The Saxon Might by James Calbraith

Author:James Calbraith [Calbraith, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
Published: 2020-05-14T20:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

THE LAY OF BRUTUS

A small group of Britons breaks out on the western flank and starts climbing up the hill towards us. They haven’t noticed us yet — but they can see the ruined smithy, and must think they can defend themselves better within its walls.

We move out of the ruins to find another hiding place. Eadgith trips over something. She picks up the long, black object.

“It’s Aelle’s stick thrower!”

There’s a bundle of bolts lying nearby. The Saxon must have assumed he would not need the weapon at close quarters. I pause to study its precise, intricate mechanism, almost beautiful in its verbose practicality. The bolts are a foot long, half an inch thick, and tipped with a razor-sharp piece of steel. There is a winding apparatus of pulleys and gears at the rear, which makes drawing the sinew string a child’s play.

I insert three bolts into the wooden box on top, wind the machine up as I saw Aelle do earlier, and aim carefully at the nearest of the Britons. A squeeze of a trigger and a twang of string later, the enemy falls back with a cry. I shoot again. The weapon is so well balanced that it’s almost impossible to miss. By the time the third bolt lands in the shoulder of a third Briton, the rest halts and scatters, seeking shelter from what they must think is a squadron of archers.

I have never before held in my hands anything so deadly. I count the bolts — there’s nine left. I could kill nine more Britons — it wouldn’t sway the tide of battle, but it would give me a satisfaction of actually doing something. Or… I could finish what I started at Crei.

“How close can you get me to that man in the plumed helmet?” I ask Birch, pointing to what I believe to be Brutus, commanding his soldiers from a risen sandbar. I can see now that it was never a coincidence he was at the heart of the fiercest fighting in every battle we met. The man is the best general I’ve ever encountered. Somehow, not only has he managed to rally the men around him, but turned them around to counterattack despite Odo continuously gnawing at him at the rear, and is now dangerously close to overcoming Aelle’s southern flank. Elasio, on the other side of the battlefield, shows none of his skill or tenacity; his northern militias still haven’t even broken through Raven’s Auxilia. One way or another, Brutus must be stopped — for good this time.

It’s just like the real Lake Trasumennus, I remember. The Romans would not succumb to Hannibal as long as their Consul lived. It took a Gaulish lance to bring him down, and with him, the entire army. A ballista bolt should do the job just as well.

“How close do you need?” Birch replies, licking the edge of her axe.

“Enough to get a clear shot.” I glance at the dead Britons and assess the weapon’s effective range.

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