‘Understood, my lord.’
‘Gentlemen,’ said the Baron, with a rare smile. ‘A magnificent opportunity lies ahead of us. In the south there is a great panic concerning these rebel Highlanders, and when we have defeated them the King will make sure you are rewarded for your efforts. But remember this, though they are barbarians and scum they still know how to fight. I want the woman alive; I will send her in chains to the capital. As to the rest, slaughter them to a man. God is with us, gentlemen. Now let us be about our duties.’
The Baron strode to his tent and ducked below the flap. Once inside he turned his attention to the Highlander, sitting flanked by two guards. The man was of medium height, with greasy dark hair and a wide mouth. He did not look the Baron in the eye.
‘Your information was correct,’ said the Baron. ‘The bitch has fortified the hill-top.’
‘As I told you, my lord,’ said Bakris Tooth-gone, starting to rise from his chair. But a soldier pressed his hand on Bakris’ shoulder, easing him back into the seat.
‘Treachery always fascinates me,’ said the Baron, flicking his fingers and pointing to a jug of wine. A servant filled a goblet and passed it to his lord; the Baron sipped it. ‘Why would one of Sigarni’s captains betray her?”
‘It’s a lost cause, my lord,’ said Bakris bitterly. ‘They’re all going to die. And I want to live.What’s wrong with that? In this life a man must look out for himself. I’ve never had nothing. Now by your leave, I’ll have some gold and some land.’
‘Gold and land,’ echoed the Baron. ‘I have sworn to see every Highlander slain and you are a Highlander. Why should I not kill you?’
Bakris grinned, showing stained and broken teeth. ‘You won’t get them all in this one battle, lord. I know all the hiding places. I was a forester; I can lead your soldiers to where they run to. And I’ll serve you well, lord.’
‘I think you will,’ the Baron agreed.
Three servants set about dressing the Baron in his black armour, buckling his breastplate, hooking the gorget into place, attaching his greaves and hinged knee protectors. Accoutred for war, he strode to his black stallion and was helped into the saddle.
Touching heels to the stallion’s flanks, he rode to the front of the battle line and lifted his arm.
The army moved on towards the mouth of the Duane Pass.
To the Baron’s surprise there were no flights of arrows from the rearing cliff faces on either side, nor any sign of defenders on the gentle slopes to left and right. Ahead the sun glimmered on the shield wall of the defenders, as they ringed the flat-topped hill half a mile distant.
A long time ago the Outlanders themselves had employed the shield-ring defence. It was strong against cavalry, but weak against a concerted attack from infantry, with support from archers. Bowmen could send volley after volley of arrows over the shields, cutting away at the heart of the defenders.
The Baron rode on. Now he could see the tightly packed clansmen, and just make out the silver-armoured figure standing in the front line.
I should be grateful to you, he thought, for you have made my glory all the greater. Swinging in the saddle, he glanced back at his fighting men. If the losses were too light the victory would appear shallow, too high and he would be deemed an incompetent. Around three hundred dead would be perfect, he thought.
Leofric rode past him on the right, leading the cavalry in columns of three. On the left, Chaldis led his fifteen hundred men up the western slope to the enemy’s right. ‘That’s good, Chaldis,’ shouted the Baron admiringly. ‘Let them see where you are heading; it will give them time to think about the fate of their wives and sons. Fire some buildings as soon as you can. I want them to see the smoke!’
‘Aye, my lord,’ the captain replied.
The Baron rode on, leading his infantry to the foot of the hill but remaining out of bowshot. Custom demanded that he give the enemy the opportunity to surrender, but today was not a time to consider custom. Good God, they might accept!