The Splintered Kingdom (Conquest #2)

‘Sceld,’ I said to the boys. ‘Bringath me sceld.’


Cnebba hurried away while Snocca passed me a wooden bottle filled with water. I took it and drank as quickly as I could manage; the liquid spilled down my chin and the front of my hauberk, and when I’d finished I tossed the empty vessel aside.

Knights flocked to their lords’ banners, their horses snorting impatiently. Among them were men of all ages: some so young they must have only recently taken their oaths, their eyes eager and filled with the battle-hunger; a few much older than myself, many of whom were missing ears or fingers and whose faces were lined with the scars of campaigns past.

‘What’s your plan now?’ a familiar voice growled. I turned; it was Berengar. His face was flushed and he was nursing a fresh cut, bright and glistening, that ran across his cheek just above the line of his jaw. At least that showed he had been making himself useful, rather than hiding behind the spear-arms of other men.

‘Now we take the fight to them.’ Waving to those men who had been with me in the charge earlier, or as many of them as were left, I shouted with hoarse voice: ‘Conroi to me!’

As they were driven back to the slopes beneath the ridge, however, the Welshmen began to rally. The strength of the charge lies mainly in its speed and the sudden force it can bring to bear, but against a tightly packed formation it can quickly fail. Having recovered from the shock of the opening collision, the enemy now closed ranks and locked shields against Earl Hugues’s knights, forcing them to abandon the attack lest they became surrounded. The Normans peeled off, back down to the level ground on the valley floor, to where the Wolf was marshalling the rest of his host: his five hundred knights, to which we could now add the fewer than three hundred that at a glance I reckoned I had left to me. Eight hundred at most, then, against an enemy numbering probably twice as many. Somewhere amongst them had to be Lord Robert. I wondered where all the Wolf’s foot-warriors were, and then glanced to the north and saw ranks upon ranks of shield-bosses and spears coming to join us, albeit still more than a mile off. The enemy must have seen them too, and realised that they had to make use of their advantage now if they were to stand a chance of defeating us. Once more they came, this time hurling their entire force into the fray, spilling down the hill in pursuit of Hugues’s knights as they broke off from their charge.

‘Defend the wolf banner,’ I cried. ‘Go, go, go!’

What remained of our raiding-party had marshalled by then, and I waved to them, urging them on, directing them towards the left wing of the Wolf’s army where the lines looked thinnest and in desperate need of reinforcement.

I was about to spur Nihtfeax on and follow them when out of the corner of my eye I saw Maredudd and Ithel riding towards me, having gathered together those of their hearth-troops that were left. Both looked weary; their faces and hair were streaked with dirt and spattered with the blood of their foes and some that might have been their own, but there was a determination in their eyes that I had not seen before.

‘Stay together,’ I said. Men raced past us on both sides and I had to raise my voice to make myself heard above their shouts and the hammering of hooves. ‘As long as we manage that, we stand a chance of making it through this day with our heads still attached to our necks.’

Ithel shook his head fiercely. ‘We will not get a better chance than this to slay the usurpers, those defilers of law and of the Church, those stealers of kingdoms. They have denied us our birthright for too long!’

‘No,’ I said. ‘If you and your retainers break away to go after Rhiwallon and Bleddyn, you’ll not only be riding to your own deaths but risking our skins too. All we need to do is hold off the enemy until Earl Hugues’s spearmen arrive to bolster our ranks.’

‘We came seeking the help of your earl, Fitz Osbern, to drive them out of our lands, out of Wales,’ Maredudd put in, his tone less impassioned than his brother’s, though he sounded no less determined. ‘This is the day for which we have been praying for seven long years. We will not be denied.’

‘We will drive our swords into their bellies and rip the hearts from their chests,’ Ithel added before I could so much as get a word in. ‘We will throw their corpses to the dogs to feed on and carry their heads as trophies to show to their vassals in Mathrafal. We have vowed to kill them and we will do it today, in this valley, here in Mechain!’ He turned to his retainers. ‘Ni ae lad wynt!’

The Welsh horsemen, of which there were perhaps two dozen, roared as one. Perhaps some of them had been drinking in the lulls between the fighting, or perhaps their blood was already up after the killing of their fellow warriors, but whatever he had said, it was enough to stir the battle-rage within them.