Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 50

Like the first droplets of rain upon a hillside that can hint at flood so, barely a mile out of the gate did the first men come haring after us. They were a pair of young men on horseback who came cantering in our wake, relief palpable on their faces. 'Lord.' They cried. 'Lord Owain.'

Owain turned his horse and rode towards the back of his column. I stepped back and made to follow. 'Who are you?' He demanded.

'We are from Gwynedd, Lord.' The elder of the two men answered. 'I am Galeschin, this is my younger brother Gareth. We are the sons of Lord Nentres of Garlot.' Garlot was a rich estate in southern Gwynedd and Nentres its lord.

'You bring men?' Owain prompted hopefully and suddenly the boys looked downcast. 'Just our swords, Lord.'

Owain tried not to let the disappointment show. 'Then you bring us much.' He said. 'Join with Lord Culhwch, he commands our Votadini here.' On hearing this I raised my arm, waving them over.

The two boys kicked their horses into a trot to reach me, looking a little dismayed to see that I was walking. 'Take the horses to the baggage.' I instructed them. 'If you're joining us, you'd best harden your feet and get to know the men.'

Their horses to be fair likely needed the rest. They were big beasts but they were lathered in sweat. The boys must have ridden them hard to catch us, which was no surprise for we had set a punishing pace. Owain had brought no wagons, merely sent riders ahead to arrange supplies. Scores of packhorses had been gathered and were led by boys on horses to keep the pace quick.

Galeschin and Gareth hurried back up, jogging to overtake the rear of the column. The boys moved easily enough despite both of them wearing mail with shields slung over their shoulders. Not boys, I corrected myself. Galeschin was probably of an age with me and Gareth a year or two older. Up close and on foot, I saw that they were huge. They were typical of the Votadini I thought, young men who had filled out big frames early with sword practice and farm work. Galeschin was a big man, a little taller than me but perhaps not so heavy in the shoulder. Gareth was like a giant.

'How do you two come to be here?' I asked as they caught up, breathing slightly heavily but recovering quickly.

'We heard of Gododdin's plight my Lord.' Galeschin, the elder of the two and evidently their speaker as Gareth maintained a respectful silence, despite the boyish grin that he wore happily. 'And that Lord Pendragon would not send help, but Lord Owain was marching without him. We wanted to fight. Gododdin is in our blood.' He spoke earnestly and I felt a pang in my heart, suddenly feeling older than my years. Gododdin is in our blood, I thought, and soon our blood might spill on Gododdin's soil. I glanced at our column and thought again how small it was.

I had sixty-four men, for my warband had been complimented by many of Agravaine's men who had joined me after he had died. Our two bands had grown close over the winter months and when he had died it had been a seamless merge. Owain had his usual band of two hundred warriors and fifty-odd cavalry led by Lancelot and his knights. He had brought another three hundred Powysian spearmen, sending the rest to the border in order to deal with potential raids or invasion from Angleland. On top of this we had one hundred and fifty men from Kernow and Dumnonia. We were marching to war against potentially three separate armies with less than eight hundred men. Rheged, I thought, had best be generous with their manpower.

But like the rush of rain that follows those first droplets upon a hillside the raindrops began to form streams. More horsemen came, in ones, twos and even a dozen at one point, shouting their pleasure to have reached the column.