John Schettler - Anvil of Fate

“Yes,” said Nordhausen.“I remember the line now… With Christ’s help he overturned their tents! The Continuator of the Chronicles of Fredegar wrote it. He was speaking of Charles, but it wasn’t Charles at all! The tents would have been well to the rear, in a clearing or on a small hill. Paul shifted in to scout out the area where we thought they might be located, but saw nothing at all—not even a battle underway. But that was on another Meridian!”

He had a grasp on something now, pulling his thoughts together quickly. “Maeve changed things. Lambert and Grimwald die as they should, and Charles wins the power struggle with Plectrude. And so now the battle is where we thought it would be, and the horses… They aren’t livestock taken as pillage by the Moors, no! It’s Odo and his cavalry!”

“Odo? You mean the Duke of Aquitaine?”

“Precisely!” Robert was shaken with the clarity and simplicity of it now. “The Pushpoint lies with him . It was Odo and his light horsemen that Charles thought to hold in reserve for an opportune moment. I can’t blame the man. Paul explained it all to me. The Franks are badly outnumbered when it comes to cavalry in this battle. Charles wanted Odo on his left rear flank, which he considered his weakest point given the firmness of the ground there. But Odo had other ideas. He was headstrong and quite stubborn, stolidly independent. Why, he had even gone so far as to ally himself with the Moors at one point so he could quiet his southernmost front and better confront the incursions of the Austrasians and Neustrians to the north. He was the willful beast! Not the damn horse!”

The Abbot was following along as best he could, at once excited yet still somewhat confused.

“Yes,” said Robert. “Odo was to be held in reserve behind Charles and his Infantry. But I’ll reckon he was most unhappy.”

The Abbot was truly surprised as the professor rambled on, speaking more to himself now.

“And here we thought it was Dodo all along—All we had to do was drop one letter to land on the real culprit. Curious how the accounts of these events are so rife with double meaning,” he said. “No my dear Abbot, the willful beast is the Duke Odo of Aquitaine. He’s was quite the rogue from what we know in the history.”

“Odo, and not the horse?” Emmerich was uncertain. “Yet your sources describe the Arabian steed, the eye, the fire of his hooves. Then something seemed to occur to the Abbot and he shrugged, “Well I suppose it could refer to Odo’s eye as well.“

“What that?” Nordhausen cocked his head to one side, curious. “Odo’s eye?”

“He was wounded,” said the Abbot. “Took a few hard blows upon his helm when he tried to stop the Saracens earlier this year. Some say he’s gone daft in the head, and his eye is still blackened from his earlier defeat on the River Garonne. It’s been slow to heal.”

“You’re certain of this?” said Nordhausen.

“Of course we are,” said the Abbot. “Because Odo is here, at this very moment. Right here in the city. He was waiting here for Charles to arrive with the main Frankish infantry, and he arrived some days ago, just in time to repulse the Saracen rush to take this place. Abdul Rahman has correctly assessed that he may have more in front of him than a few stubborn men at arms now, and he appears to be waiting while he gathers the full strength of his army before proceeding further. The two sides have been skirmishing for several days.”

“Then the final battle is drawing near?”

“On the morrow,” said the Abbot. “Charles moved his main body up this evening, past the old Roman mansio on the road south. He’s setting up his shieldwall, and planning the defense even as we speak. God be with him, for all Christendom and the fate of the West hangs upon the outcome here.”

“Yes,” said Nordhausen, “But Charles was only the anvil in this battle—the stubborn defense. He was certainly essential to the victory here, but he is not the one who decides the issue. It was Odo! Odo and his few thousand light cavalry! They were the horses referred to on the stela. And you shall know him by his eye, and the fire of his hooves! Even the Arab source writes about him. That line has a double meaning as well! It was Odo and his cavalry. That was the commotion in the enemy camp. He must have staged a raid on the camp as the long day’s battle waned— right at dusk. Fearing the loss of all their plunder, this caused the Saracen horde to break off their attack and flee to the defense of their tents. This must be the solution,” he said at last. “It was Odo! The Pushpoint lies with him.”

The Abbot blinked nervously, his eyes ever on a great wooden box that sat at the far end of the Scriptorium. They had been speaking for some time, now, and Emmerich eyed the candles with growing anxiety.

“Lord, guide me,” he whispered. Then looked firmly at Robert, resolved. “Be very careful now,” he said. “Are you certain of this?”

“The line from Fredegar’s Chronicle is clear in my mind,” said Robert. “I have no doubt about that. But the writer obviously flattered Charles because he retains power and goes on to hammer at the Saracens until he drives them out completely. Odo dies three years after this, unheralded and bitter to the end.”

“Then you believe it is Odo that causes the confusion in the enemy camp?”

“It had to be,” said Robert. “Charles was heavily engaged with the main body of the enemy cavalry. How could he be responsible? Odo had the only force mobile enough to pull off a raid on the Saracen camp. He commanded the Frankish Cavalry. Yes, he was held in reserve, but it’s clear that he had every reason to launch an attack like this. He comes to Tours after being roundly defeated by Abdul Rahman, and suffers the humiliation of having to beg his rival and enemy, Charles, for aid and succor. He’s bristling to restore his honor. The only victory he can really claim was won by just such a raid, striking the enemy flank at Toulouse while they were heavily engaged at the walls of the city. It’s exactly the sort of maneuver he would plan. In fact, it’s the only thing he could do given the circumstances. Odo’s raid causes a segment of Abdul Rahman’s army to retreat to secure their camp, most likely his undisciplined Berbers. Then the whole thing falls apart, and when Abdul tries to rally his men, he is killed. Only then does Charles launch his counterattack, just like the garrison of Toulouse sortied out when Odo won that battle. It’s Odo. I’m sure of it.”

“So how can the Assassins prevent his maneuver, short of killing the man outright? That would be difficult, given that Odo is much on guard now, and surrounded by the last remnant of his comitatus guard.”

“Don’t you understand?” said Nordhausen. “They haven’t figured any of this out either—the other side is as much in the dark as you are, as we all were! Every intervention the Assassins have been running has been aimed at Charles. They tried to prevent his ascension and put Grimwald in his place, but we’ve stopped them. They think it all has to do with Charles, but they’re wrong, and I’m right, by God. And that’s the end of it.”

The Abbot bit his lip, hesitating, an inkling of fear in his eyes, and much anxiety evident on his face.

“This is maddening,” said Nordhausen. “You mean to say that even given all your resources in the future, whatever year it is that you have come here from, your people cannot find the Pushpoint?”

“All our resources?” The Abbot gave him a wry smile. “We had two Arch complexes left operational after the Heisenberg Wave generated by Palma struck home. Exactly two. They are most likely still protected by Nexus fields until the outcome of these events, but they have limited capabilities, even as you operate within the limits of available petrol and quantum fuel in your era. And they were focusing most of their effort at solving the threat of Palma. We’ve only just been warned about the danger here at Tours. The remainder of all our assets, Agents, Supervisors, Controllers, Messengers, are scattered throughout the history, and at grave risk now. This abbey, for example, is now in jeopardy, and in like manner the remainder of our forces will be harried, hunted down and eliminated, throughout the whole of the Meridian if we fail to stop Abdul Rahman and his Saracens here.”