Celtic Struggle III

There was a loud rumble and the ground began to shake. Donnchan, the Celtic leader was awoken from his sleep. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned. He stood, wobbled as he was still half asleep and opened up the doors of his large tent. He looked out and moved his eyes to see what it was that had woken him from his deep sleep. He looked to the training ground. Something strange was happening. Soldiers were running everywhere frantically, some attaching armour to their bodies, some slotting weapons into carriers around their waist. Something was wrong here. What could it be? He moved his eyes to the tents. Men were running around there as well. What was happening? And why hadn't he been told? Once again he moved his eyes until they settled on the hill that led deeper into the mountains. Something was up there. There were fire sticks being held. Suddenly one of the fire sticks started moving quickly down the hill and a call was heard faintly.

"Charge!"

Berthold was halfway down the hill when the troops moved off with a loud cry. Soldiers flooded the top of the hill. More and more hit the slope and raced down to the camp. Led by Berthold the men felt no fear in them. They would fight for their king. Whatever happened they would fight.

Berthold with his sword held high was the first to hit the camp however he was met with a big welcome. Arrows dropped around him. They were all off target. He had been lucky but that wouldn't last long. Luck never does in war.

Celtic infantry moved to meet the Saxon King as he galloped through their camp. Before they got there though, Berthold's horse suddenly buckled at the knees. Then the horse tipped over on to the ground. Berthold's right leg was trapped underneath the heavy body of the horse. The infantry was getting closer on both sides but the first to reach the king was a Celt holding a large battleaxe. The Celt laughed loudly and stared down into the eyes of Berthold. He lifted up the axe behind his head and prepared to swing when a large spear was thrust into his chest. Berthold moved his head to look at who had saved him. Gerthesnon stood with the end of the spear in his hand and yanked it out forcefully. The Celt gurgled and fell to the ground. At that point the infantries of both side met and the battle began. Gerthesnon and his scouts used their strength to pull Berthold and his horse away from the battle. They pulled him behind a large rock for cover.

"Father…are you alright?" Gerthesnon asked.

Berthold was breathing heavily after the horse was pulled off him.

"Yes…I…think so. Get back out there and attack with your men. They need you to lead them but leave your scouts with me here. We can defend ourselves. Go, now, go!"

He did. Gerthesnon broke cover from the large rock and ran back into the battle. Men dropped to the ground like dead flies as he swung his sword. Backed up by a vast infantry he succeeded in breaking the front line troops, though his men were quickly declining in numbers. The Celt berserkers with battleaxes wreaked havoc on the Saxon infantry who didn't know how to handle them.

While this small battle raged on between the infantries. General Falkis, who had taken over the lead of the cavalry decided to use a new tactic. He sent the archers on into battle and took full control over the cavalry. He had spotted a dark pass that led through the wall and seemed to come out on along the wall. He moved his cavalry to the side with him and took a look down the pass. It was black with a small opening of light somewhere up ahead.

"Sure we'll try it…if it doesn't work then we'll just…well actually I don't know what we'll do. Oh well, time's wasting."

With that he led his cavalry down the narrow past. Inside the pass it was wet and slimy. Uneven stones made up the floor and these stones were covered in some sort of slippery substance. Not an easy terrain to move through. Eventually they came to the end of the pass and emerged just as Falkis had thought, behind the enemy camp.

They got into formation and waited until further orders were given. They did not have to wait long.

"Right men, good luck, on my order we will charge at the back of their line and hopefully we will break through and ultimately drive them off our land. Ready…charge!"

The cavalry in formation moved off at a trot that turned quickly into a gallop. They threw up dust from the ground with their hooves and the ground rumbled. They weren't far from the Celtic backline when the Celtic leader, Donnchan emerged from his tent in full armour holding his sword.

A small group of the cavalry drew away from the group and started to gallop towards Donnchan. He saw them coming and got into position. As they got closer to him, Donnchan ran forward at them. He swung his sword and destroyed the small cavalry group. After doing that he ran over to the infantry battle and joined the fight against the Saxon army. He was hit in the battle. A deep wound from an axe blade. A wound that was halfway through his right arm. He dropped his sword with the pain and pulled back to his tent to be treated.

Meanwhile the cavalry where getting closer to the battle. They gave loud cries before eventually hitting the line. All the Celtic infantry were concentrated on the battle in hand and so were easily cut down when the cavalry hit.

Some armed with spears others with swords they galloped through the infantry killing whoever they fancied. Eventually all the infantry were destroyed one way or another. But they had not forgotten about the king. The cavalry pulled back while the infantry rested. Cavalry surrounded the tent. Gerthesnon stood at the front and as first to enter the tent. Some men dismounted from their horses and followed him in.

They found Donnchan sitting on a pile of cushions being looked after by what appeared to be two of his scouts. Gerthesnon turned to his men behind him and flicked his head towards Donnchan and his scouts. Two men stepped forward and drove their spears into the scouts' chests. They fell to the ground and slowly bled to death. One of the riders withdrew his spear and turned it on Donnchan. He drew it back and attempted to drive it forward but something was stopping him. He turned and saw Gerthesnon holding the end of the spear. He took it from the rider and drove it in himself, killing Donnchan. He had put an end to the Celtic leader.

They withdrew from the tent and ran or galloped to where the infantry were resting. Gerthesnon walked to the large rock and saw the scouts leaning over his father who was lying on the ground with his eyes closed. One of the scouts looked up. Tears were in his eyes.

"Sir, I'm afraid our king is dead. His leg was broken, he gave out and died. Now you are our new king."

Gerthesnon stared down at his father.

"Get him on a stretcher or something…and carry him back to the city and we'll give him a burial."

The whole army regrouped together and started the march back up the hill and through the mountains to home.