds, where should the worst happen, he would be able to flee through the hills into the safety of Rheged. He had left no one in Lindum but Bagdamagus and a dozen warriors. Less than two hundred men could not hold the entirety of the city walls, not even were they not so broken. There would be too much of it left unwatched and undefended.

Owain decided they would have to make a stand on the road. And so I was sent away in the night.

Owain was concerned chiefly for two things, where the Angles were and how many there were. He was making an assumption that the Angles would want to keep a line of retreat open. Men do not like to have no avenue of escape, and so Owain was sure there would be boats there. He was also sure though, that during the day the majority of these boats would be bringing reinforcements from over the sea. We had to put a stop to that.

And so I marched through the night with fifty men, not knowing what I marched towards, and trying to make my way through the darkness at speed away from the roads that at some point was likely to have Angle warriors camped upon it.