CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“He hath called an assembly against me to crush my young men.”

LAMENTATIONS 1:15

THE next day looked to become unseasonably warm and humid once the sun fully rose, but at dawn it was still pleasant enough as the army of Gwynedd took up its battle formations. Well before first light, the men had been roused, their captains moving among them to supervise rationing and arming before the priests came to perform their sacred functions. Often, final sacraments went hand in hand with final briefings, for there was much to say and little time to say it.

By dawn the men were in position, column on column of them, row on row—nearly two thousand mounted knights, twice that many archers, and the rest foot soldiers. The men were silent as they formed up, even the horses strangely calm in the wan morning light. Of enemy activity there was as yet little sign, though the men of Gwynedd knew that they were there and preparing, less than a mile away. Whispered questions rippled through the ranks as the sun climbed in the eastern sky behind the enemy and there still came no sign whether or when battle would be joined.

On a small knoll to the right of the center lines, King Kelson and his commanders had gathered to survey the site of the coming battle. The dawn had brought with it the not unexpected sight of severed heads stuck on pikes all along the leading edge of the enemy encampment. Warin and Nigel were taking turns scanning the faces of the slain with their glasses, hoping to make positive identifications.

The distance was too great, and decay too far progressed, for any real recognition, but the spectacle was having its desired effect on the waiting men. Though the troops of Gwynedd knew that Wencit was trying to undermine their morale, that the heads might not even belong to slain Cassani men, still they could not be sure. Eyes strained across the mile-wide space separating the two armies, and many lips framed speculations; but it was all futile. Frayed nerves grew yet more ragged as the hour wore on.

Kelson, meanwhile, was absorbed in his own concerns. He studied a map as he sat his horse, a hard biscuit clutched forgotten in one hand as he leaned to hear what Morgan was saying about the location of reserve cavalry units. The young king appeared rested and confident, but his gaze kept returning to the piked heads along the enemy’s front lines. There was, as yet, no sign of Wencit or any of his ranking officers, and the enemy ranks stood at ease, row on row, as the sun rose higher still.

After a while, Bishops Arilan and Cardiel left their troops and rode up the knoll where Kelson sat, joining Duncan and a worried-looking General Gloddruth a few yards from the king’s side. It was Arilan who first noticed the beginnings of movement behind the enemy lines, and kneed his horse closer to touch Kelson’s sleeve and point as a gap opened and a small contingent of horsemen emerged. The lead rider bore a traditional white parley banner.