Within the village was a single timber pole, painted red. It had somehow emerged unscathed from the withering storm of rocks that had showered down upon the village, and Ayenwatha was determined that it would serve its intended purpose once again.
Surrounded as it was by the broken shells of longhouses, and the ponderous silence of the abandoned village, the final stage of the preparation for war was undertaken in a very emotional and heartfelt environment. The single red pole stood unscathed as a symbol of defiance, and survival, within the terrible scene of tragedy.
At first, there was a profound silence, as the horde of warriors assembled in a great mass around the red war pole. One by one, the warriors then began to build themselves into a frenzy, drums thumping as chants rose up into the skies. Over a very long, poignant sequence, the warriors of the five tribes moved in to strike the red pole, as they would soon strike their enemies.
Hundreds upon hundreds filed by, as Ayenwatha looked over the moving ceremony, with a grim expression on his face and a maelstrom of emotion within. By the time the last warrior had struck the red pole, well over two thousand five hundred warriors had passed it.
It would be the final ritualistic act before the war band would disperse to begin their defense. The tribes no longer practiced the dog-feast that had once crowned such a ceremonial war preparation. That was from a darker period, in which the flesh of prisoners was consumed, and the enemy was seen to be no better than a dog. Ayenwatha knew very well that the Great Sachem Deganawida, as well as the Wizard named Deganawida, that had originally founded the Great Law, abhorred such practices.
Even so, Ayenwatha felt a dark rage building deep within him as he looked out over the charred, jagged husks of the longhouses in back of the throng of warriors. As far as Ayenwatha saw things, the current enemy was far lesser in stature than the least among dogs. A primal urge was burning within him, empowered by his great anger, begging for a vicious revenge that would leave a Gallean town or village in such ruins.
The black rage swelled up within Ayenwatha, until his lips began to twitch with the venomous feelings reverberating throughout him. Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to reintroduce some of the older ways.
He would not have to go so far as to bring the eating of human flesh back, but he could at least bring back some of the extended tortures meted out to the prisoners of war, before the consuming of their flesh had taken place. As far as Ayenwatha now felt, it was the least that the attackers deserved for their unprovoked assault upon his village.
The malefic sentiments shocked Ayenwatha out of his consuming anger. Almost immediately, he admonished himself for giving life to such vile, wicked feelings. Whether or not the Dark Brother was somehow working an influence upon him, he was acquiescing to mordant passions. Summoning up the force of his will, he choked down the bile with a considerable effort.
The Gallean villagers were no more deserving of such a horrible fate, than the tribal villagers had been. Ayenwatha could not, at any cost, lose sight of that. If he did, he would be no better than the Unifier. Perhaps he would even be worse, as the Unifier was still being true to His own evil purposes, while Ayenwatha would be shaming everything that he had stood for, and embraced throughout his life.
Ayenwatha forced his emotions farther down, and brought his thoughts back to bear more fully upon the more practical matters facing him. The ranks of the tribal warriors would undoubtedly expand in the coming days, but Ayenwatha now had a very strong war band to lead. It was evident that a potent tribal force would be in place to oppose the enemy, when they drove into the forest from the west.
The tribal warriors would still be heavily outnumbered, but they would know the terrain, and would be superior in their woodland movements. Ayenwatha’s warriors would need to hit the enemy hard and swiftly from the shadows.
If the warriors could avoid being caught in a conflict of brute force, then a chance remained to inflict wound after wound upon the aggressors. Even the mightiest of bears encountered in the woods could eventually be worn down.
The thought left Ayenwatha with a sliver of hope, as he exited the devastated village with a river of determined tribal warriors following in his wake.
*
AELFRIC
*
The outer scouts, those that had not been captured or slain, had brought back several more foreboding reports to the main Saxan encampment on the Plains of Athelney. The reports merely confirmed the information that Aelfric had gained already, but in another sense they revealed the sheer scale of what the Saxans were going to face, and it was far greater than any of them had ever imagined.
Incomparably vast, the enemy encampments were now rooted firmly in place. The discipline of the Saxans’ enemy was also very much in evidence.
The arrival of Andamoor’s huge columns had embodied both qualities. Teeming ranks of well-ordered Andamooran infantry, bearing tall shields of hide, and distinctive, long bamboo spears, had fanned out shortly after their arrival over the horizon. They had provided a warding perimeter of living fighters, while trenches were swiftly dug by other Andamoorans around the boundaries of their encampment.
The interior of the marked encampment was soon filled with the presence of thousands of warriors, horsemen, pack mules, and a huge number of the strange, hump-backed creatures that were so unique to the Andamooran contingent. Tents of a wide range of varieties, from small, simple constructs, to what looked to be ornate, lavish pavillions, were erected. Hosts of vividly colorful banners were soon waving in the breezes where they signified the location of high-ranking Andamoorans.
There had already been a few fierce skirmishes with small bands of swift, lightly armed horsemen, who were serving as auxiliaries and scouts for the Andamooran force. The brief encounters with the Andamooran outriders had drawn a little blood on both sides, though the enemy scouts were always quick to withdraw.
In and of itself, the Andamooran ranks would have constituted an invasion threat, but Aelfric was faced with the presence of no less than two other enormous contingents.
The banners of many great lords of Avanor were now flying high over the masses of tents in the middle enemy encampment.
Small bands of foraging Avanoran squires had recently been encountered by Saxan patrols, but these were swiftly driven off, wherever they were found. Squires were of little concern, as Aelfric knew the core strength of the Avanorans lay with the multitude of veteran knights quartering within the encampment.
Most daunting to Aelfric, there was considerable evidence of a great siege train being present with the Avanorans, as well as a host of wagons and supply carts filled to capacity to reinforce the Avanoran ranks. The siege train and overabundance of supplies indicated the intention of a long, thoroughly prosecuted campaign, which was exactly what Aelfric had feared.
The third force, from Ehrengard itself, was now resting at ease amid its own tents and considerable array of supply wagons. Stately, powerful bishops with strong retinues, exalted princes far removed from their lofty, crag-surmounting castles, and mighty bond-knights alike were quartered all throughout the Ehrengardian camp.
The Saxan scouts had not been able to confirm whether ranks of the dreaded Halmlander mercenaries were currently settled among the Ehrengardian camp, though Aelfric would have been very surprised if they were not there. The uncertainty was quite bothersome nonetheless, even though Aelfric was making all plans as if the murderous hirelings of Ehrengard would be arrayed against the Saxans on the very first day of battle.