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meandering waters of the river to the West. Although the roadway itself was wide and well constructed, a sombre air of abandonment hung over the vale and the warriors, Briton and Engle alike, gripped their weapons a little tighter as they searched the gloom for any sign of opposition.
    As the first grey light lit the eastern sky and the moon paled above them, the men watched as a herd of deer emerged from the tree line on the far side of the vale. Led by a large hart, the heavy fronds of its antlers spearing the air as it rolled its neck and snorted defiance, the females watched impassively as the armed group ghosted through their domain. A light mist had risen to fill the hollows with a milky wisp, tendrils snaking down to the river as the light began to chase the shadows away.
    Suddenly the hart snapped its head to the North, and the hinds which had grouped in his wake skittered nervously. Eofer shared a look of concern with Thrush Hemming who marched at his side, and soon their fears were confirmed as the shadowy figure of a British scout came rushing back along the road towards the column. Within moments the man was reporting to the British magister, and they watched as Cynric left his father's side and trotted back along the column towards them, concern writ large on his features. As the Belgic warriors instinctively began to check their equipment and grip their shields a little tighter, Cynric reached the English eorle.
    “You had better come up, Eofer,” he panted. “There is an army blocking our path.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    THREE
     
    Eofer strode purposefully forward as the men of his troop rechecked buckles and fastenings. Untying the peace bands from his own sword, Blood-Worm, he greeted Cerdic with a smile. “We have company, I understand. What do we know?”
    The British leader was nodding earnestly as the scout completed his report on the armed force which had appeared ahead, and Eofer felt a kick of optimism as he watched a smile spread slowly across Cerdic's face. Finally he clapped the man on the shoulder and turned to the eorle.
    “It's a small force, most likely the men from the fort at Clausentum. Here,” he said, smoothing a patch of earth with his foot, “this is what I believe the situation to be.”
    Eofer watched as Cerdic hastily sketched out a map of the area with the point of his spear.
    “This is the valley of the Afen and we are here.” He stabbed out to left and right of the line in the soil. “These are the two great woodlands which border it and here is where we left your ships at the coast. This bay,” he stretched across and outlined a great oval, “leads up from the Soluente almost as far as the capitol at Venta, and Clausentum at the head of the bay guards the mouth of the River Icene and the roadway which lead directly to it. There is another good road which skirts the woodland and leads directly to the ford up ahead where they have set up their line of defence.” He looked up and flashed a smile. “It is known locally as Cerdicsford, after the victor in a battle which was fought there a decade or so ago. It's my guess that our Jutish friends from last night reported our presence to their masters at the fort, and they in turn realised that your ships very likely carried myself and Cynric.” He raised a brow in question. “What would you have done in their place?”
    Eofer replied straight away. “Send word to the main army at Venta and then rush across and try to delay you here until they come up and finish you off.”
    Cerdic nodded. “It's the obvious thing to do, the only thing really,” he agreed. “I can't fault their bravery. Their cause may be misguided but they have my respect.”
    Eofer interrupted. “If you know this fort, you should know how many men usually garrison it.”
    “Cedwyn just confirmed that we are facing a hundred or so, that would be the full compliment, so with my two hundred, plus the hundred and...” Cerdic