Читать книгу Arthur, King - William Speir - Страница 16

Uther was concerned as he rode at the head of the column of cavalry on the morning after they had left Din Eidyn. The messenger rode next to him as a guide. Wisps of fog swirled around the ground, and the rays of the early-morning sun created shadows all around, making Uther even more apprehensive.

As they approached the base of a ridge, Uther held up his hand, and the column slowed to a stop. They were near the southwestern border of Gododdin, and Uther knew that they should be close to King Ceretic’s men.

Two hundred and fifty cavalry against however many soldiers Ceretic has with him. My foot soldiers aren’t here yet, and most of them aren’t likely to reach this spot before nightfall. Did I act too rashly by setting off with just cavalry and not waiting for my soldiers?

Uther looked around. Where are Ceretic’s men? We should have encountered them before nightfall yesterday. Is this just a ruse? Is he testing my defenses? Or has he laid a trap for me?

Uther viewed the ridge in front of him. If I were Ceretic, I’d have my men on top of that ridge with archers ready to rain arrows down on me.

Uther shook his head in anger. I don’t know where Ceretic us, and my cavalry is exposed. I need to find high ground and make Ceretic come to me.

Uther remembered a long ridge two miles northeast of his current position. He turned his horse and led the column back the way they had come. A moment later, he heard a whistling sound coming through the trees behind him. Glancing back, he saw the arrows falling just short of his men.

“Archers!” A shout went up from the rear of the column.

Uther saw Ceretic’s archers on the ridge behind him. Just as I thought. If I hadn’t turned the column around when I did, we’d have been caught in his trap.

Uther urged his horse to gallop, and his cavalry followed him northeast to the long ridge where they’d wait for Ceretic’s men and the rest of Uther’s army.

The first companies of Gododdin soldiers arrived at the long ridge shortly before noon. Uther ordered them to take positions along the edges of the ridge and ordered the archers to the center.

He waited. More Gododdin soldiers arrived and were deployed in the woods on both sides of the ridge.

Merlin arrived with the soldiers from Din Eidyn by mid-afternoon.

“What are you doing on this ridge, my Lord?” Merlin asked when he reached Uther. “Where is Ceretic?”

“We encountered his archers on a ridge two miles southwest of here around mid-morning. They fired on us, but we were out of their range. I deployed here to wait for him. I have scouts looking for him in case he’s moved his men to swing around us.”

“One of the scouts from our northern border arrived just after you left Din Eidyn yesterday,” Merlin said. “He reported that he saw a large force of Picts moving south toward Gododdin.”

I knew that our enemies would see any fighting between our kingdoms as an opportunity to attack.

“Did the scout say where they were heading or when they’d cross the border?”

“No, my Lord.”

Uther was about to say something when he saw a lone Strathclyde messenger riding toward him.

“King Uther!”

Merlin looked down at the messenger. “What do you want with the king?”

“My Lord, King Ceretic wishes to speak with you,” the messenger replied.

“Through his army?” Uther shouted back.

“No, my Lord. In private. At a point halfway between your current position and where you found his archers this morning.”

“Will he be alone?” Uther demanded.

“He will have one person with him, and he requests that you do the same.”

Uther looked at Merlin. “I want you with me, Merlin.”

“You’re not going to meet with him, are you, my Lord?” Merlin asked, sounding shocked.

“He’s still a King of Britain, and we’ve been allies for years. I’ll speak with him in honor of our alliance and our past friendship.”

Turning to the captain of his cavalry, Uther said, “If we’re not back in an hour, attack Ceretic’s men and drive them back across the border. Give no quarter, understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the captain promised.

Turning to the messenger, Uther shouted, “Tell your master that I’ll meet with him. But if this is a trap, my men have orders to put your master and every one of his soldiers to the sword.”

“He understands that, King Uther. He waits for you at the rendezvous point.”

The messenger turned his horse and rode southwest.

Uther and Merlin reached the place where Ceretic waited for them. The King of Strathclyde stood next to his horse, and his companion was still mounted. Both men were armed, but neither had a hand near their weapons.

Uther rode forward, dismounted, and handed the reins of his horse to Merlin. Uther walked forward, and so did Ceretic.

Uther held out his hand in greeting. Ceretic hesitated, but then grasped Uther’s forearm.

“I wish I’d known you were coming, Lord Ceretic,” Uther said. “I’d have prepared a proper welcome for my western ally.”

“I’m not here as your ally, Lord Uther,” Ceretic stated.

Uther released Ceretic’s forearm. “So the treaties that we made between us as friends and as defenders of the northern frontier of Britain no longer mean anything to you, Ceretic? Bringing your army across my borders unannounced and without my permission violates those treaties and is hardly the act of a friend.”

“I’m not here as a friend either, Uther.”

“Then what are you here as?” Uther demanded. “You and I have been friends for years. We’ve fought at each other’s side, and we’ve protected each other’s kingdoms countless times. What could possibly have happened to make you suddenly decide to invade Gododdin?”

“You know perfectly well what happened, Uther,” Ceretic growled.

“I know that you and I had a difference of opinion at the Council meeting,” Uther stated. “If two people can’t disagree without it leading to war, then what’s the point of ever speaking with each other? What purpose does friendship, treaties, and shared victories serve if a simple disagreement can cast them into the dust?”

“The choice of High King is not a simple disagreement,” Ceretic snapped. “I support Vortigern because he’s the High King. You betrayed him by supporting Ambrosius. You betrayed me!”

“I never once betrayed you, Ceretic. I still count you as one of my closest friends and allies. If I’ve betrayed anyone, it’s Britain as a whole by not backing someone to replace Vortigern years ago. When you backed Vortimer and I didn’t, I didn’t cross my armies into Strathclyde to attack you. Why are you attacking me now?”

“Because I don’t like Ambrosius!” Ceretic shouted. “I don’t want our next High King coming from the southern kingdoms, and I don’t want another Roman ruling Britain.”

“The High King doesn’t rule, Ceretic,” Uther pointed out. “He serves the kingdoms of Britain as our commanding general in the field. He’s responsible for protecting us from our enemies. He doesn’t have the power to dictate how we govern our kingdoms. Ambrosius is a King of Britain; he doesn’t represent the Roman Empire or a return to the yoke of Roman Imperialism.”

“That’s not the point, Uther!”

Uther stared at him. “Then what is the point? Your prejudice against Romans? Is that why you’re attacking me now? Because I’m half Roman myself? What will that solve? Or are you just blindly following Vortigern because you think that you’ll be spared from what he’s about to unleash on the rest of us? Do you honestly think that Vortigern’s threat to call for help from his allies was an empty one? If Hengist, Horsa, and Colgrin attack the kingdoms that support Ambrosius, how long will it be before they turn their eyes to your kingdom? Do you think that Vortigern can control them once they’ve overrun and slaughtered the rest of us? Has he been able to control them up to now? Or has it been men like Ambrosius who have kept them back behind their borders?”

Ceretic glared at Uther, but his shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to agree with you, Uther,” he said glumly.

“Then don’t, old friend,” Uther said gently. “Agree to disagree. We want different men to be High King. That’s all. There are no quarrels between you and me. Don’t let a difference of opinion change that. You’re my ally and my friend, and our heirs will be allies and friends long after we’re gone.”

Uther held out his hand. Ceretic looked at the hand and then at Uther’s face. Nodding, he grasped Uther’s forearm.

Uther was about to embrace his old friend when he heard riders approaching. Ceretic released Uther’s arm.

“What treachery is this Uther?” Ceretic demanded, reaching for his sword.

“Wait, Ceretic,” Uther barked. “This is not my doing.”

Ceretic and Uther looked around, trying to see the riders. A moment later, three riders appeared behind Ceretic, and one dismounted as soon as he saw the two kings.

“Forgive me, my Lords,” the rider said approaching them. “Picts are pouring across the northeastern border of Strathclyde!”

“In what strength?” Ceretic demanded.

“Vast, my Lord. Thousands of them in three columns.”

“Where are they headed?”

“Here, my Lord.”

“Here?” Uther asked.

The rider nodded.

Another rider approached from the direction of Uther’s army. He dismounted and approached the kings.

“Lord Uther, Picts are invading Gododdin!”

“Are they heading here?” Uther demanded.

The rider looked shocked. “Yes, my Lord. How did you know?”

Uther ignored the question. “When will they arrive?”

“Four, maybe five hours, my Lord.”

Uther looked at Ceretic. “This is why our alliance and friendship are more important than a difference in opinion.”

“But why are they coming here?” Ceretic asked.

“Because this is where we are,” Uther replied. “They think that we’re fighting each other. All they have to do is surround us, and they can wipe out whoever is still alive after we’ve finished trying to kill each other.”

Ceretic’s face turned red with anger. “Those bastards!”

Glancing at Uther, Ceretic added, “This is your kingdom, Uther. What should we do?”

Uther stroked his beard and thought about the situation for a moment. He looked back toward the ridge where his solders waited, and then he looked back at Ceretic with a smile on his face.

“They’re coming here, right? They expect to see us fighting each other when they arrive. Let’s let them find exactly what they expect to find.”

The northern border of Strathclyde and Gododdin was a Roman wall known as the Antonine Wall. It had been constructed three hundred years earlier by the Roman Emperor Antoninus Pius to mark the northern border of the Roman province of Britannia. It was made primarily of timbers and earthworks, and thanks to years of weathering, it was now little more than a berm running along a ditch. The wall had flattened in several places, and the Picts used these places on their raids into Gododdin and Strathclyde.

Late that afternoon, six columns of Pict warriors converged along the western boundary that separated Gododdin from Strathclyde – nearly five thousand warriors altogether from four of the Pictish tribes that lived along Uther and Ceretic’s northern borders.

Their scouts had no difficulty finding the place where Uther and Ceretic’s armies were fighting. Bodies of the Gododdin and Strathclyde dead littered the ground as the hundreds of soldiers still fighting were in small clusters around the field. Near the center of the field, the Pict leaders saw Uther and Ceretic fighting each other to the death.

The Pict leaders ordered their warriors to surround the field, certain that the surviving British wouldn’t take notice of their presence so deep inside Gododdin, let alone their movements around the field.

The leaders watched the fight between Ceretic and Uther. Uther appeared to be pushing Ceretic back, but suddenly Ceretic used his sword hilt to strike Uther on the side of his head. Uther fell, and Ceretic ran his sword through Uther’s chest. Uther lay limp on the ground as Ceretic withdrew his sword.

“Victory for Strathclyde!” Ceretic shouted.

The soldiers still fighting around the field stopped and looked at their kings. The Gododdin soldiers, leaderless, knelt in a sign of surrender. The Strathclyde soldiers cheered their victory.

The Pict leaders gave orders for their warriors to advance on the field. They were confident that Strathclyde’s victory would be short-lived.

They could not have been more wrong.

While the Picts positioned themselves around the field, they failed to notice the two armies moving into position behind them. The bulk of Uther and Ceretic’s forces were still on the two ridges where they had been waiting for most of the day. Ceretic’s archers deployed south behind the Picts, and Uther’s cavalry moved to the north. It was the Picts who were now surrounded.

As the Pict warriors moved forward, the whistling of arrows was heard overhead. The Strathclyde and Gododdin soldiers on the south end of the field, including those who appeared to be dead and wounded, suddenly crouched behind their shields. Too late, the Picts realized that they had walked into a trap.

Ceretic reached down and helped Uther to his feet. “To your kings, soldiers of Gododdin and Strathclyde!” Uther shouted. “Rally to your kings!”

The Strathclyde and Gododdin soldiers on the field stood and formed ranks in the center of the field, surrounding the two kings. The soldiers behind the Picts attacked, and the Picts found themselves caught between two forces. Having no way out, they fought furiously against the soldiers from Britain’s two northern kingdoms.

Uther and Ceretic’s soldiers were well-rested, and they pushed the Picts back. The soldiers in the field attacked the rear of the Picts. Uther’s cavalry rode in from the north, killing the leaders of the Picts and driving the rest of the warriors into the middle of the battle. No matter how hard the Picts fought, they were no match for the Strathclyde and Gododdin soldiers. Ceretic’s archers sent wave after wave of arrows into the Pict’s ranks, and the spears of Uther’s cavalry impaled any warrior who got close enough.

As the sun sank low in the western sky, most of the Picts lay dead or dying on the field. What they thought would be a simple victory turned into a disaster. The few Picts who survived the battle slipped away in the night and returned to their tribes with stories about the ferocity of their enemies.

Uther watched the search parties working by torchlight to tend to the wounded Strathclyde and Gododdin soldiers. The bodies of the Picts were piled in the center of the field to be burned. This was necessary to keep wolves and other man-eating animals away. Wounded Picts were killed and their bodies dumped on the piles.

Uther was surprised and happy that the Gododdin’s losses were light, as were the Strathclyde losses – only two hundred dead between the two kingdoms. And according to the healers, most of the injured soldiers’ wounds were not life-threatening.

Uther visited the healers and saw Merlin’s three sons standing around their father as one of the healers worked on a nasty cut on Merlin’s left thigh.

“Merlin! What happened?”

Merlin winced as the healer cut away a jagged part of the wound. “My own stupid fault, my Lord,” he said through clenched teeth. “I knocked the axe out of his hand but missed the knife he was carrying.”

Uther looked at Merlin’s sons, who were part of his cavalry. Their clothing was bloodstained, but they appeared to be uninjured.

Looking at the healer, Uther asked, “Will he be all right?”

The healer nodded. “He’s seen his last battle, though. The cut will heal, but the muscles may never grow back properly. He’ll have a pronounced limp for the rest of his life and will have to walk with a staff. Riding and fighting will be nearly impossible. The leg won’t allow him to stay on a horse very well.”

Uther nodded, happy that the news wasn’t worse. “I guess your sons will have to pick up the slack from you,” he joked.

Merlin smiled, but the healer hit a nerve, and Merlin grimaced in pain.

Uther stayed for a moment, and then he continued checking on the rest of his wounded soldiers. Strathclyde soldiers were also being treated by the healers, and Uther saw Ceretic approaching to check on his men.

“Your plan worked perfectly, Uther,” Ceretic said.

Uther smiled. “If it hadn’t been for both of our armies being here, today might have been a disaster.”

Ceretic nodded. Looking around at the healers, he asked, “How are your men doing?”

“Better than expected. Yours?”

Ceretic looked grateful. “Your healers are treating them well. Thank you for that.”

“That’s what friends do, Ceretic,” Uther said softly.

Ceretic nodded, but then he looked away. Uther guessed that Ceretic still struggled with whether to view Uther as his friend.

Uther watched the funeral pyres being lit to destroy the bodies of the Picts. The wind blew toward him, and soon the stench of roasting flesh assaulted his nostrils.

Ceretic shuddered. “I don’t care if it is a sign of our victory, that’s the most awful smell in the world!”

“I agree. But at least it’s not the smell of the Picts burning our bodies.”

“As if they would. You know that they leave our bodies for the wolves and carrion-eaters while they drag the bodies of their own dead back to their tribes. God only knows why.”

“So we’re the more civilized?” Uther asked.

“Of course we are,” Ceretic snapped.

Uther looked around. Soldiers from Strathclyde and Gododdin sat together and celebrating their victory. The men gladly shared their rations with each other. On this night, they were one army, not separate armies from different kingdoms.

“Then why are we fighting against each other?” Uther pressed him, gesturing toward their soldiers. “Haven’t we proven today the value of our friendship? Would the day have gone as it did if we hadn’t been united against our common enemy? I’m not your enemy, Ceretic, and you’re not mine.”

“But Vortigern…”

“To hell with Vortigern,” Uther interrupted. “He’s not the issue here. Look, I’ll make it very plain. I won’t post scouts along my border with Strathclyde to watch what you and your soldiers are doing. You and your men may cross my borders at any time, and you’ll be welcomed as friends. I have no intention of fighting you. I hope that you feel the same way.”

Ceretic stared at Uther in the glow from the bonfires. Finally, he said, “What if Ambrosius calls on you to attack Vortigern?”

“Then I’ll attack Vortigern,” Uther replied. “But I won’t fight you, and neither will my men. And I’ll make sure that Ambrosius doesn’t order anyone to fight you.”

“And if he does?” Ceretic asked.

“Then I’ll stand between you and them, and they’ll have to get through me to get to you.”

The two kings stared at the bonfires for a while.

“I still don’t like Ambrosius,” Ceretic said.

“No one’s asking you to,” Uther said. “I’m only asking you to remember our friendship.”

The next morning, the two kings met again. Most of the Strathclyde soldiers had already set out for home, but Ceretic and his escorts remained behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, Uther. You say that you won’t fight me and my men. Well I won’t fight you and your men. I’ll put our alliance first before all other loyalties.”

The two kings embraced. Ceretic mounted his horse and smiled at Uther. “You’re a better friend than I deserve, Uther. Thank God for that!”

Ceretic waved and rode away to catch up to his army.

Uther returned to Din Eidyn the next day, and Ygerna and Arthur were there to welcome him home. He spent time with them both, and then sat down to prepare letters to Ambrosius, detailing what had happened with the Picts and describing his conversations with King Ceretic. Once the letters were finished, he gave them to a messenger, who left Din Eidyn and rode south immediately.

That evening, Uther dined with Ygerna in their private chamber.

“I’m impressed with the way you handled Ceretic, my love,” Ygerna said.

Uther smiled and put his hand on hers. “I wish I could have that conversation with the other kings who still support Vortigern. At least Ceretic was receptive. I’d hate to think what would have happened if the Picts had found us actually fighting each other.”

“We should celebrate your victory, don’t you think?”

“What did you have in mind, my dear?” Uther asked. “A banquet? A holiday?”

Ygerna smiled. “No. I was thinking about trying to have another child. One hardly seems enough. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Uther smiled. “You have the most wonderful ideas.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. What a perfect way to celebrate this victory.