The King's Name (32 page)

I looked toward the command point, hoping to be ordered to charge, even though the turmoil below still looked terrible. It was so hard to wait for the right moment. I looked back to it and saw that some of our Segantians had broken and were running uphill. Ayl's troops on the bridge had attacked them unexpectedly from the side, which had been too much for them. Alfwin's men were fighting steadily and evenly, but clearly retreating, and so were Ohtar's. Some of Flavien's men, or so I assumed, for they were fighting under his snake banner, rushed forward in pursuit of the scattering Segan-tians. Then, at last, I saw Angas, leading his ala down through the massed infantry. They were going very slowly; there was no chance for them to build up the momentum for a charge. They were moving through Jarnish infantry, which I thought at first must be Ayl's or

Arling's, but then they raised their banner at last and I saw the silver swan of Cen-net. Guthrum had come, but not to us. After almost forty years of keeping quiet unless attacked, Guthrum had finally moved. Clearly his family ties to Angas had won out above those to Urdo. Maybe, like Ayl's, his own men had been so eager to fight that he could not keep them home. I ground my teeth and wondered what Rowanna would say to her sister when next they met.

Our troops were still retreating, at different speeds. The Bereichers had hardly moved at all, but the

Segantians and the Isarnagans of Dun Morr were well back. Flavien's militia were pursuing them wildly, but the Jarnish infantry were either engaging with Ohtar and Alfwin or advancing slowly
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and steadily. Right in the

center a group of them had come right past the retreating and disorganized militia. I looked desperately toward Urdo and the command post. It couldn't be long before Angas was through, even with all those troops in his way, and once they had an ala out there things would be desperate. If it had been my choice I would have been charging already. The ala were ready to move on a twitch.

After what seemed an age the command came. The trumpets blew the five notes of "I'm coming to get you"

and we charged right into them. The relief of doing it was tremendous, even with the wind blowing the rain right into our faces. This time the timing was exactly right. We hit them at the right speed and they broke.

Even Angas's ala retreated before us. I led my ala straight toward them, and they skulked away behind the infantry.

I don't know how many of them we killed in that charge. It was almost like Foreth again. I thought for a moment that we were going to knock them right back. We pushed them down into the valley bottom. Then

Atha and her Isarnagans came running down the hill to help. They were better suited to fighting on the broken ground than we were. Masarn and Cadraith stayed down to support them while Luth and ap Erbin and I rallied and prepared to go back to make sure the Jarnsmen we had seen before had not got any further up our hill.

Then came a great blast of trumpets from some ships that had been slipping unnoticed up the river, brought by the same wind that had brought the rain. They were flying the dampened banner of Munew, and they disembarked in good order, not far from us, below the bridge. Thurrig was there, and Custennin, and his young son Gorai, and a fair part of the levy of Munew, and Thurrig's fighting sailors. I sat and gaped at them for a moment, as the battle slackened around me. I signaled that we should wait for a little while. Nobody moved toward them. I did not have the least idea whose side they were on. From the look of things, neither did anyone else. Then I saw ap Erbin call up his signalers and deliberately raise their ala banner high. Gorai saw it and pointed excitedly, saying something to his father.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen; he looked far too young to be on a battlefield. I couldn't imagine what Custennin was thinking. The battle was still going on, but with the ala around me I could safely pay attention to the disembarking troops.

Thus I saw Marchel ride confidently toward her father. She was at the head of a pennon of Narlahenan horse.

Although I was behind her and away across the battlefield I saw by the casual arrogance of the way she held her head that she knew these troops were on her side. I drew breath to give the signals that would gather the ala to ride back and be ready to charge again. But Thurrig said something to a sailor by him. I saw the woman look at Custennin as if for confirmation. Young Gorai waved his arms enthusiastically. Then the red-and-green banner of the High Kingdom rose over the ship, and at the same moment Thurrig drew his ax with one smooth movement and stood waiting.

I didn't see what happened when they met, because a pair of maniac Jarnish monks threw a bucket of water over me at that moment, while shouting praise to the White God. I don't know what they expected to happen.

They and their friends had pushed and fought their way through to me, but the two with the water didn't even have any weapons. Cadarn killed one of them and I killed the other. The rest were dead already. I wasn't much wetter than I had been already, from the rain, but I was much angrier. When I looked toward the ships again everything was a confused melee.

I decided that it had wasted enough of my time. Luth and ap Erbin and I exchanged signals and
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headed back up the hill.

There was a disruption then as a great flaming ball fell in the midst of ap Erbin's ala. Ap Erbin and his horse were caught right in the heart of it. I don't know if the horse went mad or if ap Erbin did it on purpose. Unlike everyone else there, he and I had seen the fire before. I have always liked to think he had time to decide what to do. They ran clear of the ala without touching anyone else, making for Guthrum's line, near the flame machine. The enemy faltered and fell back before him, as well they might. His bones and the horse's bones shone through the fire, and his sword flashed blue as he brought it down one last time before his bones scattered as he fell.

Then Alswith raised a great cry of "Death!" She stood up in her stirrups and threw off her helmet, letting her long red hair loose. It did not fly out behind her as it had at Foreth; the rain flattened it to her head. Still, we all recognized it as the mourning sign it was.

Ap Erbin's ala, who really should have known better, followed her as she turned and raced back to the main part of the battle where the Jarnish shield wall was reforming. They were calling "Geraint," which was ap

Erbin's name, though he didn't like it and I never used it, and "Flamehair" and "Death." They fell on the flame machine and hacked it and the crew to pieces, and then set about hacking all around them with no discipline or order. This kind of thing is what Duncan always used to say would happen if husband and wife, or even lovers, fight in the line together and one of them is killed. In all my years of fighting this is the only time I have ever seen it. I'll agree it's reprehensible, but it's human, and I have felt the same when I have seen a friend killed. It might be possible, if cruel, to separate husbands and wives in the alae, but it isn't possible to fight only with people about whom one feels dispassionate. At the time I understood Al-swith entirely, and the rest of the ala better than I should. I had tears on my face and I missed ap Erbin already. Shouting "Death!" and laying about me blindly would have been such a relief.

Luth and I looked at each other for a moment, then I wiped my hand across my eyes and gave the signal to continue up toward the Jarnsmen who were harassing Ohtar and Alfwin, which was where we were needed.

Some of Ayl's troops from the bridge had met up with some of the advancing Jarnish troops, and I saw that

Arling was there. They were pressing our people hard. We took them on both sides, while our Jarnsmen stood firm against the enemy. There, even as my first pennon hit and their line wavered, I saw Walbern ap

Aldred, fighting in the Jarnish line but with Tanagan weapons.

I looked for Ohtar to see his reaction. He was among his men, not far back. He was taking off his armrings and giving them to his companions, who seemed to be protesting. Then he handed over his sword, sheath, belt, and all, and murmuring something to the man he gave it to. I heard afterward it was "Make sure this gets to Anlaf if it needs to, and don't disgrace me." Then, unarmed, he looked at the sky, and raised his hand to the bear's head on his cloak. His line stepped back a little, leaving him half a step ahead of them. Ayl's troops rushed into the gap, but almost as soon as they moved forward they were moving back again, tripping over each other in their hurry to back off. Quietly and calmly, without any fuss at all, Ohtar had turned into a bear, his great cloak billowing over his skin and his face pressing forward to become a bear's mask. It didn't seem the least bit startling at the time, merely inevitable. He was still Ohtar, he was just all bear now, and that was only how it ought to be. He stood fully four foot high at the shoulder; he was a great bear of the woods of Norland or Jarnholme such as had never been seen in Tir Tanagiri. He was taller than I am when he stood up on his hindpaws and roared. Ayl's men began to retreat in earnest then, even though Luth's ala were ready behind them.

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Then Walbern stepped forward from his lines and copied his grandfather's gesture. The two bears both rose on their hind legs, roaring and growling. Within seconds they were biting and buffeting at each other. The men of Aylsfa steadied and drew up their line again. Some of them even grinned and made rude gestures at the men of Bereich. I wondered whether to intervene, or how to intervene. There was no possibility of confusing the two bears. Ohtar was taller and darker. He seemed to be getting the best of the fight, too, though they both had blood on their fur. I happened to catch sight of Luth's astonished face over Ohtar's shoulder as I was looking and couldn't stop myself laughing out loud.

Ohtar somehow seemed to grow ever taller and more bearlike as the fight went on. It ended very suddenly, with Walbern dropping to all fours and running off through his own lines, setting off another panic there as he bowled over some of his former companions. Ohtar followed him, loping steadily after, striking out at men of

Aylsfa who tried to hinder him. Before long they were all in flight. Luth, wide-eyed and gaping, gave way for the bears, and they loped off toward the northeast, Walbern still ahead and Ohtar following.

Luth's ala seemed to be dealing well enough with the men of Aylsfa who had broken. The Bereichers gave a cheer and took a few ragged steps forward, but before they could do anything rash, Alfwin began shouting commands and they steadied their line.

There were those who said later that they found the bodies of grandfather and grandson among the slain. But nobody ever claimed to have found Ohtar's cloak, or brought any token of Walbern's back to his mother's kin.

—19—

She hewed him down, the hell-cursed woman, with Wulfstan and Wolmar, his shoulder companions, his faithful followers who long in life stood at his side waiting his word fallen before him led the way forward back from the battlefield down into death.

—"The Battle of Agned"

After Ohtar had gone and they had closed up again, we had a hard fight to shift the enemy.

After a while, when it seemed that we were winning for the time, I caught sight of Arling making a stand, his house lords around him. I gave the signal for each pennon to fight as seemed good to them and led mine in toward him.

That was when I killed Ayl, getting to Arling. I didn't mean to, and I've been sorry ever since.

Ayl was a friend, and I had broken bread with him, and he was a good man, for a Jarnish king.

Furthermore, we had to deal with his awful brother Sidrok for years after until his son was grown up. I didn't think of any of that then, only that he was between me and Arling. He stepped forward thinking that I would hesitate, and the look on his face as I pulled my sword out of his chest was comically surprised. I went on, laughing, and took down two more of Arling's house lords before we crossed swords at last.

He called himself the Lord of Jarnholme and Tir Tanagiri and High King of all Jarns everywhere, but the best I

can say of Arling Gunnarsson is that he was brave enough to stand still and fight back when it came to it. He did not flinch, though I was mounted and he was not, and though he knew he was doomed to die. I did not see the gods Ulf had named come to claim him, but I do not doubt they were gathered around him. I saw them in his eyes when he fell at last. Smitten, withered, spumed, hunted, blinded by his own folly, rent and slain, he died at last, drowning on his own blood. I left him to rot on the field.

Alfwin rallied his troops and Ohtar's, and they went forward now downhill with new heart, while the men of

Jarn-holme and Aylsfa faltered. I looked toward the command post for orders, but I could no
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longer make it out through the rain and mist. I sent a messenger for orders, and gathered the ala around me. I rode off uphill toward the wagon wall so that we could change horses.

Before I came up to it I began riding through fallen armigers and horses. The spear-hurlers and stone-hurlers had found their range here, and many of Urdo's Own Ala had fallen to them.

Everywhere were fallen friends. I

saw the doctors tending to Beris, who had a spear through her arm. A little way on up the hill I saw Masarn on the ground, wounded but still alive, with some of his armigers around him. Elwith signaled that I was needed, so I rode over and dismounted. I handed an armiger Brighteyes' reins and knelt in the mud by

Masarn.

His legs had been crushed by a great stone flung by a war machine. There was clearly no hope of survival.