to feed itself for only a matter of days in enemy territory, so, had Lowa pulled her people up into impregnable Maidun Castle and closed the gates, the Dumnonians would have gone home soon enough.
The only good thing he’d heard that she’d done was to tell the Dumnonian king that they were going to attack the night before. With any luck he would have kept his troops awake in readiness, while the Maidun forces had slept. And, Dug admitted to himself, he didn’t know everything. There might have been more to the plan than immediately met the eye. Whatever, it didn’t matter. He just had to follow orders, give orders, and fight.
Down by his feet were two long spears and a large, hefty shield. They’d been sneaked forward once the ranks were already in place so that the Dumnonians wouldn’t know they were there. That was pretty tricksy and should really muck up a chariot charge, so it was possible, he supposed, that Lowa had other schemes in place.
Another positive was that the breeze was an easterly on the Maidunites backs, rather than the more common south-westerly. That was a spot of luck, since their projectiles would go further than the enemy’s, but it was hardly a gale, and there was no way Lowa could claim credit for the direction of the wind.
Dug’s thoughts were interrupted by a rattling blare of bronze trumpets with wooden clackers in their mouths. They rang out first from the Dumnonian army, then from their own. The Dumnonian front line shuddered as one, then rolled forwards. Here we go. Dug felt the contents of his stomach lurch and asked Makka the god of war to ensure, if nothing else, that he didn’t shit in his leather battle trousers. If he was going to the Otherworld today he wanted to arrive clean-arsed.
“Ready!” he shouted, looking around at his men and women, then added, “Arms’ length between you all!” more for something to say than anything else – they were already well spaced. They looked back and him and nodded; some were wide-eyed with their lips parted in fear, some serious, some wild-eyed and froth-mouthed. They were mostly armoured in leather like him, a few wore iron helmets like his. Most were armed either with hefty iron swords or stout spears. He was the only one with a hammer. Very few, thank Toutatis, looked like they were going to flee before the fighting had begun, so that at least was a great improvement on some battles he’d been in. He looked back to the Dumnonians and spotted a large dragonfly, flying between the armies as if it was just another day.
From horseback in the centre, atop one of the burial mounds that clung on to Sarum Plain’s uplands like a well-spaced migration of giant slugs that had died and solidified, Lowa watched as the Dumnonian chariots charged her right flank. She’d sent Atlas to the right with the infantry to encourage Samalur to line his heavy chariots there. The young Dumnonian king had obliged. With his massively superior force, Samalur had done the sensible thing and matched her battle lines on both sides, heavy chariots on the left, infantry on the right, light chariots and cavalry in reserve ready to zoom wherever they were needed. Numerically superior, the Dumnonians had no incentive to try anything more advanced than the classic “infantry attacks chariots, chariots attack infantry” tactics.
Dug was leading a section on the right, she remembered once again, about to be hit by thousands of thundering chariots and their crews of murderous, heavily armed Dumnonians. Atlas had told her that he’d come back to Maidun offering his services, and that he’d been given a company to lead. She was hurt that he hadn’t been to see her on his return, but then again it wasn’t long since she’d woken him up by having sex with Ragnall on the other side of the campfire. How could she begin to explain and apologise for that? She banished Dug from her thoughts. This was no time for childish romanticising.
Thinking of children … it was irksome that Spring wouldn’t use her magic. If the girl had made Lowa feel like she did when she’d fought the chariot and Chamanca, she would have taken on the whole Dumnonian army herself. But Lowa believed that she’d been telling the truth about not being able to use her magic, because the girl was a terrible liar. Lowa was sure she’d lied about using her