Fire & Steel Read Online Free PDF Page B

let the sentence hang in the air and wrinkled his brow.
    “One hundred and twenty-five, without the four left at the ships,” Eofer answered.
    “So we have the advantage in numbers and quality. But,” Cerdic added with a grimace, “it is an excellent defensive position. I should know,” he snorted, “I defended it in the previous battle. There is a pinch point there where the woods come almost down to the river. It can't be outflanked from the West because a smaller river joins the Afen there so you would need to cross the Afen, this other river, the Nootr, and then recross the Afen to get to grips with the enemy.” Cerdic shook his head. “Even if we attempted it, it would take time, and time is something we don't have. There could be a thousand warriors riding here as we speak, only God knows how close they are. We must punch through these men blocking our path or we shall be overwhelmed.”
    Eofer sucked at his teeth as he thought. Suddenly an idea came to him. “There are a hundred men blocking our route ahead, and these men came from the fort at Clausentum.”
    Cerdic nodded.
    Eofer raised an eyebrow as he asked a question. “Tell me again how these men got here so quickly.”
    The British leader looked uncomprehending for a moment before a smile lit up his face. “Do it for me,” he said excitedly. “Quickly!”
     
    Eofer crouched in the shadows and ran his eyes across the scene before him. Hemming stood at his shoulder as the pair noted the number and position of the guards. The sweet smell of horse came to them as the animals grazed contentedly on the lush summer grasses which grew at the roadside, despite the noise of fighting which carried up from the vale beyond the tree line. The woodland bowed to the North there and the road fell away before it turned the corner and was lost from sight. The lads of Eofer's youth were fighting there alongside the other English crews and Cerdic's Britons, and he sent a plea to the gods to watch over them until he could enter the fray.
    Hemming turned his head and murmured to the eorle. “I can't see any more than those four, lord.”
    Eofer gave a small nod of agreement. “No, neither can I Thrush. Let's get on with it.”
    He estimated that the four young Britons who had been left to tend the horses were about ten or eleven winters. Their boyish excitement as they peered in the direction of the fighting, clearly told the experienced English warriors that here were four lads who had yet to endure the special terror which accompanied the push of shields as armies came together. A terror which could twist the guts and liquefy the innards as ably as any spear thrust. He would let them live if he could.
    He drew his sword with a flourish and glanced at the men of his duguth. “Fierce faces lads. Let them go unless they resist. They can do us little harm.”
    Eofer stalked from cover and glowered beneath the boar brow rim of his helm as he led the four warriors towards the backs of the gesticulating boys. Caught up in their excitement, the Britons were unaware of the danger until Eofer bellowed out as he closed on the group.
    “Go!”
    The boys spun around and Eofer almost laughed as he saw the excited smiles drain from their faces as their jaws gaped and a look of horror came over them. The larger of the boys was the first to recover and he began to lower his spear. The other boys looked to him, and Eofer knew that he had found the leader of the group. The delay had allowed him to close, and he brought Blood-Worm across with a contemptuous sweep. As the spear shaft was sent spinning from the boy's hands he reversed the blade and struck him on the side of his head with the flat of the blade.
    “This is your last chance boy, go now.”
    Despite the unlikelihood that any of the lads spoke Eofer's tongue, the instruction should have been obvious enough to even the dimmest of them. He jerked his head to the east to make it as clear as he could and barked out