Love Lost in Time by Cathie Dunn

Author:Cathie Dunn [Dunn, Cathie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History
Publisher: Ocelot Press
Published: 2019-11-28T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

15th August, AD 778

The pass at Roncevaux, western Pyrenaei

“Ware! Attack!”

“To arms!”

“Vascones!”

Spears came flying from both sides of the path. On their return to Francia after a brutal campaign in Iberia against the southern Vascones, the Franks had split from their allies again. The Lombards and the Burgundians had taken the easier road northwards along the east coast of the Mare Mediterraneum, but King Charles and his Frankish and Visigoth soldiers were crossing the western Pyrenaei. The pass at Roncevaux provided them with the most direct route back into Aquitania.

They thought it was safe…

Bellon ducked as yet another short spear whizzed past his head, almost scraping his ear. Beneath him, his stallion collapsed into a heap of mangled legs, its heavy body pierced by two lances. He pushed himself from the saddle and lay flat behind the bulky rump as the onslaught continued. He blinked hard. There was no time to mourn the loyal beast.

“Put your helmets on and grab your weapons!” he urged those men from Carcassonne who had survived the campaign. “Shelter in the shrubs!”

Surveying the area, he saw movement all over the woodland hillsides.

Where had the attackers come from? And why had there been no warning from the lookouts?

With little time to think, Bellon clumsily untied his helmet from the saddle and pulled it over his head, fastening the leather strap under his chin with shaky hands. Then he grabbed his shield. Glancing around, he realised the alarm cry had come too late for many of his fellow warriors. He took the hilt of his sword in a firm grip.

Appearing from the thick leaf cover of the forest, men were crawling closer over the rocks of the steep mountain pass. Soon, he spotted two fighters nearby squatting behind a large oak. They were whirling their slings in the air before they turned to face him and his fellow soldiers and let loose a hail of rocks. He raised his shield, and the stones thudded against it. When he next dared a glance, four other men had joined them, some throwing their short spears whilst some prepared another volley of stones.

He huddled behind his dead horse again, escaping another onslaught. Beside him, men were scrambling for their weapons and helmets, unprepared as they all were for such an attack.

We should have known better.

Then the Vascones overran them. His fellow soldiers did not have enough time to draw their weapons and fight back. Bellon had seen many skirmishes and battles, but this was no battle. It was a massacre!

He fought off two attackers who realised that he was too well-trained and uninjured to engage in direct combat. With a few scratches, they escaped into the undergrowth as quickly as they had appeared.

It was the perfect place for an ambush, and a small voice inside his head commended them for choosing it. Then, reality returned with another man, armed with a short sword and a dagger, facing him. He parried each stroke and kept an eye on the knife. The Vascones were hardy warriors, brutal and without mercy.

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