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"The so-called king of Wessex, Cerdic, sent his son Creoda with Cutha to demand a place in Rheged's council. If Creoda had been successful, the Saxons could have established a base of operations right here in Caerleul. From the borders of Rheged"—the pointer swept across an immense stretch of land begi
Low murmurs buzzed like angry hornets. Even Conce
"The hill forts along this whole line must be refortified and quickly. Emrys Myrddin, I would ask you to ride south to Caer-Badonicus to oversee the defenses. The experience you garnered in Constantinople may well prove invaluable to us, erecting defenses at the summit of the hill."
"How can we be certain the Saxons will meet us there?" Conce
Artorius favored him with more courtesy than Bre
"By cutting their supply lines here and here"—the pointer flicked across the map—"we force the Saxons to scavenge off the land, and by moving and destroying supplies where they wish to go, we force them to scavenge in their own territory. And with all due apologies to Caer-Lundein," he added, "there simply isn't a great deal in Caer-Lundein to interest Aelle, not when Caer-Badonicus sits like a knife poised above Wessex, denying Cerdic the expansion he and his Saxon masters desire. They want the rich trading centers of Dumnonia and Cerniw. They want more than land, they want the ports that trade with Constantinople and Africa, they want Italian wines and silks from the east to cloak and gown their women."
Most of the men in the room glanced involuntarily toward Ganhumara, resplendent in her own silks. She smiled, preening under the attention. Artorius scowled and cleared his throat.
"Aye, the Saxons want silk, and they want amber and furs from the north, as well. They've already struck at ports along our eastern shores which can provide them control over that northern trade. They want the tin mines of Cerniw, to control the smelting of bronze which we sell as far away as Constantinople itself. And they will try with great desperation to take the iron mines of Rheged, Galwyddel, and Dunoting, which I am certain is the reason they tried to force our hand over Rheged's council. The Saxons need iron for weapons and the great iron mines of our northern kingdoms are rich plunder for them."
He glanced at Covia
He slid Caliburn home with a ring of steel.
"We know their strategic targets and why they must take them. What remains to be done is to bottle them up in the south and to do that, we must stop them at Caer-Badonicus. You have pledged your fighting strength, your sons, and yourselves. Return to your homes as quickly as you may ride and send your men to me. I will write out a plan of rendezvous and send it with each of you, that we may waste no time in forming up the march south. Emrys Myrddin, will you ride with the kings of Glaste
"Gladly."
"Then if there is no further business before this council, I suggest we move immediately to put our plans and resolutions into action. Cutha certainly will."
The priest who had opened the council hastily stepped forward to offer a final benediction, then the high council split into groups, neighboring kings meeting to discuss mutual assistance and movement of troops through their roads, while servants scurried like stirred-up ants to fetch baggage and alert the groomsmen that riding horses would be wanted within the hour.
Morgana remained seated, having made her own decisions about Galwyddel and Ynys Manaw, and simply held her young sons close. Bre
Chapter Eleven
The first report of disaster came before Ancelotis' manservant, Gilroy, had even finished packing for the journey back to Gododdin. Stirling, helplessly along for the ride in the unfolding political and military affairs of Britain, jerked around in startled surprise when a great bronze bell began to toll a clangorous alarm. An armed soldier appeared at the entrance to the council hall, moving at a dead run and escorting a boy of no more than thirteen, a ru
"The heart of Penrith!" King Meirchion snarled. "We should have hanged that Saxon bastard from the nearest oak! More's the pity you didn't cut his throat, Ancelotis, when you had him at your mercy, and host laws be damned. The Saxons certainly don't abide by them." He strode away, bellowing orders as the alarm bell continued to send its warning reverberating through the late afternoon air, the sound dropping through the open ceiling above the hearth like hailstones.
Artorius met and held Ancelotis' gaze. "I must stay here and prepare the campaign in the south. Meirchion could use your judgement and skill."
Stirling most emphatically did not want to leave Artorius unguarded, convinced as he was that the Dux Bellorum was the IRA's main target, but he didn't have much choice, since Ancelotis agreed at once.
"Aye," his host nodded, "I'll send riders to Gododdin to spread the word, to strengthen the forts and raise an army to send south. I'll take most of the cataphracti who rode with me from Gododdin and try to catch that Saxon bastard before he does more damage. Meirchion was right. I should have killed him."
Within minutes, Stirling found himself in the saddle once more, shouting orders to the narrow-lipped Sarmatian cavalrymen who had ridden with him from Caer-Iudeu. The combined cataphracti of Gododdin, Strathclyde, and Rheged thundered through the great fortress gates and left Carlisle behind in a sea of churned-up mud flung on house walls by nearly three hundred heavily armored horses. Stirling couldn't help the thrill of adrenaline through his veins, caught up as he was in the glittering midst of sun-struck armor, helmets, and spearpoints.
They followed the Roman highway south toward Penrith, a town deep in the heart of Cumbria, which Stirling had driven through on many a holiday. The Cumbrian mountains rose as a massive barrier to the west, lifting their craggy heads from the lowlands around Carlisle and marching straight south through the Lake District. It was less than twenty miles to Penrith from Caerleul's sandstone walls. At a gallop for much of the way, they covered the distance in just a few hours.