The village priest had been unimpressed with the loss of his Communion cups and heavy gold cross. Somehow it ended up being Cadwallon’s fault, and the Bishop had made his displeasure known. Of course, rumours surrounding Lucilius’ visits to the prioress of Polslo Convent did not help, nor did Yvor’s breaking the priests nose after he started throwing dung at them – that had cost him much of what remained in his purse.
King Erbin had been forced to publically reprimand Cadwallon, but privately noted that his dispositions had prevented fair worse consequences than the loss of a few pieces of fancy crockery. Still, he advised Cadwallon to steer clear of court for a while to let things settle down. Frankly, the further Lucilius was from the prioress the better!
So here they were stuck in an old border post watching the longer summer days slowly crawl by. Cadwallon had relied on Iago to escort their supplies from Exeter each week, but Lucilius had been growing increasing truculent. However, latterly, he had been diverted by leading a series of defensive patrols. Merchants had brought word of Saxon raiders and many of the peasants had already moved into the forest with their livestock.
Today seemed much like any other though, and as the sun peeped over the trees, Lucilius was due to return from his latest expedition. As Cadwallon strolled the ramparts to take the morning air and check on his sentries, he could just make out a small band of warriors emerging from the forest to the east. The dark column of men moved swiftly along the old Roman road, seemingly intent on getting back to camp as soon as possible to enjoy a warm breakfast and well-deserved rest.
As Cadwallon turned away to head back down the steps, a sharp horn blast echoed through the morning air, ‘To arms, to arms’ cried the British leader. Lucilius’ patrol was under attack. A band of Saxon raiders was sweeping down upon their flank.
Even with the patrol within sight, Cadwallon knew it would be a tight race to reach his men before they were overrun. Outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, he could see Lucilius forming his men into a rough shieldwall as the Saxons thundered towards them.
Cadwallon could already hear Iago ‘motivating’ their local volunteers into some semblance of order, and his loyal household troops were already on the move.
An endless stream of enemy warriors seemed to descend on the patrol, forcing them further and further away from safely.
Having blunted their charge, a gallant band of British warriors sort to hold the enemy, while Lucilius took the other half of his men south in a broad arc away from danger.
The ploy did not work, the enemy seemed intent on chasing down Lucilius rather than fighting his men. The main British force stood helpless as the Saxon warlord led his men on towards Lucilius’ small group.
It was a hopeless situation, angry and frustrated, Cadwallon could do nothing to reach the enemy in time and only a handful of the original patrol made it to safety.
Why had the enemy warlord seemed to be focused on the capture of just one man? What interest did he have in Lucilius?
31 December 2012, 07:16:44 PM