Gods and Kings 0002: Pagan King by M J Porter

Author:M J Porter [Porter, M J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, War & Military, Medieval Europe, Fiction, upload
Amazon: B01AWL0SW6
Published: 2016-04-21T06:00:00+00:00

⌘Chapter 22 – AD641 - Penda of the Hwicce

Barrow Hill⌘

The journey from our encampment has been short, with no need to bring our horses. Should the worst happen, not that it will, we’ll run away quicker if we’re not worrying about retrieving our horses.

Some of my older warriors instead guard the animals, disgruntled to be left out of the main fighting, but reasonable enough to appreciate that their skills have diminished with time. Even old Aldfrith, a man so old he has no teeth left anymore, stands and personally takes control of Gunghir. They respect each other. If I weren’t about to attack Oswald, I’d amuse myself with tales of what the old man, and the old horse, will today tell each other? What aches and pains will they complain about, and what will they say, eyebrows raised, about the headstrongness of young men who want to be kings?

Not that Gunghir let me go easily. He fought and bit, and stamped on my foot, ensuring I heard his unhappiness and understood it as well. He was bred for war. He wants to be with me, but no horse can stand in the thick of the fighting. No, for that I need my shield, my sword, my axe and my spear. Nothing else will kill Oswald.

Cynddylan and Clydog march with me. We’ve decided to go to the hill together, to show the men that we’re united in our purpose, to show Oswald the same. We might hope that we know the outcome of this battle already, but we still need to fight it, and maintain the illusion that we don’t.

Oswald can’t know what we have planned.

He can’t know that Eowa isn’t his ally.

Behind us and also in front of us, men stream through the bright morning sunshine. It’s the summer, the sun has been high in the sky since long before the birds woke, and yet the day is still young. Our advance scouts have hunkered down and watched Oswald and Eowa form into their battle lines last night. Oswald might think this battle will surprise us, but it won’t. We’re prepared.

Yet we’ve not made ditches or raised stakes against any attacking force, for we’re the attacking force, and we’ll be rapid, like lightning, streaking up the hill, steep but not steep enough that spears thrown from the top of the old barrow will give the enemy any sort of advantage.

No, our attack will be quick, we’ll overpower Oswald as soon as we can, and then Eowa will make his intentions clear and before the day ends, another king will have lost their life on this fabled hill, the object of many a tale when I was a small boy.

Clydog is encumbered with weapons, his shield, sword, war axe, spear, knives, his helm shining brightly. He looks like an avenging God come to restore order to the world. I think that’s what we plan. He’s a Christian and I’m a believer in Woden, but neither of us agree with Oswald and his desire to turn the whole world to his one true God.

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