Aelfric stood quietly with a pair of highly respected ealdormen, Morcar of Wessachia, and Byrtnoth of Sussachia. They listened intently to the latest scouting reports, far away from the ears of others in the camp.
A light, crisp breeze danced along the air, and the bright, clear skies above contrasted starkly with the dark essence of the growing threats on the ground, just beyond the horizon. The lazy, low-lying white clouds that traversed the sky foretold no hint of storms whatsoever, though Aelfric knew that a tremendous one was right on the verge of breaking upon all of Saxany.
It was a day that would normally have found the ealdormen and their thanes out hawking or hunting within the woods of Saxany, where the only dangers would be falling from a horse, or getting attacked by a great boar or other fierce beast caught at bay. It was not an environment reflective of the grim reports currently being given to the prominent Saxans.
“These creatures with humps, I do not know of them, or what they are called, but they seemed to be used to carry packs and men in the manner of horses,” stated one of the scouts, a wiry youth named Osmod.
Aelfric saw the young scout’s eyes reflecting a great wonder at witnessing the foreign dress and contents of the Andamooran ranks. The Unifier had been very wise in assembling His invasion force, as the exotic nature and appearances of the Andamoorans would undoubtedly have an unsettling effect on men who had never before beheld their like.
“If the beasts carry packs and men, then they are likely no greater threat than a horse,” Aelfric responded firmly, seeking to encourage the wavering young man. “No matter how strange their appearance, there is likely little more to worry about regarding them.”
“We could take the battle right to them,” Morcar suggested then to Aelfric, a determined edge in his voice. “We could take our army and strike them now, before all three armies are fully settled, or can array together.”
Aelfric looked over at the rough-countenanced, thickly bearded ealdorman. Like Byrtnoth and himself, Morcar was truly a likeness of the hilly, mountainous, and forested terrain that they all hailed from. They were of the blood of the older Northern Kingdom, which had so capably endured for long ages before the union with the southern realm had taken place.
The Saxan majordomo took great comfort being among his fellow men from the cherished lands spanning the north and north east of the Kingdom of Saxany. A long, hard-won heritage was shared among them, and he could fully relate to the fiery passions that drove such men.
The will to meet a challenge burned strongly indeed. There was no lack of bravery within the man, but Aelfric knew well that Morcar was very quick to judgment, and was often impatient towards any extended counsel. Aelfric did not have such a tendency, which he knew was a significant reason why he had risen to such a preeminent standing with King Alcuin.
“It would be a good course, Morcar, if we knew exactly where their full force of sky warriors was gathered. We have only seen small groups of enemy scouts in the skies around their encampments, which have harried and kept our own few back.
“Their total force is clearly growing with every incoming report. They have far more horsemen than we do. Of that there is no doubt at all. If we attack their encampments, and commit our own forces in full, they could unleash a punishing attack with a great force of horsemen on our vulnerable flanks. Here, arrayed on the plains, we can break them against our shield wall,” Aelfric stated carefully.
Morcar’s brows furrowed in apparent frustration, and though his mouth tightened, no argument was forthcoming. Aelfric knew that the ealdorman had inwardly accepted the reason and logic in Aelfric’s reply, even if the taste of it was bitter. He could see the Ealdorman of Wessachia’s discomfort in holding his passions at bay.
“You speak truly,” the northern ealdorman huffed, “but this is a tremendous agony to a spirit such as mine. I would strike at their heart like a bolt of lightning from the sky… and sear it to ashes.”
Aelfric allowed a thin smile to show on his face. It was one of empathic understanding, and in no way demeaning to the impulses and fires burning within Morcar.
“And I think you would indeed strike at them all by yourself, were it not for the men under your command,” Aelfric responded. “There will be time enough for battle, my friend, when the enemy will surely come to know the skill of your arms, and those of the fighters of Wessachia
… those here with us, and those with your great thane Aethelstan, warding the forested hills north and east of here.”
Morcar straightened up a little, appearing somewhat placated by the flattering words from Aelfric. They were not spoken untruthfully, for Aelfric did indeed respect the valorous character and exceptional skill at arms of the veteran warrior before him.
“What do the scouts say of the current strength of this army from Andamoor?” Aelfric then asked of Osmod, all vestiges of mirth leaving his face, as his expression hardened again.
“Thousands upon thousands, upon more thousands,” Osmod replied somberly, his face taking on a hint of dismay as he voiced the words.
Knowing how swift the Andamooran outriders were reputed to be, Aelfric had a sinking feeling that the enemy had intentionally allowed some scouts to draw close enough to behold the colossal size of the invader’s army. The conveyance of reports concerning the daunting sight among the ranks of the defenders would undoubtedly serve the invader’s wishes. Fear was also a powerful weapon, and how the Saxans handled it would undeniably be a determining factor in their chances.
Yet there was one other truth that was evident in the reports of the immense size of the enemy ranks. It was paramount in Aelfric’s planning.
The attack of the enemy could be expected to come very soon. Armies of such astounding size could not linger for long in the field with the constant demands for prodigious quantities of food and drink. Steeds, draft animals, warriors, and camp attendants alike needed to be sustained, and armies of the size facing the Saxans would be voracious in their requirements.
Adding to the issue of supplies, many warriors among the enemy contingents would only be expecting to serve for a certain amount of time, and a very limited one at that. It was the way of the western kingdoms, in terms of how forces that were not hired outright were levied. Obligations owed to lords were set in very defined terms, most being just around six weeks a year.
It was likely that many of the Avanoran and Ehrengardian knights that had just arrived over the horizon were of such a disposition. If the campaign lasted beyond the designated period, such knights would be in their rights to go back to their homelands. Aelfric was well aware of this reality, and it constituted a significant part of his speculation regarding the enemy’s inclinations.
The enemy leaders would seek to create a major breach into the Saxan Kingdom before such knights would expect to return to their home territories. Others could be summoned, or brought up in time, and still others would remain with the tantalizing lure of acquiring new land holdings, but not all the elements among the invaders would remain intact for a sustained period of time. The longer that the Saxans could resist the enemy, the more possible it was that complications would arise within the invader’s ranks.
The past few weeks were little more than a hazy blur within Aelfric’s tumultuous mind. Images of all kinds rushed through his inner sight, some clear, and others more vague.
He vividly recalled the momentous confrontations with the Unifier’s emissaries in Alcuin’s court at Aixen, and the ensuing acceptance of the fact that war would be unavoidable with the forcible expulsion of the Unifier’s representatives. He also remembered the lighting of the beacons, and the sending of numerous messengers upon horses and sky steeds throughout the lands, to spread the call to arms.