Wolves of the North by Harry Sidebottom

Author:Harry Sidebottom [SIDEBOTTOM, HARRY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, FIC014000, FIC002000
ISBN: 9781468307573
Publisher: ABRAMS, Inc. (Ignition)
Published: 2013-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Wyrd will often spare

An undoomed man, if his courage is good.

Calgacus spat. ‘If you are doomed, no courage will change the course of events.’

‘You really are a miserable old bastard,’ Maximus said.

They were all laughing, except Wulfstan. The young Angle’s face was clouded.

Ballista drew his dagger, snapped it back; drew his sword, snapped it back; touched the healing stone on his scabbard. All the time, he looked at Wulfstan, thinking. Then he cursed himself for not realizing more quickly.

‘Wulfstan’ – Ballista spoke in their own language – ‘if you live through this, I will give you your freedom. If I fall, these men can witness, I wish you manumitted in my will.’

The boy’s face broke into an enormous smile. ‘Thank you, Atheling. No doom can touch us now.’

‘Huhn,’ Calgacus snorted.

They pushed through the undergrowth away from the river, up to the tailgate of the wagon at the eastern end of the semicircle. It was deserted. There was fighting in and around the wagon beyond.

Ballista waved Wulfstan out into the open centre of the laager and led the other three along the inner side of the wagon.

The defences between the two wagons had been breached. A Herul and a Roman soldier lay dead there. Alani were treading on them as they clambered through. All the attention of the tribesmen was on the wagon where there was still resistance.

Ballista caught the eyes of the others. He held up three fingers. They nodded. One – two – as he lowered the third finger, they hurled themselves around the corner of the wagon. The first Alan looked round. Ballista’s spatha sheered half his face away. Maximus darted past Ballista’s right shoulder and thrust his shorter gladius deep into the chest of a second. Tarchon moved up on the left. A third, climbing through the gap in the barricade, opened his mouth to scream, threw up his arm to shield himself. The sound never came. The arm was severed at the elbow. The nomad looked at the stump stupidly. It was fountaining blood. Tarchon drove the point of the blade into his throat, then pushed him away with a boot. Another Alan had been clambering into the wagon with the fighting. He turned, went to shout a warning, and an arrow took him in the neck. He turned slowly, as if taking a last stock of the sunshine of the mortal world, and fell off the wagon. Four Alani dead in about as many heartbeats.

Ballista gestured for Wulfstan to come close. Calgacus was making sure the downed Alani were dead with the point of a sword. Another one, blissfully unaware, appeared through the gap in the fortification. With a wild yell, Tarchon smashed him backwards. Cries of consternation arose from outside.

‘Tarchon, Wulfstan, stop any more getting through here.’

They moved into position, Wulfstan sending a couple of arrows whipping out, to leave no doubt in Alani minds that the defences were manned again.

Ballista and Maximus jumped up into the rear of the next wagon. Calgacus, his right hand still near useless, slowly hauled himself up after.

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