I mean to fight this battle as the great Alexandros might have: my infantry will be the anvil to hold the enemy with their spears, and my horse the hammers that break them and send them fleeing back into their hills. For in this battle I shall have at my disposal well over 200 heavy cavalry. Let them prove their worth to Mor!
The battle commences: out of the mists emerge the Goddodins of Cwn Cawlwyd, the province to the south. They have left their prince sitting in his fortress and marched to war, and by God war is what they shall have! They have arrived before we were fully ready, but it matters not. My
miles form their lines faultlessly; the cavalry divide fluidly into their squadrons
"Remember!" I call to my captains, "the infantry will hold the line, and the cavalry will take from behind! Now GO!" And with that they depart, leading the men to their assigned flanks.
The Goddodins do not wait but simply charge at us.
They fly at us, and our numbers are very nearly equal. My stolid men of Ebrauc check the Goddodin's reckless charge. The enemy's infantry is stopped, his horse begin to fall. My
miles have discipline on their side - brothers of the shieldwall fighting together as a unit rather than the wild individualist attack of the Goddodins.
I look to Macsen and Elidir and nod. Each of them counts 50 heavy cavalrymen of Ebrauc under his banner. Each knows his job. I make eye contact with all of my other men: Ælla and Uchryd, Cadgor and Meriadoc, old Cynfarch, Glasobrin and Fulvius and Caedrieth. My signaller blows his horn. At this signal both contingents of Marchomar Ebrauc move to the wings, supported by more, lighter, cavalry. The infantry begin chanting and push forward.
At the next horn, nearly 200 heavy horse fall upn the enemy's flanks. Then, they withdraw, only to return in more devastating charges. The Goddodin are left no space to breath, no time to recover.
I too join the fray, for from the north behind us King Llewdin's host has been spotted.
While they have no clear battle order, there are over 3000 of them running through the rain.
The battle rages on. Charge. Crash. Withdraw. Regroup. Repeat. The Goddodin are fierce but they cannot take such punishment for long. Surely they must break soon! My casualties are begining to mount. My formations are slowly being whittled down; if the King arrives too soon there is no way my men can stand. A charge from the flanks, as more cavalry ride past:
Despite any fear my men may have, they hold the line, and they make the Goddodin warriors pay dearly for every man of Ebrauc that falls,
There are so many men rushing at us, full of hate and rage. I pause and wipe water from my eyes.
Damn this rain!
"Lord! Macsen is surrounded!" I know not who screams this warning, but I heed it and lead my company towards the center in a desperate charge to relieve Macsen's force. We crash into the rear of his assailants and our spears and swords are soon covered in blood. It is everywhere. Unable to handle the ferocity of the attack the Goddodin break - men throw down their spears and shields and sprint in every direction, desperate to escape death's embrace.
A harsh cry tears from my throat, for there on the sodden ground lies the broken body of my friend Macsen! We were too late for him, but I have no time to grieve: thousands of my countrymens' lives hang in the balance.
"Fulvius! Take Macsen's men and break these Goddodin!"
"What about the King?" he asks as he reorders them.
"I'll see to him!" I call over my shoulder, for I am already riding away. "Turn around, around! The threat is to the rear!"
The enemy horse lay dead as Llewdin's men approach
Slowly, so slowly, or at least it seems that way to me, my formations turn to face the next onslaught of Goddodins even as they are still locked in combat with the remnants of the first force.
They are just in time. There is a tremendous clammor as the kings men engage my own. I can see my lines bend under the stress. I have not seen Elidir since the opening of the battle. I can only hope that he and his men still live. Still, they have done their job for most of the enemies' horsemen lie slain.
And while I do not see Fulvius or Elidir, Ælla is pulling at my sleeve, pointing frantically and yelling something I cannot here over the din of battle.
But I can see what he was pointing at. King Llewdin has engaged my flank and my
miles simply cannot hold back his
Marchomar, his bodyguard of heavy horse. They are being pushed back. There is but one thing to do.
I reign in my horse, dress my bodyguards' lines, though many of them have fallen. "For Ebrauc!" I cry. "Dunawt for Ebrauc!" they answer. Their unwavering loyalty nearly brings tears to my eyes, the rush of emotion I feel is so great.
Our horses leap forward, our speartips drop down. Knee to knee we drive into Llewdin's bodyguard. My spear tip embeds itself into a Marchomar's shield, wrenching it away violently, and another man's spear buries itself in his chest, throwing up a shower of blood and metal scales torn from his corselet. I think it was Uchryd's spear but I cannot be sure for we are swept apart in the melee. This was precisely what I did not want to happen. I trade blows with one of Llewdin's bodyguard for a time but our swords find only shields or armor before we too are swept apart. I have no way of knowing what is happening in the battle. Does my right flank, which was once my left, still hold? Is my cavalry dead?
There is a victorious cry from some distance away, but I do not know what for. I only know that we are being pushed back and more Goddodin infantry are entering the fray. Some of my men are pulled from their horses and butchered. I can see King Llewdin, marked by his armor: it is a glorious vest of silver and gold scales, ornate and finely made with a patina of dents and scratches. I can only watch as Ælla breaks through the press of men to challenge him. They trade blows for some seconds before Llewdin's guardsmen push him aside. But not before he has struck down Ælla.
However, in their desire to protect their lord, they have pushed him towards me. I rain blows upon him but his armor catches the few I can slip past his shield. We are swept apart, him towards his men and me to face several spearmen.
There is a crash and a shockwave ripples through the melee. Men and horses scream. I can see Elidir's banners! Somehow he and his men have survived to charge into this flank, greatly easing the pressure on my own bodyguard.
Lewdin's men are left reeling by the attack from the rear. They stumble back through the rain towards us and again I see Llewdin. I kick my horse toward him and slam the flat of my sword against the helm of a wounded Goddodin, forcing him from his horse and to the ground while Caedrieth hauls another man out of my way and dispatches him. I punch my shield at Llewdin, unbalancing him and unleach a flurry of blows that are all savagery and no skill. I beat aside his sword and finally hack through his fine armor, ripping a terrible gash open in his pectoral. I can see the death in his eyes, for he knows.
And in that instant it is as if we have a wordless conversation. He knows he is dead and the battle probably lost. We, two warlords, neither willing to submit to the other no matter what the circumstances, have come to this end, each with equal amounts of hatred and respect for the other.
I end our brief bout with a thrust to his throat just below his beard which instantly turns read. My men notice and scream to the heavens "Llewdin is dead! The Goddodin king is fallen!" I raise my bloody sword in victory, though the blood itself is soon washed off of the blade.
With this news the rest of Cadoc's force breaks and runs for their hills. Llewdin's men begin to give ground and again I lead my weary men in a series or hammer-and-anvil strikes upon them.
Suddenly and almost as one the Goddodin break.
Thousands of them.
Running.
My exhausted men persue for they are not so tired as to not be able to avenge their losses and punish the insolence of the Goddodins. They continue hacking at the enemy, grappling with them, scooping up discarded weapons and even rocks to continue their brutal work. The remnants of my horsemen give chases as well and inflict bloody slaughter on them, hacking hundreds down from behind. My sword arm aches fiercely and my chest throbs from where a spear thrust dented by armor, but it is done. We are victorious at last.
The carnage is on a scale I have never seen. Thousands lie fallen in the mud. The calls of the wounded are grevous to hear. Men and horses lie broken and strewn for miles
God, let this be an end. Let this slaughter break them, that we may have peace. Thousands lie dead and maimed on this field. I have shattered their armies, slain their king. Surely this must be the end. We march on the now undefended capital Din Eidin.
We have taken many prisoneres - most of them wounded. Or rather we had. My men in their frustration, their grief, their rage, have set about systematically slaughtering them. And I do not stop them. We cannot guard them all, cannot risk ransoming them back. Their pleas for mercy go unsanswered.
Reunion with the remainder of my horsemen is an affair of mixed emotions. Fulvius and I embrace each other in relief, then others: Elidir, Wiglaf, Aedh, Meriadoc and Cadgor, many others, even the stoic and stern Cynfarch embraces us despite sporting a maimed right arm. But many more are gone. Ælla lies wounded and may never walk again, let alone fight. Macsen, noble Macsen, is dead, his scale armor mangled and his chest in bloody ruin. They say he lived long enough to hear of Llewdin's fall, and I pray they are right, that he had that bit of information to ease his passing. It would explain the look of peace on his face. We bury many, so many.
The celebration oscillates wildly between drunken celebration, mourning, and debauchery. When some
miles discovered some Goddodin fugitives hiding in a nearby village, well. It was not pretty. But I do not blame the men and cannot restrain them on this night of costly victory. Tommorrow we will begin to see this through. With the sunrise will come the beginning of the end.
Decanus
Re: The Tin Isles [IB2 Conqvuestvs Britanniae] updated 5\23\15, twice!
Also, I ust say now you're truly cranking out updates at an incredible rate!
Frothy Goodness
Originally Posted by waveman
to rede I me delyte
Your writing is sensibly improving, in my humble opinion.
The Gods act in strange ways...
non flectis non mutant
, son of King Llewdin of the Goddodins; effectively refused to fight agains Ebrauc after the Goddodins had suffered several heavy defeats despite having a fairly distinguished military record; around 25 years old
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