“The warriors are in position, but we can move them with little trouble to another place of your liking,” Cenferth stated somberly, from where he stood to Aethelstan’s right.
Aethelstan looked at the stout household warrior and had to stifle a slight grin, even in light of the grim circumstances. Cenferth had misread Aethelstan’s concerns, but his presence was still a comfort.
The hardy warrior always seemed to strive towards the positives of a situation, a trait honed by the resilient and tireless ethic held among the peoples of the northern provinces. Aethelstan admired men like that, but he knew that the attitude could also become a detriment when it failed to acknowledge the realities of a given situation.
“We are in a good place to fight the Avanorans, deployed on the best ground for our purposes. I have no doubts that before us is the channel that they would take. They will accept our offered site of battle, Cenferth, and I wish to keep it that way.
“It is just that we cannot allow them to map out our positions with such impunity,” Aethelstan stated. He turned back to the lean, tall warrior with sharp, blue eyes standing just behind him. “Edmund, will you be able to keep them away, from now on?”
Edmund, the leader of the available contingent of sky riders, and the highest-ranking sky warrior of Ealdorman Morcar’s lands, thought carefully for a moment. His brow furrowed in concentration.
“You know that we have only a relative handful of Himmerosen for our use here. Aelfric’s summons of Aldric the Stormblade called upon most of the sky warriors for the great battle looming on the plains,” he answered in an even tone. “But we should still have enough warriors to fend off the scouts and small patrols escorting the oncoming enemy force. But whether they might have an even stronger force coming up behind them, I cannot yet say.”
Aethelstan nodded. “Then we may yet have a chance to hide much of the disposition of our forces. We will also have several of our bowmen looking out for those foolhardy Trogens that would dare venture too low in the skies. If you encounter the enemy, and are able to drive them downward in the vicinity of this position, then we should be able to give them a Saxan greeting.
“The land itself impedes their use of cavalry. They will not have much advantage even here, where mounted warriors can be used, and where they will surely come. But they will be coming with great strength upon the ground, and our men along the ridgeline cannot worry about what might threaten from the skies.”
“Then we must pray to the All-Father for deliverance,” another of his thanes, a broad-shouldered, middle-aged warrior named Offa stated.
The sincerity of that simple expression of piety, another trait of the northerners, was shown in the warmth emanating from the man’s eyes and the calm tone of his voice.
Aethelstan nodded in agreement. “We must always pray, Offa, though the answer may not always be to our desire. What will happen, will happen. We can only do our part, to account for who we really are. How much more time do you estimate that we have before they are here?”
“Perhaps a day, maybe two,” Offa replied, just as calmly, despite the fact that the words indicated that he and the men of his homelands would soon be facing the threat of death at the hands of a foreign invader. The implications of losing the coming battle, and leaving the villages and homesteads of Wessachia vulnerable, were far too terrible to contemplate.
Aethelstan looked again towards Edmund. “My good friend, your work in the skies is of ever greater importance. You must let us know the movements of their army, for it seems that time grows short indeed.”
Edmund returned Aethelstan’s gaze, his eyes reflecting the loyalty and affinity that the two warriors had for each other. There was no man that Aethelstan respected more among the Saxans of Wessachia than Edmund.
Just three years before, Edmund had finally made the rank of thane, just like his father before him. His stockaded residence had a modest hall and tower within it, and Aethelstan had been instrumental in helping him complete his estate, which now encompassed over seven hides of land.
Edmund’s residence was located near a quite pleasant village called Golden Meadow, a place with fertile farmlands located just north of Aethelstan’s town-fort of Bergton. The village was so named due to the broad meadow that spring draped with bright, golden flora every year. Tranquil and restful, the resplendent meadow afforded a stunning view of the landscape and the shining brook that timelessly meandered through it.
This was the first year that Aethelstan had not been able to enjoy the peace and serenity of the meadow, as the call of war had taken him far from any thought of repose. It was a great and terrible regret, as Aethelstan truly looked forward to visiting his childhood friend during that wondrous time each spring when the richness of bloom and leaf accompanied the vigorous return of life, following winter’s long slumber.
Aethelstan and Edmund had grown up close, and although Aethelstan was destined to be the greater thane by his lineage, subject only to Ealdorman Morcar himself, they had maintained a growing, brotherly friendship in both heart, arms, and in service to their people. From their early childhood to the present moment, their paths had long been intertwined.
Now, they would be walking along a most precarious and foreboding path together. Aethelstan was well aware that at times it would take the abilities and efforts of one to keep the other from falling, as they traversed the perilous road looming ahead.
“You will know, Aethelstan. Our hearts will not tire,” Edmund stated resolutely to the great thane, with a slight nod of his head. His firm, somber tone, and iron-steady gaze conveyed the confidence within him to the man that was both his superior and his friend.
“This force will depend on the eyes of your men,” Aethelstan replied stoically. “I will depend upon you.”
Edmund fixed his gaze upon that of Aethelstan. “If peril should come upon you, know that somehow I will be there to make certain that you do not fall.”
Aethelstan held back the smile that wished to emerge, not wanting Edmund to misinterpret his expression as taking the lesser thane lightly. Edmund’s words were no boast, as Aethelstan knew that the man would go through hell itself if Aethelstan was in mortal danger.
Aethelstan was so very grateful that Edmund would be there for the coming battle. Edmund’s resolve was infectious, something that was good for all the warriors, including Aethelstan. With the slightest of grins, Aethelstan patted Edmund firmly upon the shoulder.
“I know you would be there, but it is imperative that you do not fall either,” Aethelstan stated. A wide smile then burst upon his face. “I will trust in Offa’s estimation that we have at least a day left to us. The Trogens can learn no more today than what they have already acquired. Let us go share some ale together, and forget about this turmoil for a few precious moments.”
Aethelstan glanced around at his houseguard, and the other men with Edmund. “Is there any objection?”
The men around him smiled back warmly.
“I didn’t think so,” Aethelstan said, with a chuckle. “Then let us not tarry further. To my tent. Let us fill some cups together! Some Saxan practices must not be ignored, even in such trying times!”
“Indeed, if there ever was the perfect Saxan thane, such a thane would only be your equal!” Edmund remarked, as he strode alongside his friend.
*
WULFSTAN
*
“They abandoned all the hill forts along the borders. The forts at the crossroads too. Pulled the cavalry right back out. The garrisons too, they say, and left ‘em abandoned. Heard it with my own ears,” commented a man to Wulfstan’s right, as they worked to break up the hard earth and dig the wide trench rapidly forming along the outermost boundary of the sprawling encampment.