AERON'S FLAME

An excerpt, Arthur's first Command.

An excerpt from The Flames Of Aeron.

"Always leave the opponent a way out. It is easier to deal with a broken and fleeing enemy, than with a desperate foe with no hope. A desperate man will fight to the death.”

“Move as the wind, Strike with lightning and thunder.” ” Do nothing Insignificant, be decisive and direct.”

" Death is lighter than a feather, Duty, is heavier than a mountain. My soul, unto the mountain. "

Bedwyr, three years Arthur’s senior, repeated the maxims continually, as if desperate to believe them. Reciting them under his breath as they sweated, struggled and trained. The two of them had started their training at the same time though Arthur was at least two years younger than most of the other grunts, as the new recruits were called. Yet he stood a full head taller than even most of the veterans that relentlessly drilled them in maneuver, sword and shield, hours on the pell with sword as well as spear. Arthur had never worked so hard in his life. The 20 mile forced marches, walking all day with full kit and Mail was excruciating at first. Hardened by time at his small forge and the many days spent hunting deer. Along with moving heavy stones at Myrddyns whim. Arthur had noticed that none of the great henges had needed "adjustments". he was sure Myrddyn had him rearrage, and reposition stones simply to keep him occupied and to have quiet time from Arthurs continual questions.

Arthur soon adapted to the regimen, in truth, he excelled, soon becoming the favored leader during the training skirmishes with the veterans. His instructors took special notice when Arthur’s troops began winning consistently. The years of reading Caesars conquest of Gaul, and Hannibal’s campaigns in the Punic wars along with tales of Alexander and the march of the ten thousand, reinforced by Arthur’s charisma and fearlessness brought many victories. Arthur enthusiastically adapted and thrived in this new world. The Cave, and spring of Myrddyns forest home would forever be Arthurs favorite childhood home of the heart, the truth was, here, among the warriors, Arthur truly felt he had finally found his home, a home for both heart and soul. The hammer had always felt good to Arthurs hand, the sword, now that was another thing entirely. Then,their were horses. The horses stole Arthurs heart, their proud bearing, their swiftness, the feeling of power and freedom. These things nourished his soul. Companions, friends, expanded his heart. In all things, Arthur thrived and grew. Myrddyn watched, enthralled, proud as any father could be. Though, he was not young Arthurs father. The white raven observed it all, the task of forging the hero, and a true king was well in hand, Aeronwen was well pleased.

Screaming in terror the woman died, hacked apart by the sword and axes of Pictish raiders while the Angles were busy entertaining the men below the rath walls. The Angles had pulled back, drawing the men away from the rath, while the Picts had waited, scaling the earth walls easily once the men were engaged on the field below. The Picts went about their bloody work with a savagery. Gawain saw the smoke first, calling to Arthur and Bedwyr, he pointed. Cai called the company to a halt while the officers conferred. Deciding to investigate. Arthur dispatched Bedwyr with half of the companies mounted scouts. To spy out just what the smoke was about.

Less than an hour later, Bedwyr returned full gallop. He reported, ” Angles, at least one hundred. The rath is taken. They are finished there. “I think there are Pictii with them.” he stated flatly. Arthur was not going to allow this outrage to go unanswered. After confirmation, that the Angles were unmounted, light infantry, Arthur, knowing the terrain from over a year of patrolling and hunting, foolishly chose to divide his forces. Thinking the hammer and anvil tactic would suffice to defeat and disperse the raiders. Not his last mistake for that day.

The Angles were not caught unaware. They had planned and prepared a trap hoping to lure Brigante forces into a trap. Formed and battle ready they stood assembled, waiting before the broken gates of the smoking rath. Only the earth wall remained of the small hill fort. All of the wooden structures had been burned, fragments still smoldered here and there. The battle was short. Arthur led his men, breaking through the shield wall first, while ordering his men to wheel in support of Bedwyr’s following forces, The Pictii fell upon them from behind and flanking them. Slamming into Bedwyrs command from the rear. Suddenly, Arthur and his fifty men were enveloped by at least a hundred Angles while Bedwyr and his command were trapped by a like number of the Pictii.

Things were not going well. The Britons were overwhelmed. It was a disaster. Arthur’s first combat command, was being destroyed. Calling for withdrawal, telling his men to flee, Arthur desperately tried to disengage orderly and strike back,instead it became a route. Only a handful of the one hundred men Arthur had led into battle escaped alive. Cai, Arthur, Gawain and Bedwyr linked up, having fled into the forest. Lothian had plenty of forest. The combined Angle and Pictii forces pursued doggedly, tracking, hunting the survivors down.

Two days of running and hiding had led Arthur and his friends to the shrine of the sword. Now abandoned, the massive stone, with Caladwylch embedded in it, had been excavated years before in an attempt to move the wonder. It had been discovered that the stone was in fact, the capstone of a large cromlech, a nemeton, ancient and sacred. The earth had been cleared away revealing the three upright stones, supporting the massive capstone. Fearing the wrath of the Y Tylwydd Teg, the good folk, all work was halted, though offerings of butter, honey, barley, beer and mead were often left there now. Caladwylch flashed, shimmering with it’s own light, ensconced in the great capstone.

Arthur Scrambled up onto the cap stone. His friends followed quickly behind him as a combined group of Pictii and Angles surrounded them. It was a good place to stand and die. Fitting for a song. At least a score of the Pictii and Sassanach had had found them. Using their long spears the Angles thrust and stabbed while the Pictii held back. Their short spears, swords and axes did not have the reach needed to get at the Britons. The Angles weapons had clear reach advantage.

Arthur slipped, twisting away from a spear thrust. Instinctively Arthur grasped at the sword to steady himself. The sword moved, coming free of it’s stone scabbard. Arthur gasped as he realized that Caladwylch was free, that he held the magnificent sword. None of the others noticed the sword that Arthur now held. Then four spear heads, neatly cut from their shafts, clattered onto the stone.

The Angles fell back dismayed. The Pictii, recognizing the sword, fled. Cai and Gawain seeing Caladwylch in Arthur’s hand, shouted ” The sword!” Bedwyr turning to see what was the matter, did not see the spear hurled by one of the Angles at his exposed back. Arthur did, Caladwylch flashed, and another spear head clattered onto the bloodied stone, along with Bedwyrs hand, still holding his Spatha.

Bedwyr stared wide eyed at the pulsing stump of his sword arm. Cai tackled him, while Gawain removed his tattered cloak. Arthur, not seeing what had befallen Bedwyr, leaped from the cromlech, laying about with Caladwylch. The Angles fell back. Wherever Arthur struck, he maimed or outright killed. The shields and mail of the Sassanach were no hindrance to Caladwylch's vicious cuts.

The white raven with her sisters, swept in cawing, assaulting the remaining Angles. The Sassanach broke and ran, following their Pictii allies, terrified, leaving at least a dozen dead men behind. Arthur looked about at the carnage, exhilarated, the battle madness slowly fading.

Arthur was heart broken when he saw what he had inadvertently been done to his best friend, Bedwyr. The white raven landed, hopping about cawing, she seemed to flow upward, expanding into the form of a beautiful red haired woman. Cai and Gawain backed away, afraid of magic.

As she approached, Arthur dropped to his knees holding up the bloodied sword to her, ” Help him milady.” He implored. She knelt beside the gray and fading Bedwyr. Cai and Gawain had been unable to stop the bleeding. Touching Bedwyrs wound briefly, she swept him up, easily lifting and carrying the wounded man murmuring softly to him, She walked into the cromlech and They disappeared. She had taken Bedwyr into the sidhe. Into the summer lands.

Cai knelt and began reciting Christian prayers. Gawain merely stared at the cromlech.