Taliesin was right. The Aenglisc did not attack in the night. Soon after dawn, the smells from the Aenglisc cook fires drifted across the hill fort. Ursula had slept badly. She had been cold and the thought of leading a charge of Sarmatian horsemen down the steep scarp slope of Baddon Hill filled her with panic.
She was terrified of failing them. She kept on imagining herself falling off as she led the proud horsemen in the charge; or worse, failing to jump the broad ditch at the foot of the hill and breaking her horse’s legs. Moreover she had relatively little experience with the long spear, or kontos, which the Sarmatians used to such good effect in training. She was out of her depth and drowning in the hostile waters of ‘what if?’.
More prosaically, Ursula hated not being able to shower or bathe. Like everyone else she had slept in her clothes and she felt dirty and unkempt. Larcius had lent her a comb and she had braided her hair, though it was too fine to stay in place for long and she would have to tuck it into her helmet when it came to the battle. She felt sick at the thought of battle. She was not ready.
Dan was eating his breakfast standing up, chatting to Frontalis. She felt a pang of envy and annoyance. He had abdicated his role as a hero, why had she not had the wit to do the same? Suddenly, the air around her crackled with static, lifting the fine golden hairs on her arms. Magic! Rhonwen!
Ursula ran for the battlements, followed a moment later by Dan.
‘What is it?’
Before she could think her reply it became all too obvious. The sky darkened and the air became black with demonic forms. Rhonwen had modified and improved the trick she’d tried against Ursula earlier. Above their heads, hideous dog-faced men feasted on Roman soldiers, while great vultures with monstrous beaks and human eyes flapped their black wings and seemed to drop severed heads onto the terrified Romans. It was like a scene from some vision of hell painted by Hieronymus Bosch.
‘Sorcery!’ screamed Brother Frontalis and he began to sing in his strong baritone, ‘Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, yet will I fear no evil …’
‘It’s an illusion!’ cried Ursula, wishing she had a more powerful voice.
Men were kneeling on the ground and crossing themselves, while the pagans spat curses at the demonic host.
Arturus took control. He raised his own shield, which was painted with a golden cross, outlined in crimson against a ground as white as chalk and egg white mixed could make it. The cross was vivid in the eerie light. Arturus shouted, ‘What you see is not real. It is sorcery and illusion. We are not men to flinch from the semblance of evil. We must be strong and be ready to repel the real enemies – the Aenglisc. They are counting on our disarray to conquer us. To the battlements!’
Arturus’s ringing cry was echoed by the clarion call of the lituus signalling action. Overhead, the demonic throng darkened and deepened like a thundercloud and the air was filled with a cacophony of screams, shrieks of pain, and bestial cries that made Ursula shrink with fear. She knew it was an illusion but it was a powerful one that blotted out the sun and made everything, even Arturus’s shield, grey and colourless. It made even her allies look ghastly and cadaverous. The men followed orders but many covered their heads with their shield. They rallied a little at Arturus’s courage, but the horses reared wildly in their stables and not even the skilled Sarmatians could keep them calm. Braveheart raised his massive head and bayed an unearthly cry. A chill settled round Ursula’s heart. Dan was battered by the overwhelming tide of fear. He grabbed Ursula’s hand and dragged her towards Taliesin, who was inspecting the illusion with a critical eye.
‘Rhonwen’s improved, I’ll give you that. Not bad.’
‘Taliesin!’ Dan forced the one-time bard to face him. Taliesin seemed to react to a crisis with unhelpful levity. ‘Taliesin! What did you do to make the sound of Bryn’s singing so loud yesterday?’
Taliesin looked shamefaced. ‘I wondered if you’d realise. Because you helped me when I was stuck in merlin form, I was able to use a little of your mental power to amplify the sound, so it rang in the minds of those around me.’
‘You did what?’ Dan sounded both angry and bemused.
‘Dan, it doesn’t matter,’ Ursula broke in urgently. ‘If you have an idea, tell us! This is horrible even for me and I can feel the magic Rhonwen’s using and I know that what is up there is not real.’
Dan spoke rapidly and urgently. ‘I need Bryn to sing something strong and powerful, loud enough to deafen the enemy and show Rhonwen we’re not afraid. It would hearten the men and it might make her stop this monstrosity.’ He waved at the hellish apparition that was still raining severed heads down into the fortress, though no solid object thudded to the ground.
‘Bryn, can you sing something really powerful? Taliesin, can you help me?’
Taliesin smiled. ‘You can do it yourself – what you must do is imagine you are shouting something as loudly as you can, something good, something that makes you feel safe and cared for. Don’t actually shout, of course, but mix that good feeling in with Bryn’s song. It isn’t as difficult as it sounds.’
Brother Frontalis stepped forward and held Dan’s hand. He met Dan’s worried look with his frank and confident gaze. ‘I told you all that is good comes from God. I know it, and Taliesin knows it too. All will be well, Gawain, take my faith and send it out to all the men, for no evil, real or feigned, can fail to fall at the Lord’s name.’ Frontalis was unafraid and totally sincere.
‘I don’t know if I can make this work,’ Dan faltered.
‘Dan just do it! I know you can!’ Ursula clapped her hand on his shoulder rather hard, which gave him the jolt he needed.
Dan looked at Bryn, who was terrified of the horrible drama taking place overhead. Bryn’s eyes were huge and frightened looking, but he did not say anything nor did he cower away as many of the grown men were doing.
‘Sing the AlleluiaI taught you, Bryn,’ said Brother Frontalis. ‘Let the sound soar, like I showed you.’ Brother Frontalis’s confidence seemed to relax Bryn slightly.
‘Do we need to stand at the battlements so Rhonwen and the Aenglisc can see us?’
‘That’s a good idea. But take Bryn away, Ursula, if it looks like he’s in danger.’
Bryn was about to protest but Dan added sternly, ‘You are our secret weapon, Bryn, and a good soldier does not expose such a thing unnecessarily.’
They followed the men still forming a defensive wall along the battlements and found their place next to Arturus, who waved his shield defiantly at the enemy.
Rhonwen’s magic was even more disconcerting from the height of the battlements. It seemed as though they stared into a sea of blood in which Combrogi soldiers lay in great torment being torn limb from limb by beasts of nightmare. The air was so alive with magic that Ursula wanted to cry with frustration. If only she could still reach the magic she could have destroyed Rhonwen’s illusions so simply. She would swap all her Boar Skull strength for one moment of power, when the lightning energies of the magic coursed their wild rhythm through her veins. But, it was not a choice she had. Ursula could see the Aenglisc advancing stealthily beneath the illusion of a sea of blood.
‘Do it, Dan! They’re coming this way – the real Aenglisc. I don’t think anyone else can see them.’
The Aenglisc looked uncomfortable as though they themselves expected to be set upon by the beasts of Rhonwen’s conjuring, but they were brave men and they followed their leaders with swords and seaxs drawn.
Dan nodded at Bryn, who shut his eyes against all the horrors and sang. The first tentative notes were swallowed up in the demonic cries that were themselves magically amplified, but as Bryn gained his confidence, his voice grew stronger, until it truly soared as Frontalis had instructed. Dan opened himself to Frontalis’s emotions, letting down the guard he’d been so carefully constructing. It was like relaxing a tensed muscle. It was like forcing himself to swim out of his depth for the first time. He had to allow himself to fully experience Frontalis’s faith and send it out like a great, invisible psychic blast to hearten the Combrogi and confound the Aenglisc. It was an unnerving experience but quite unlike the bewildering loss of self he had experienced with Ursula. He found it easiest to imagine he was a kind of amplifier taking input from Bryn and Frontalis and projecting it as loudly as possible through the bizarre powers of his mind. It was instinctive. He could not describe what he did, he only knew that it seemed to work, for the effect was immediate and tangible. The Combrogi stopped cowering beneath their shields and straightened their backs. They were still as threatened by the lowering evil above and around them, but their fear was dissipated by the purifying clarity of Bryn’s unearthly soprano and Frontalis’s unshakeable faith.
Arturus raised his shield, this time in triumph, and his gesture was answered by several hundred Combrogi soldiers who responded by raising their own.
Ursula felt Rhonwen’s illusion waver as her confidence was temporarily dented by the impact of Bryn’s clarion song. Ursula was not the only one to notice. For one brief moment, the illusion of the sea of blood shimmered like a heat haze and dissolved. It was long enough to reveal the presence of the advancing Aenglisc. The Combrogi let loose a shower of stones. When Arturus gave the word the four men given charge of the precious ballista leapt into action, raining down huge round missiles on the unsuspecting heads of the enemy. Bryn’s glorious Alleluia became a still more triumphant anthem. The dark cloud overhead paled to grey, and then drifted apart so that fragments of demon floated overhead, becoming gradually less cohesive until they ceased to exist at all. The somewhat cold, wintry sun shocked them all with its sudden, hard brilliance. In the unforgiving morning light the blood river appeared far less convincing and Rhonwen let it go.
Ursula felt the sudden sagging relaxation of her muscles as the magic ceased. She had clenched her whole body against her desire to wield the magic and now that it was gone she felt shaky and tearful. The monstrous shrieks had ended abruptly as if someone had turned off a broadcast from hell. Bryn’s song, now solitary and sublime, rang in Ursula’s inner ear. She was ambushed by an unexpected sense of peace. The Aenglisc had run away and the first attack was over. It was clear that the Aenglisc had abandoned their attempt at capturing the fort by stealth. Even firing blind, the Combrogi archers had struck a large number of the enemy, who had themselves been blinded by Rhonwen’s illusion and therefore failed to raise their shields in time. The surrounding fields were stained with fast-congealing blood and the corpses of men, who only minutes before had been as alive as Ursula, littered the ground.
The High King Arturus ordered a ceasefire to allow the dead and wounded to be collected. He had strapped his shield over his back and it caught the sun as he moved – a gold cross on a white ground as clear and unsullied as Bryn’s voice. As the sun reached the zenith of midday Dan still amplified Bryn’s jubilant Alleluia and Bryn sang on.