Crown of Vengeance Page 55

  Though the words were polite, the tone was unmistakably accusing. Aelfric stifled his anger as best as he could. There was no time for pretensions, even though Aelfric expected Godric to suspend his usual arrogance in the face of the deadly wave sweeping towards all of them.

  The man being addressed inclined his head. About an inch taller than Aelfric, but more slender of girth, Godric put forth a regal posture about himself, even though he held no throne. His cold, calculating eyes never appeared to look at a person directly, and his small mouth seemed forever set in tension.

  Aelfric neither liked Godric nor wanted to have to depend upon him in any way. Godric was beholden to nobody, and the detached weighing of interests would seem to favor the greater strength and wealth of the western lands. Despite the inner misgivings that Aelfric felt, it was undeniable that Godric occupied a most important position in relation to Saxany’s current situation.

  A substantial fortress belonging to Godric guarded the territory to the immediate south of where the narrow passage of land from Ehrengard to Saxany opened out onto the Plains of Aethelney.

  Godric had always enjoyed engaging in solid trade with both Saxany and its neighbor, Ehrengard, a benefit that still continued as his lands were alloidal. A few small farming villages and a smattering of homesteads existed within his free-held land, which was not under the direct authority of either kingdom.

  The trade with Saxany was still dangerous for Godric to undertake, as the Saxan lands were currently being barred from transacting commerce with anyone who did not wish to be deemed an enemy of the Unifier.

  That Godric still traded with Saxany was the very source of Aelfric’s lingering hopes. Perhaps Godric would honor the kingdom that had made his land holding possible.

  There was also a certain irony to all of it, one that Aelfric had not missed in the least. As Godric had increased his trade with Ehrengard, he had kept the trade with Saxany more discreet. The irony was simply that Ehrengard had once been an outright enemy to the specific King who had first bestowed the lands that Godric now occupied.

  Godric’s lands, as Aelfric knew, hailed back to a heroic and honorable lord of the Fourth Era of Ave’s history, Conrad the Ironheart. Conrad the Ironheart had rebelled in those days against the unstable, continuously agitating nobility of Ehrengard. It had all transpired during an age when the lands of Saxany were two separate kingdoms. Fleeing eastward, Conrad had sought refuge, beseeching the ruler of the former southern and eastern kingdom, Clovis II.

  Not only refuge had been granted, but lands with nominal suzerainty had been given over to him. They were part of the greater buffer zones on the western edge of the southern kingdom, located just to the south of the primary Western Marches. The dominion over that land had evolved into a freehold by the time that the two realms had been united into the Kingdom of Saxany.

  Godric, however, was not of the line of Conrad the Ironheart. He had been the most senior among the household warriors of the last direct descendent of Conrad’s line, a man named Pepin. He had claimed to have been given the inheritance by Pepin, though no written charter had ever been produced to confirm the claim. Strengthening Godric’s position, most of the prominent warriors surrounding Pepin had supported his assertion.

  King Alcuin, out of a strong-held belief in honor, had taken Godric at his word. Even so, the circumstances of Pepin’s death had been shrouded in dark rumors, a point that had never faded out of Aelfric’s mind or suspicions.

  It was a point driven further home within Aelfric when Godric had subsequently purged a small number of Pepin’s household warriors. Aelfric had regarded all of the purged warriors to be good and decent men, and the purge had left a bitter, black taste in Aelfric’s mouth; and a potent, lasting suspicion.

  Yet it was not Aelfric’s place to question his king, no matter what the thoughts were that went through his own mind. Those thoughts had never seemed to ebb, though, and were brought back to the forefront whenever Aelfric looked upon the darting, shifting gaze of Godric.

  “Yes, Ealdorman Aelfric. I received your request. I could see that my presence here was of some importance to you. I came with haste, as we all know that there is little time to spare,” Godric replied politely, though his offered smile held little warmth in it.

  Aelfric held back his first verbal inclinations, his jaw tightening for a moment as he maintained his composure. The snide attitude wafting off of Godric was more than irritating to the Saxan Ealdorman.

  “Good, then we can all speak together, immediately, as you are right, Godric, there is very little time to spare,” Aelfric said tersely. He looked gravely towards the others gathered around him, regarding their stern faces for a moment. “The Unifier comes straight at us. He could not be more direct, or confident in His approach. He intends to be as a great hawk diving onto its prey. From everything that we have heard and come to know, the enemy means to break us through the use of brute, overwhelming strength.

  “Ealdorman Morcar has placed a force under one of his most trusted senior thanes, Aethelstan, to ward the mountainous forests to the northwest of the corridor of land between Saxany and Ehrengard. Only a fool leaves any possible path undefended, and that route is very inviting to a clever enemy leader. Indeed, there are some new reports that a second force has detached from the invader’s main body and is headed precisely that way. Ealdorman Morcar’s decision seems to be very wise, and full of foresight.

  “To the southwest, we seek the additional help of Godric for supplies, for possible refuge, and to keep something out there that the enemy will have to think about.”

  Aelfric then turned to look squarely at Godric, endeavoring to hold his eyes, though such was an impossibility with Godric’s constantly shifting gaze. The unsettling man blinked more than anyone that Aelfric had ever known.

  “Godric, I ask for none of your men, for it is Saxany alone that is being threatened by this invasion. King Alcuin does not wish to try to compel you to come openly into the war, especially as you are one of the first lying in the invader’s direct path. We ask only that you honor your lands’ long friendship with our Kingdom, and at the least remain neutral in this coming fight.”

  Aelfric then paused for a moment, to see whether or not Godric would try to make some sort of gesture. His eyes carefully scanned the other’s face for some type of indication as to his disposition, coming up quite empty amidst Godric’s stony expression.

  “As it is, Godric, your fortress and your land are still under threat from the Unifier … that is, if you wish to remain free and the lord of your lands. We can ill afford any shifts in loyalty … such that you might come out openly on the side of the Unifier,” Aelfric then said firmly, bringing his greatest concern out into the open.

  He waited for the words to sink in to Godric and all of those assembled within the tent.

  A fire welled up swiftly in Godric. A scowl crossed his face, and his dark eyes blackened further in anger. When he spoke, his voice was one of barely suppressed indignation. “You mean to question my loyalty? Our land has always been a loyal friend to yours, ever since Conrad the Ironheart, and your nobles have always profited from our friendship. Why should I be different in a time of struggle? Do you have reason to think that it would change now, just because there is a different bloodline ruling over the land bequeathed by Clovis II? Remember that my family has always served the line that received this grant of land from your King Clovis ages ago. Make no mistake, Aelfric, we have been there ever since that day.”

  “As a man of honor, a certain degree of loyalty cannot change, at least as far as remaining neutral and not becoming hostile to us,” Aelfric replied rigidly, his hardened gaze straining to hold the other’s eyes as he aimed to make his point patently clear. “I tell you again, I do not ask you to fight, Godric, but we must never mistake your intentions. You must give us assurances that you will keep your fighting men inside of your fortress. Do not let them emerge in formation for any reason during the coming battle. If th
ey do, the honor of your land is forfeit, and if we emerge from the doom that the Unifier intends, then, by the All-Father, I will hold you to account myself.”

  “Your intent is clear. You disregard my word,” Godric gritted angrily, his teeth clenched tightly in his rising ire. “King Alcuin would not question our honor.”

  “And I will not, if your men remain behind the walls,” Aelfric iterated doggedly, inviting no further argument. “Once this fight is over, I shall hope to apologize for any offense that I have given you, and to share the King’s full faith in you. As it is, I am the senior commander of this great army gathering for the defense of our homelands, and I can ill afford to take any chances with the coming war. Our position must be made clear.”

  “Then I look forward to your apology, for you judge me wrongly,” Godric said spitefully.

  “I shall look forward to delivering it,” Aelfric returned without a moment’s hesitation. Inside, he was more than willing to render an apology, with absolutely no misgivings, if Godric was something other than what Aelfric’s instincts loudly proclaimed him to be. “I now bid you well, and wish you a safe return back to your land. I shall make sure that you are informed of our movements, to the best of my ability. See that you take stock of foodstuffs and goods, for we may have much need of trade with you. I assure you that you shall be well compensated for any supplies needed. Even should you ask an excess, there shall be no hard feelings during this time of risk and emergency.”

  Godric did not reply, his wavering eyes drawing as near as possible to locking in a hardened stare with Aelfric. The tension was palpable, thickening considerably in the air within the tent, as Godric was unable to match the steady, calm look of Aelfric’s own eyes.

  With a curt bow, the other turned and stormed out of the tent. His leather boots drove heavily into the ground with each step, as if to accent his great displeasure with Aelfric.

  Aelfric waited a few moments, and then slowly turned his attention back to the throng gathered around him in the tent. Now clad in cloaks and tunics, they would all soon be donning iron helms and coats of mail for the coming fight. Scarred veteran and fiery youth alike, they would all have one common, numerous, and mighty enemy.

  Some among the Saxans gathered knew the use of siege engines, and others were experts in cavalry tactics. Others were well-versed in their knowledge of infantry, and there were a couple of men present especially skilled in the use of sky-steeds.

  Aelfric was under no illusions. It would require all of them at their best, in order to have any chance of protecting the Plains of Athelney; the western gateway into the Saxan lands.

  A Saxan army had never before, in the entire history of the kingdom, or the two that had preceded it, mustered in such power and numbers. The duress of the circumstances had never been greater.

  Some good fortune was with the Saxans, in that most of the primary force had arrived safely, and was already in place. At the least, and it was no small matter, the Saxans were no longer facing the danger of having themselves caught unprepared before a full gathering and deployment could take place.

  The lines of age were now creasing Aelfric’s face with greater prominence and frequency. It surprised him little, especially in the midst of strenuous times such as he was now facing.

  He slowly ran his right hand through his gray streaked, long hair, pulling it back from his face. The locks were beginning to thin, and his hairline was sitting a little higher up on his forehead. As much as he set his mind against the ravages of age, there was only so much that he could do.

  His aching back and knees betrayed what had once been an exceptionally strong, and nearly indefatigable, body. Still able to wield his blade with considerable force and ample skill, he was certainly far from being an invalid, but he knew that he could not sustain his energies as capably as he had in the past.

  The thoughts, at one time, would have been enough to depress his spirits, were it not for one lingering realization.

  One aspect about him had gotten stronger and sharper with the years. It was an attribute that was far more valuable to those around him than the presence of another thousand soldiers would have been.

  That attribute was the quality of his mind.

  A growing reservoir of experience and wisdom to draw from, his mind was an asset that he never would have fully appreciated in his younger days. It was the one part of him that became more valuable, as long as he allowed it, with each passing year. It was a weapon that he would now have to draw upon mightily in the face of the unholy storm coming down upon all of them.

  Monks had taught him to read as a youth, on the resolute request of his father, the former Ealdorman of the Wesvald, Cynegils. It was a skill that brought ever more rewards throughout the years.

  Since he had learned the immensely valuable skill, Aelfric had pored over many of the parchments that were assiduously stored and cared for within the monasteries of his home province. The rich histories and insights of past warriors, learned clerics, and even kings of long ago had been opened up to him. It had never ceased to amaze Aelfric how many situations and dire challenges in those ancient ages closely reflected those of his own time.

  The monastery at Jafarne possessed one of the most prized libraries in any of the kingdoms. The preeminence in its holdings was not a lightly held status.

  Among monasteries, there was a constant flow of requests for loans of books and codices, mostly so that the borrowed works could be copied before they were returned.

  Works of great prestige brought grand renown to the possessing library, and conflicts sometimes erupted as monks went to incredible lengths to get their hands on such works. Finding a rare, desirable work was not unlike finding a new vein of silver to mine.

  Abbots and bishops alike scoured the lands both home and abroad thoroughly for particularly special works, and neighboring monasteries often quarreled over the status of works still not returned between them. Many a book carried its own inscription conveying a staunch admonishment for the reader to return it promptly when finished. Quite often such admonishments took on the tone of a curse.

  A great library resulted in a population of monks of high erudition, including the large numbers of visiting monks that such a site attracted. Spending time at Jafarne had resulted in a wealth of opportunity for Aelfric to engage in many lengthy discussions with some of the most learned monks in the land. Those times had enhanced and added to the experiences and lessons learned in the other aspects of his life.

  There had even been an opportunity to engage in dialogue with Abelard the Venerable, regarded as one of Ave’s greatest minds. The esteemed scholar had been visiting the fabled monastery at Jafarne just seven winters prior. It had been an influential encounter, for in that one day Aelfric had learned to appreciate the ability to forcefully consider, and effectively argue, both sides of any given topic.

  It was an art that converted very well to war planning, and the conception of a campaign. The method now helped him immeasurably, to wisely consider all the possibilities inherent with the preparations, to choose the courses that would best confront the coming invasion. That one day, and singular lesson, had been a remarkable treasure that added greatly to Aelfric’s accumulation of knowledge gained throughout the years.

  Although there was no way of foretelling what was to come, he found himself relieved that he had endured the oft-times arduous task of learning. Most warriors discounted the importance of letters and erudition, but Aelfric had known from an early age that he had been patiently sharpening a new type of blade, on a distinct type of whetstone. Every experience, whether a day spent at one of the monasteries or within his hall, or traveling through Saxan lands, became a new part of that growth and effort.

  It was now a time to apply everything contained within him, in a way that was much greater than anything that he ever had need of doing before.

  The levy summons had gone very well, far more smoothly than Aelfric had anticipated. The army would also be very well
supplied for several weeks to come.

  The Saxans were now in a prime position to offer battle, at a strength that Aelfric knew would be unexpected by the enemy.

  “My brothers in arms, what can we expect?” Aelfric queried the gathered thanes, counts, and other leaders rhetorically. “This is no regular force that comes at us. Ehrengard, Avanor, and lands yet unknown are marching against us. The borders have become so dangerous that very little word reaches us, but if my guesses are right, we will fight against many methods and strategies of war.”

  “Methods?” one of the thanes near to Aelfric asked, echoing the quizzical looks appearing on the surrounding faces. “What can we know other than what kinds of armies gather against us?”

  “We have heard word of unusual ships… very large ships from a faraway land. Men shrouded. Men with darker skins. Men of a different faith. Great numbers of strange beasts, with large humps on their backs. I can only believe that they come from the far north … from the Sun Lands, or lands held by a similar people. I only know what I have learned of some accounts that have been taken of such people and written down. … These records cannot tell us everything, but they can still warn us of some things that may come … that is, if we are wise to what is available to us,” Aelfric stated, letting the words sink in to the ears of the attentive men. He then added, “And what is available to us can give us some insight into all the elements arrayed against our lands.”

  He then proceeded to comment at length regarding his carefully read accounts of distant wars in former times, taken from the histories fastidiously guarded in the libraries, and reproduced painstakingly in the monastery scriptoriums.

  Aelfric had read the main chronicle of the conquest of Norengal, as well as a few accounts concerning other battles within that large Avanoran campaign.

  A copy of a treatise on military theory and strategy, written by a great emperor of Theonia, had also been found in the monks’ library at Jafarne. It had referred to many battles in the northern Sun Lands, regions that had seen the constant ebb and flow of great wars all throughout the long ages.