THEY WAITED. HAGAN regretted the fact there had not been time to get water before they had climbed the ridge. There was little cover on the plateau at the top and the sun beat mercilessly down on him and the others, though at least they could be thankful that it was moving down the sky and the blistering heat of midday was long past.
They took the opportunity of getting some rest but once Hagan had recovered a little he found himself beset by a strange mixture of boredom and anxiety. He was bored because after the intense activity and terrifying excitement of battle, they were now sitting around with nothing to do. All the while though, there was the very real danger that the Huns would return with reinforcements to take the ridge.
From the distance of the height of the ridge, Hagan was able to take a detached look at the battlefield below. It was turning into a mess. The single battle line of the Alliance that had stretched from one side of the plain to the bottom of the ridge he stood on was now split in two. The Romans, the rest of the Burgundars, the Franks, Saxons and others had been pushed back and now stood at an angle, half facing the ridge he was on top of. Gepids and Hun foot warriors attacked them in waves. Wave after wave of Hun cavalry rode to and from the shield walls, swirling in great movements that made Hagan think he was watching the movements of whirlwinds across the plain instead of horsemen. The Roman archers shot back, driving the Hun cavalry away whenever they got too close.
The Visigoths who had started with their right flank to the ridge had been pushed right around so now their backs were against it. Attila’s Ostrogoth foot soldiers were pressing them hard and the Visigoths had lost so many men that the right end of their line now only stretched perhaps halfway along the length of the ridge below.
The bodies of men and horses were scattered all over the plains. The smoke from the fires Wodnas and his men were setting drifted in the wind across the plains, obscuring parts of the conflict so it was hard to get a clear picture of what was really happening.
Hagan hoped the old man knew what he was doing. The smoke was drifting towards the enemy but if the wind changed it was just as likely to confuse, choke and blind the Alliance warriors as Attila’s.
Hagan could see the Visigoths were struggling and the Ostrogoths were pressing them hard. More and more Hun cavalry were concentrating their attacks on them too, like hounds scenting blood on a hunt. The Visigoths were cut off from the rest of the Alliance army, outnumbered and would be near to exhaustion. It was only a matter of time before they collapsed.
‘Horsemen approaching,’ a Bear Warrior shouted.
There was a brief moment of anxiety that the Huns were returning, then Hagan saw that the horsemen were riding up the steep end of the ridge, which meant they must belong to the Alliance. As they got closer Hagan could make out the white eagle banner flying about them, which confirmed they were Visigoths. There was another contingent with them as well. As they got closer Hagan saw it was Brynhild’s Valkyrjur cavalry. Riding at their head was Brynhild herself. All the troopers had scratches and slashes on their shields and some had wounds to their forearms or thighs, bound with bloodied bandages and showing that they had already been in action that day.
Hagan was relieved to see that this combined force was more than enough to hold off the Huns if they decided to try to take the ridge again.
The leader of the Visigoths pulled off his helmet, unleashing a tumble of sweaty black curly hair. Hagan recognised the young man as Thorismund, the son of King Theodoric of the Visigoths.
He and Brynhild dismounted and approached Hagan as he looked out over the plains below.
‘Good work holding this place,’ Thorismund said. ‘My God. It looks like Hell down there.’
He stared at the panoply of battle unfolding at the bottom of the ridge.
‘Your folk are doing well,’ Hagan said. ‘They are holding their own but they’re under a lot of pressure. If Attila sends any more men against them I wonder if they can continue to hold out.’
‘My father is down there with them,’ the young man said. There was both pride and concern in his tone of voice. ‘I hope he can help encourage them. I’d like to get down there to help him rather than sitting up here where it is safe.’
‘Lord Thorismund—’ Hagan started to speak then stopped. It was clear that the young man did not know his father was dead and he wondered how he might begin to break the news to him. Then he decided there was no easy way to go about it.
‘Lord Thorismund, your father is dead,’ Hagan said. ‘I am very sorry.’
Thorismund looked at him for a long moment. His mouth was half open. He looked as if he were trying to decide if Hagan’s words were true or not.
‘How did he die?’ the young man said. He looked away, his voice thick.
‘He was killed by an Ostrogoth spear,’ Hagan said. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’
Thorismund nodded. He wandered a little way off. It was obvious to Hagan that the young man was struggling to come to terms with this news and he did not want his men to see that. Hagan was amazed that among all this death, one more could strike someone as being so personal.
‘So you’ve survived, Hagan,’ Brynhild said, sauntering up to stand beside him. ‘Despite Gunderic’s best efforts.’
‘He has let his queen ride into battle?’ Hagan said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I would have thought he would not have allowed you to upstage him.’
‘I don’t care what Gunderic thinks,’ Brynhild said. ‘He doesn’t know where I am anyway. He believes I still hide in my wagon, too cowed and intimidated to come out. But I’m not. Not now. I will never hide again. Today I ride for my revenge.’
‘Revenge?’ Hagan said. For the first time he caught the strange glint in her eye. It was more than anger. Brynhild seemed a little unhinged.
‘I know what you did,’ she spat. Her white teeth were clenched. ‘You and the other two: the treacherous Nibelungs. My so-called old friends. How you must have laughed about it! Stupid old Brynhild. She’ll never know the difference.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ Hagan said.
‘You do,’ Brynhild said. ‘Gunhild said it was all your idea. You tricked me into breaking my oath. Now I must act like it was all true, or seem an oathbreaker – a nothing – to my own people.’
Her voice was cracking a little. Hagan’s face flushed crimson.
‘Brynhild, I am sorry,’ Hagan said. ‘Telling Sigurd to switch places with Gunderic to leap the chasm was something that came to me in an instant. I hoped Sigurd would fail in the attempt. I did it for the sake of Gunderic, who I thought was our old friend. I did not realise then what Gunderic was really like…’
Shame choked the rest of the words in his throat.
I’ve known what he was really like since Vorbetomagus, Hagan thought.
‘Well you know now, don’t you?’ Brynhild said. ‘And do you really think he’s any different than the spoiled brat of a boy we used to play with in Vorbetomagus? Did you help him rape me, as well as that big buffoon of a Volsung?’
‘Rape you?’ Hagan held up both hands. ‘Now wait, Brynhild—’
‘Hun cavalry, lord,’ one of the Bear Warriors shouted from the edge of the plateau. ‘You’d better take a look.’
For a moment Hagan and Brynhild glared at each other.
‘We shall finish this talk another time,’ Hagan said. ‘There are more pressing things to deal with right now.’
Brynhild nodded. They both jogged over to the end of the plateau. Thorismund joined them. The Burgundar warrior who had shouted was pointing with his spear to a large band of horsemen riding out from the Hun encampment at the far end of the plains.
‘They must be Attila’s reserve cavalry,’ Thorismund said. ‘He is making his last play. This ridge must be important to whatever his strategy is.’
‘They’ll be fresh then,’ Hagan said. ‘Look at how hard they are riding. Those horses haven’t been running around in the sun all day. If they take this ridge and attack the Visigoths from behind, it will be the end for your folk, Lord Thorismund.’
‘There are more of them than we have up here,’ the Bear Warrior who had called them over said. ‘Can we stop them taking the ridge?’
‘They have to fight uphill,’ Hagan said. ‘That could take away the advantage they have in numbers.’
The Huns disappeared into a swathe of drifting smoke. When they emerged again they were almost halfway across the plain.
‘Wait,’ Brynhild said. ‘I don’t think they’re coming up here.’
They all watched and saw that though the Huns were riding their way, their trajectory meant they would arrive perhaps halfway along the ridge, well past the long slope the Huns had previously approached the ridge from.
‘It’s too steep to climb up down there,’ Hagan said. ‘They can’t be coming to attack this ridge.’
‘They’re going to join the attack on the Visigoths’ shield wall,’ Brynhild said.
‘Attila must believe my people are at breaking point,’ Thorismund said. ‘His scouts will have told him.’
‘I’m sorry to say he may be right,’ Hagan said.
Thorismund clenched his fists. Then he turned to Hagan and Brynhild.
‘If my people fall there is little point in us defending this ridge,’ he said. ‘We will all be cut off from the rest of the Alliance army anyway.’
‘So what do you intend to do?’ Hagan said.
‘If we ride down the back of the slope they won’t see us coming,’ Thorismund said. ‘Then we can cut left and hit them in their flanks. We can take them by surprise and stop them. And we’ll be to the rear of Attila’s warriors. We can hit them all from behind.’
Hagan looked at the vista below. Thorismund was right. The Huns and their allies had pushed the Roman Alliance so far back they now were to the left of him and the others on the top of the ridge. If they could get behind them they could cause all sorts of chaos.
‘We don’t have much time,’ Hagan said. ‘Mount up.’
He and eleven of the Bear Warriors took hold of horses they had taken from the dead Hun scouts, then they joined the Visigoth cavalry and the Valkyrjur at the edge of the plateau. Beneath them the chaos of the smoke-streaked battlefield lay.
‘My father’s spirit cries out for vengeance,’ Thorismund shouted. ‘I hear him calling on the wind. Let us ride down on these filthy Huns and Ostrogoth bastards and wreak havoc on them.’
Hagan tied the laces of his helmet and looked around. To his surprise Brynhild was grinning.
‘You said it looked like Hell down there, Thorismund,’ she said. ‘So come. Let us all ride into Hell together.’