Aethelstan knew that the strong-headed thanes would not come to any compromise on the matter, even if they knew that all could not go. To break the impasse, there was little other choice remaining than for Aethelstan to delegate.
Brooking no arguments in the matter, Aethelstan called for total silence. He then proceeded to select about half of the leading thanes from among those surrounding him.
Aethelstan then instructed the others that he had not chosen for the mission to see to the location of the most defensible positions. He then entrusted the map back into the care of an older priest named Father Wilfrid. Clad in a full-length, flowing, dark tunic, the priest had been standing quietly just in back of the Saxan thane.
The old priest nodded serenely to the great thane, as his weathered hands grasped the parchment. He gave Aethelstan a few subtle words of encouragement, barely above a whisper. Aethelstan returned the priest’s slight bow, and gave a warm smile in return, very glad for the man’s presence. The sight of the old priest always bolstered his spirits, as it did even at that very troubling moment.
The old man had held up very well over the tiring journey from Bergton, having taken extended leave of the church there to accompany the great many men from his parish who had been levied for the looming war. The elderly priest had not complained even once during the arduous travel, spending most of his time among the villagers and common men.
His presence alone had boosted their morale considerably. While it was held among the Saxans that the afterworld was secret and hidden, as no mortal man or woman had ever returned from it, it was nonetheless a great boon to the men of Father Wilfrid’s parish to have a beloved representative of that unseen kingdom with them. A priest of the All-Father, especially one that had taken care of their families throughout their life in times of sorrow and joy alike, reminded them of their strongest foundations.
The old priest had given all the young men of the parish the anointing rites of the Three Immersions. He had bonded a good number of them with their wives in the sacred rites of marriage. Furthermore, the priest had given many of their loved ones Transition Rites during their last moments, and had buried them when finally deceased. The kind of bonds that were forged between the men of the parish and the priest during such momentous times in their lives was far stronger than the finest iron.
Aethelstan had been unable to talk the old priest out of going with the Saxan force. He had tried to discourage the priest out of concern for the old man’s health, but he was not entirely disappointed that his efforts had failed. The morale of the men, and of Aethelstan himself, was far better with the kindly old priest’s imminent presence.
“It shall remain with me until your return. Do not be reckless, my dear friend. Passions triumphing over calm minds can bring you defeat when victory is present,” Father Wilfrid then said gently, in the warm, soothing tone that Aethelstan was so accustomed to.
The words were not an admonishment, but simply cautionary and advisory in nature. The sincerity of the priest’s concern was indisputable.
“And I shall keep a calm mind Father, here and in the battle to come,” Aethelstan responded in a low voice.
Aethelstan placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder, and patted him affectionately, in a gesture of reassurance.
Turning back to the men gathered around him, Aethelstan took his leave of them, so that they could all attend to their preparations. Stepping out from behind the low trestle table, he walked briskly through the gathered thanes and exited out the entrance flap of the large tent.
A few of his household troops were gathered just outside. Having been waiting around a nearby fire, they rose to full attention as he appeared before them.
Their looks were expectant in the glow of the firelight, as Aethelstan took a slow, calculated breath of the immaculate night air. The cleansing intake of breath felt good to his lungs as he glanced up at the twinkling night sky above. Yet as clear and beautiful as the night was, there was no time to savor the vast sight spread out to the horizons overhead.
Aethelstan brought his gaze back down with a little regret. He ordered his household warriors to summon ten more of his most senior retainers, even as the major thanes selected from amongst those who had assembled in Aethelstan’s tent hurried to gather up their own elite warriors.
If the Unifier had some advance contingents and scouting groups probing the outer borders of Wessachia, ones strong enough to overwhelm small mounted patrols, Aethelstan intended to give them a greeting woven with strength and fury if they were to meet.
It was not very much longer before a solid force numbering just over a hundred well-armed and equipped Saxan warriors were gathered, mounted, and ready for the impending sojourn. Even Aethelstan’s own stallion, having rested and eaten, seemed restless and eager to go forth into the night. Wind Runner gave a deep, vigorous snort as the thane climbed into the saddle of his mount and took up the reins.
At Aethelstan’s signal they all set out under the silvery light of the two moons; to explore the hilly forest region to the west, locate the woodsman Gunther, and learn whatever they could of the great menace gathering to strike their lands.
LEE
Traveling by night, Lee and his companions were afforded only a scant few, very brief rests. Even those fleeting respites were allowed only in order to prevent the group’s total collapse from exhaustion. Lee and the others covered a considerable distance of ground during the forced march, under the steady pressure and guidance of the woodsman Gunther.
The unobstructed two moons far above cast a moderate amount of light down among the surrounding trees. At the least, the illumination was enough to walk by without undue fear of stumbling into some unseen obstacle.
Though his legs felt as if they were fashioned of solid bricks, and his knees and lower back cried out continuously, Lee trudged onward with grim resolve. He glanced often towards Gunther, though he had to concentrate more and more in his increasing fatigue to avoid tripping on the uneven surface of the woodland floor.
The dour woodsman had been fairly silent and withdrawn all throughout the journey. A cloud of tension and dark thoughts had seemed to envelop the woodsman shortly after they had gotten underway.
There were no efforts on the part of Lee or any of the others to try and interject into the man’s brooding aura. Lee was more than content to wait patiently until Gunther opted to let them into his private and mysterious world. The woodsman was not the sort of individual to be coerced, and Lee knew that any attempt to do so would be feeble and likely provoking.
For the most part, the four otherworlders had capably handled the exacting pace that they had all been subjected to. Even Erin had been without outward complaint. Gratefully, she seemed reticent about doing anything to offend Gunther. Though Lee felt strongly that she eventually needed some harsh admonishment, he did not want to witness what an irritated response by the stern, grieving woodsman might be like. The man looked to be capable of loosing a hurricane of wrath.
Mercifully, Gunther finally decided to call an extended halt for the rest of the night as they reached the base of a large hill.
The Jaghuns appeared out of the darkness again, soon after Gunther sounded a short series of deep, barking calls. The Jaghuns stayed only briefly, before Gunther dispersed them, sending the creatures trotting off into the shadows of the night.
Lee watched the beasts pad away with nary a sound, their forms swiftly enveloped in the ebon depths of the trees. He knew that they would remain in the vicinity, and was eminently thankful for the presence of such formidable guardians.