David Gemmell - The Ironhand's Daughter

No house by the Falls. No golden future in the sunshine on the mountains. This one night is all there is, he realized. He felt the panic in the pit of his belly, and in the palpitations of his heart. Fell so wanted to wake Sigarni again, to tell her of Gwalchmai's prophecy. Yet he did not.

Instead he held her to him and listened to her soft breathing.

'Will you hold, Fell?'

Aye, he thought, I will hold.

The loss of a group of his scouts was not entirely unexpected, and the Baron had despatched four more men to scout the Duane Pass. Only one returned - and he had an arrow wound high on the right shoulder.

'Well?' asked the Baron.

The man's face was grey, and he was in great pain. 'As you predicted, lord, they have taken up a position on the flat hill. A wall of shields. I estimate there are almost three thousand warriors there.'

'Their full force?' The Baron laughed and turned to his officers. 'See what happens when a woman leads? What fools they are!' Swinging again to the wounded scout, he asked, 'What of the western slope?'

'Around a hundred men hidden in the trees. I got pretty close before they saw me.'

'To the east?'

'I saw no one, sir.'

'Good. Go and get that wound seen to.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

The Baron gathered his officers around him. 'You have all studied the maps, and you will realize that their position is a strong one. We must first encircle the hill; that will stretch us thin in places, but it is too high for them to make a swift sally down upon us.' He fixed his attention on a tall, lean cavalryman. 'Chaldis, you will take half the cavalry and a thousand foot. Kill the defenders on the western slope and attack their encampment and the surrounding Pallides villages.'

'Yes, my lord,' Chaldis responded.

'Where is Cheops?' asked the Baron.

'Here, my lord,' answered a short, stocky figure in uniform of brown leather, pushing forward from the back.

'You will take your archers to the eastern slope and pepper them. I will initiate attacks from the western side. Be wary, Cheops. I would sooner your arrows fell a little short than sailed over the defenders and struck our own men. Nothing so demoralizes a fighting man as to fear death from the shafts of his own archers.'

'You can rely on us, my lord.'

'Leofric, you will command the cavalry wing. Skirt the hill and continue sporadic raids from the north side. Use only the heaviest armoured lancers. The enemy will have good bowmen on that hilltop. Do not push too far. Hit hard, then break away. It will be the infantry who apply the hammer blow.'

'Understood, my lord.'

'Gentlemen,' said the Baron, with a rare smile. 'A magnificent opportunity lies ahead of us. In the south there is a great panic concerning these rebel Highlanders, and when we have defeated them the King will make sure you are rewarded for your efforts. But remember this, though they are barbarians and scum they still know how to fight. I want the woman alive; I will send her in chains to the capital. As to the rest, slaughter them to a man. God is with us, gentlemen. Now let us be about our duties.'

The Baron strode to his tent and ducked below the flap. Once inside he turned his attention to the Highlander, sitting flanked by two guards. The man was of medium height, with greasy dark hair and a wide mouth. He did not look the Baron in the eye.

'Your information was correct,' said the Baron. 'The bitch has fortified the hill-top.'

'As I told you, my lord,' said Bakris Tooth-gone, starting to rise from his chair. But a soldier pressed his hand on Bakris' shoulder, easing him back into the seat.

'Treachery always fascinates me,' said the Baron, flicking his fingers and pointing to a jug of wine. A servant filled a goblet and passed it to his lord; the Baron sipped it. 'Why would one of Sigarni's captains betray her?"

'It's a lost cause, my lord,' said Bakris bitterly. 'They're all going to die. And I want to live.What's wrong with that? In this life a man must look out for himself. I've never had nothing.

Now by your leave, I'll have some gold and some land.'

'Gold and land,' echoed the Baron. 'I have sworn to see every Highlander slain and you are a Highlander. Why should I not kill you?'

Bakris grinned, showing stained and broken teeth. 'You won't get them all in this one battle, lord. I know all the hiding places. I was a forester; I can lead your soldiers to where they run to. And I'll serve you well, lord.'

'I think you will,' the Baron agreed.

Three servants set about dressing the Baron in his black armour, buckling his breastplate, hooking the gorget into place, attaching his greaves and hinged knee protectors. Accoutred for war, he strode to his black stallion and was helped into the saddle.

Touching heels to the stallion's flanks, he rode to the front of the battle line and lifted his arm.

The army moved on towards the mouth of the Duane Pass.

To the Baron's surprise there were no flights of arrows from the rearing cliff faces on either side, nor any sign of defenders on the gentle slopes to left and right. Ahead the sun glimmered on the shield wall of the defenders, as they ringed the flat-topped hill half a mile distant.

A long time ago the Outlanders themselves had employed the shield-ring defence. It was strong against cavalry, but weak against a concerted attack from infantry, with support from archers.

Bowmen could send volley after volley of arrows over the shields, cutting away at the heart of the defenders.

The Baron rode on. Now he could see the tightly packed clansmen, and just make out the silver-armoured figure standing in the front line.

I should be grateful to you, he thought, for you have made my glory all the greater. Swinging in the saddle, he glanced back at his fighting men. If the losses were too light the victory would appear shallow, too high and he would be deemed an incompetent. Around three hundred dead would be perfect, he thought.

Leofric rode past him on the right, leading the cavalry in columns of three. On the left, Chaldis led his fifteen hundred men up the western slope to the enemy's right. 'That's good, Chaldis,' shouted the Baron admiringly. 'Let them see where you are heading; it will give them time to think about the fate of their wives and sons. Fire some buildings as soon as you can. I want them to see the smoke!'

'Aye, my lord,' the captain replied.

The Baron rode on, leading his infantry to the foot of the hill but remaining out of bowshot.

Custom demanded that he give the enemy the opportunity to surrender, but today was not a time to consider custom. Good God, they might accept!

Glancing to his right, he saw Cheops and his fifteen hundred lightly armoured archers toiling up the slope. Each man carried thirty shafts. Four thousand five hundred sharp missiles to rain down upon the unprotected defenders!

The Baron ordered the encirclement of the hill and the three thousand remaining infantrymen, holding tightly to their formations, spread out to obey.

There was no movement from the defenders, and no sound. No harsh, boastful challenges, no jeering.

It was unusual. The Baron could see the woman, Sigarni, moving among the men. The helm she wore was truly magnificent and would make a fine trophy.

Dark storm-clouds obscured the sun, and a rumble of distant thunder could be heard from the north.

'The Gods of War are preparing for the feast!' he shouted. 'Let us not disappoint them.'

Fell waited behind the cover of the trees, Torgan beside him. They could not yet see the lancers, but they could hear the thundering of their hooves on the hard-packed earth of the hill. Fell glanced to his right, and saw the Highlanders notching arrows to their bows. To his left the swordsmen waited, their two-handed claymores held ready. Five hundred fighting men, ready to defend their homes, their families and their clans.