The Bretwalda (The Casere Book 4) (17 page)

Conn had ridden east until he had found the perfect spot. Like all of Kishdah, there was a spine of mountains that ran down through Himyar. Roads were few and far between and they tended to be surrounded by high mountains. Between the mountains were the villages and towns that prepared the fields, having carved them out of the mountains over time. They were waiting at a point where it was largely downhill from where they were to Himyar-jo. It was a perfect place to host an ambush.

Kolbert and Svenben had travelled with him. They had travelled light as Conn didn’t have the logistics support in Kishdah he had in Meshech, and both were finding sleeping in tents tedious.

‘I don’t understand, Himyar,’ Kolbert complained for the tenth time, ‘why you don’t have an inn here.’

‘I keep telling you, Saba, that there is no need for one. Half a day south is one, and half a day north is another. Stop complaining. I’m not enjoying it any more than you.’

When the folgere and the fyrd finally arrived up the pass and started to head downhill, they were surprised to be confronted by the Aebeling Svenben and a line of Himyar wiga. Behind them, slightly out of sight behind the many nobori fluttering in the breeze, were Conn’s Kerchian cataphracts in full dress. The location was tight; the roadway was carved between two mountains and on either side were steep, bare slopes. Accessible by men but uninhabitable by horse.

Svenben was nervously sitting on horseback ahead of the line, and he had Conn and a dozen men waiting behind him.

One of the folgere rode out.

‘Svenben, what is the meaning of this outrage. What do you think you are doing?’

‘Checking invitations to the party celebrating my son’s promotion as my heir. I didn’t invite you.’

‘Have you gone stark raving mad! There is no party – nothing to celebrate – in a matter of moments you will be executed for treason. I suggest you surrender so that your children don’t suffer,’ he smirked in his rage, ‘too much’.

‘I hate to disappoint you but neither is happening. I have some friends here to stop you.’

‘What friends, you imbecile. You are nothing, you have nothing…’

As he spoke, the nobori bearers started to march; they did a U-turn and marked down to the back of the fyrd as the cataphracts marched forward, their lances now raised high.

‘What ... who ... where are these wiga from?’ Conn quickly recognized that he wasn’t as shocked as he might have been, though he was suddenly nervous. That was confirmed by the noise in his head. It was not happy. The folgere recognized the wiga because he had been in Sytha.

‘They are Kerchian – and they belong to the Marquis of Kerch.’

Conn rode forward, taking off his helmet. ‘I think you knew that didn’t you, folgere. How did you escape Sytha? I thought I’d executed all folgere in Sytha.’

The folgere hissed as he saw Conn. ‘The feorrancund is here. You have no right to be alive…’ He then strangely smiled. ‘But we know who you are now… your end is near… my Gyden will have learnt through her sacrifice.’

‘Her sacrifice?’ Then it dawned on Conn. ‘You were in Pontia. Somehow you eluded me … and it was you that told the folgere in Pontiak that my daughter was in Kashi.’

He positively beamed. ‘Yes; it was because of me! Me! That is why we will be victorious…’ He stopped when he saw Conn smiling back at him. ‘Why do you smile, feorrancund? Have you no feelings for your daughter that offered herself to Ashtoreth through her acolytes – until she died. She would have suffered much because of you.’

‘You don’t know, do you?’

‘Know what?’

‘That she never made it to Kishdah. I rescued her in Aeaea, and I personally put to death every one of those that dared to lay a hand on my daughter. I slaughtered like rabid dogs thirty of your brethren, and I saw them bleed to death.’ Conn shook his head. ‘That is why you are in this forsaken place and not receiving the rewards that you think you are due, folgere, because I saved my daughter from your Gyden.’

As much as he refused to believe, he had no choice, because it made sense. He almost whispered. ‘They are all dead?

‘Yes, all of them, and all of those that chose to do their vile business in Saba-jo and all of thirty of them in Himyar-jo.’

‘You
murdered
them all?’

‘No, folgere. It is not murder. It is eradication. I promised your Gyden that if any one of her folgere ever touched one of my children I would kill you all. Ask her; she knows.’

As Conn spoke, other folgere had gathered at the side of the man that Conn was speaking with. Behind him there had been movement as the wiga responded to the presence of Conn’s cavalry.

The folgere nodded and then turned back to Conn. ‘Arrogance will be your downfall, feorrancund. Even now, you presume too much. You have, what, a hundred horsemen and you presume that you are equal to an Ancuman fyrd. You will die for that arrogance.’ He turned and yelled. ‘Kill them, kill them all. Every one of them must
die
!’

As the Ancuman fyrd surged forward, Conn’s cataphracts surged as far as him and then stopped. As they did arrows started to fall from the mountains; and as the wiga raised their shield to protect their heads, Conn and the cataphracts started to fire from the front. The main target was the folgere, and he saw his arrows strike more than one. After a two-minute barrage of arrows, drums signalled a pause, and Conn looked over the field in front of him where hundreds of wiga lay wounded. The fyrd had moved no more than fifty yards before grinding to a halt.

‘Did I not mention my five hundred Twacuman?’ Conn said mostly to himself as he rode forward. ‘Oops.’

The Ancuman wiga had quickly surrendered when they had the chance. These weren’t front line troops. Whilst there were some that had seen war – probably against him in Pontia. Most were militia or new recruits. Only a few were Axum fighting pairs, and even they recognized the futility of resistance. It also helped that the standard rules of war of the Ancuman didn’t seem to apply in Kishdah – here they could surrender and they weren’t theow.

Conn rode between the wiga as the Himyar wiga collected weapons and the wounded. Already his Kerchians had set up a field hospital tent and the wounded were being treated. Looking at the battle field, it didn’t seem that that many had died. He turned to a croaking voice. The folgere had pulled himself up; an arrow in his lungs and another in his arm.

‘Feorrancund! You have not won. You
cannot
win. Ashtoreth is the one true Gyden…’ he coughed up blood. ‘I am not finished with you…’

‘All I know, folgere, is that I have won today. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m happy to know that you won’t be there.’

~oo0oo~

Back some days later in Himyar-jo, all Conn could do was wait for Farrun. He had seen the five hundred Himyar wiga being led by Ingesten continue west to do a circuit of the island and they would be met by the five hundred men who headed east. In a lunar or two, Himyar should be back under Himyar control. There was little to do but wait. Luckily it shouldn’t be that long. Conn had been in Himyar for almost a lunar and it should take Farrun that long to collect his daughter. If it didn’t, things were wrong.

Sir Njil had already arrived, and preparation had been completed for the rapid loading and embarking of his fleet of ships.

He was eating with Sir Njil, Svenben and Kolbert when a servant rushed in.

‘Aebeling – another ship has arrived. It is an Axum vessel.’

Conn looked up; ‘What colour are the sails?’

‘Mostly while but one of the sails is brown.’

‘’With a gold sun?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it is Farrun; he has been able to complete his mission.’

Kolbert toasted him. ‘Cousin Farrun has done well to escape the clutches of his Axum enemies.’

Svenben was confused. ‘Where has your son been?’

‘He has been in Mende in Axum to collect his daughter.’

‘Your said his name is Farrun? Farrun is an uncommon name yet I’ve heard it mentioned once before. Is your son Farrun il Kinjan?’

‘Yes; but his real name is Farrun il Nobatia. How do you know of him?’

‘His bedda – the one that died – is a cousin of my bedda. There was quite a scandal about the whole thing.’ He paused. ‘So you intend that your son Farrun become Aebeling of Nobatia?’

‘No – not necessarily. He is to be the Jarl of Sala in Saba or the Jarl of Kinjan in Nobatia. He has enough on his hands, I think. I do have another son, Sarun who is probably going to be Aebeling of Alwa.’

‘You have yet another son with a claim to a demesne in the Southern Isles? Unbelievable! Just when things seem simpler, they get complicated again.’

‘Welcome to my life.’ Derryth offered as way of consolation.

~oo0oo~

They were standing at the docks when the long brown masked cog was finally tied up at the dock. It was not the vessel that Volund had departed with and there was sure to be a story behind that. It was much bigger for starters. On board were a bunch of beaming faces, including some he didn’t know, and as soon as she could, Asbera leapt off the boat and jumped into the arms of her father, squealing with delight.

‘There were days when I didn’t think we would meet again. I am so happy to see you.’

Gradually everyone disembarked from the vessel and Conn introduced them to the Aebeling; and they were reunited with Kolbert, Derryth, Wilric and Sir Njil. When Vilotta disembarked, she carried a little girl – who was just over two.

Vilotta bowed to Conn, and offered the child. ‘Arna, this is your grandfather, Conn il Taransay or something. He is the one who causes
all
the problems.’

Conn held out his arms and she agreed to be taken. ‘Nice introduction Vilotta. I gather you didn’t have a fun time.’

She smiled. ‘It was not so bad – given the circumstances. I’m amazed that she agreed to go to you. She had been very nervous all the trip.’ Arna was nonetheless quite happy snuggling into Conn.

Conn introduced Vilotta to the Aebeling and his bedda.

Svenben was impressed. ‘So you are the Jarl of Calpe’s daughter, and you are bedda to the Marquis’s son. I heard some story that he wasn’t going to part with you easily.’

She smiled back. ‘Sadly, my father played bluff with someone who doesn’t bluff – the Marquis paid a hundred thousand ryals as dowry.’ She whispered the last comment. ‘I’m flattered – and rich. I’m also very salty and dirty. May I impose upon your hospitality for a bath?’

‘Of course; I’ll arrange for someone to collect your bags.’

‘Thank you; that would be wonderful.’

The Aebeling asked his bedda to lead the way and, after she collected Arna, she followed.

The last to ascend was Farrun, Volund, and a middle-aged Twacuman. They walked up to Conn and Farrun introduced the older man. ‘Father, this is Aldkel. He is the second son of the chief of the ninth clan.’

Aldkel bowed. ‘Are you the Marquis of Kerch?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And you are the Feorhhyrde
?’

‘I have that honour.’

He smiled and bowed again. ‘We have waited a long time for your return, Feorhhyrde. I have brought men and women with me to aid you. We are all of the ninth clan. We are at your service.’

‘I thank you, Aldkel. I am happy to accept your service. How many do you have with you?

‘Exactly one hundred – fifty men and fifty women.’

Conn looked at Derryth, and nodded. ‘I have my fyrd in a camp just outside of the town. I would have you go there. They will make you welcome. It has over five hundred Twacuman from Iladion and Halani already there.’ He introduced Derryth and Wilric; ‘They will assist you.’

Aldkel bowed again. ‘As you will.’ He followed Derryth away, and a procession of tall and young men and women followed from the boat; each carrying their belongings in a backpack. They all bowed to Conn as they passed, and they hugged Elfrea as well – her beautiful smile lit up the deck.

Farrun watched them walk past. ‘That is the reason why we had to steal this boat – Volund was most distraught that he had to leave his precious ship behind – even though it leaked.’

‘I was devastated – I had that boat for years.’ Volund interjected.

‘I thought you got it last year…’

‘Lunars then … still I was attached to it…’

‘Didn’t you say you were going to burn it when you returned?’

‘Only bits of it… anyway I’m still upset. I think I need some wine to ease my concerns – and some feminine company.’ He begged their leave and led his men off to one of the local inns.

All this time Kolbert and Svenben had watched the exchange with curiosity and amazement.

‘What is all this about the ninth clan? Svenben asked. ‘I didn’t know the Twacuman had clans – or chiefs or anything like that.

Kolbert raised his hand. ‘That is something I do know the answer to. They are the clan that claims descent from the Marquis of Kerch. It seems that Mende is the home of the ninth clan.’

They turned to see Elfrea, and her beautiful smile. ‘Is that not true, Elfrea.’ She was never far away from Conn as she waited to be of service.