We had argued so much over the plan, particularly with how the men I would take up the hill should be used.
Lancelot had argued that my men should be used as a block. Instead of running down to the battle we should run down to the base of the valley to stop the Angles from reinforcing the Scotti, and securing the base of the valley. Dirandon had argued that either Owain's army could be overwhelmed, as it would still severely outnumbered, and that if they did force the win the Scotti would simply run straight into the backs of me and my men.
Having shot down Lancelot, Dirandon had proposed the next idea. I should do what I did best: raid. Take the hill, go down, throw some fire into the huts and run like hell. Leaving a trail we lead them away for Owain to do what he did best, ambush them on a place of his choosing. Take the Army apart piece by piece.
That idea got a lot of traction, and it was Owain himself who had vetoed it. 'We have one chance,' He had said. 'To hit them when they don't know that we're here. We need to hit them as hard as possible. Even if I was to wipe out one of the armies that chased us, I would still be outnumbered two-to-one by the remaining one. The place of our choosing is the valley where they are now, and where they are least expecting trouble.'
Dagonet had suggested that we shouldn't fight at all, just either accept Gododdin was lost or put a banner on a hill and wait for reinforcements. That idea had produced a growl from most of the war council, over half of whom were Votadini of Gododdin or Gododdin descent. There would be no fall back.
Aglovale, a Powysian, had been strangely tactful. He had agreed with Dagonet, but thought we should withdraw to raid the Angle ships. When they heard there was no escape they might panic and do something stupid.
'Or they might dig in even deeper, knowing they had no escape.' I had pointed out. 'Leave their ships alone, if they think they have an escape they will be quicker to use it.' Owain had agreed with me, reminding everyone his choice of battleground was the valley at the base of the hill.
'If we can get into the valley.' He explained enthusiastically. 'Their numbers will count for very little. We can hold them, and then trust Pellinore to sally out and attack their flank. Once that happens, their shield wall will break and they're finished, no matter how many they are. We need just need to get into the valley. We will fix the Scotti, then Owain will rush down from the hill. If we hit them together, they won't stand. They will break and we can follow them into the valley.'
Everything had gone swimmingly to plan, but now everything seemed buggered, because before us an army was pouring around the edges of the stockade to form up. Those stragglers from Dirandon's men who had no escaped in time were cut down viciously, and men laughed as they mutilated them in front of us and we stared in stoic horror at the scene in front of us.
I could hear laughter coming from the enemy ranks. That's rarely heard in the shield wall unless a lot of alcohol had been consumed, and perhaps it had been for it was reasonably late in the day now. But it must have been hilarious to them how few men we were.
Owain, who had reached me now, looked stricken. 'Can we reach the hilltop?' He wondered aloud. Shield walls were notoriously slow to come together, if we could withdraw to the top of the hill the enemy would find themselves besieging two hilltops and that would be nigh impossible. But I inclined my head towards the hilltop and Owain spotted what I had seen, and what I was beginning to see, which was more men appearing.
'I've never done a fighting withdrawal before.' Owain said with forced calm. 'I can trust you with the rearguard?' It was a death sentence, I thought. But we were dead anyway, some of might escape but we were dead. We would never rescue those beleaguered souls atop the hill, my love. Would she kill herself to save herself the rape? No, I thought, she would want to go down fighting. I only hoped she died before they could force themselves into her tender flesh though I remembered with painful fondness. I felt empty. I said nothing. I just nodded. But then it became irrelevant.
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Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur
Historical Fiction"Strangely, I did not move for a moment. I just accepted death with a reluctant peacefulness. I knew I was about to die and there was nothing I could do about it. I did not even have a sword in my hand, for I had kept my arms free while running. I c...