had ridden up to claim it that morning.
It was a standard medium-sized hillfort. Nothing compared to Maidun Castle – few were – but still a useful gain for Zadar, and totally defendable if you didn’t do something really stupid like pour all your people out of it into a weak line of inexperienced infantry in a field perfectly suited to your mounted enemy. Its white chalk-hewn ramparts rose from a ditch as deep as the walls were high. There were tufts of vegetation on the wall and too much scree in the ditch, Lowa noticed. That would have to be fixed. There should be as few handholds as possible on the rock-cut walls, and a hillfort should have nice clear ditches, preferably with sharpened stakes dug into the bottom, or at least a liberal sprinkling of large caltrops to make anybody leaping into it regret that they had. The spiked oak palisade that crowned the rampart was in reasonable repair, but it was vertical, which irritated Lowa. The palisade should have been canted back to the same angle as the bank, so that attackers couldn’t shelter in its lee. Fort builders should know that.
Rather unoriginally, fresh heads had been impaled on some of the palisade’s spikes.
“Is that King Mylor, do you reckon?” asked Aithne, pointing at a big head in a plain, rusty iron helmet with a swollen black tongue resting on stiff beard bristles and something stuffed into its mouth.
“Doubt it. That’s a boar necklace in his mouth. He’s one of the few Warriors they had. Mylor was captured. Zadar’ll probably sell him. Although you can’t get as much for a king as you used to be able to.” Or he’ll keep him as a pet , she thought.
Lowa surprised herself by shuddering at the idea. Aithne’s doubts about the murdered children had begun to get to her too. What was wrong with her? Why should she suddenly care anything for a bunch of loser kids and their moron king? If they’d stayed in their stupid fort, she thought, Mylor would still be ruling happily, those heads would be attached to their bodies, the nine sacrificial children would be a great deal happier, and the people whose hut she’d taken would be settling down to their evening meal. Last night they’d been a family. Now they were carrion.
As they passed through the gates, Lowa was convinced that the four heavily armoured guards looked at her and her girls like foxes might look at chickens behind a badly made fence. She thought she saw one whisper something to another, then look at her and smirk. But Lowa had seen people who panicked about things that weren’t there, who had the arrogance to believe that everyone was out to get them. There was no way she was becoming one of them. Food. Food would help. Booze would help more.
Aithne took Lowa’s wrist and pulled her closer.
“Lowa, surely it’s not right that we’re killing all these people. They say it wasn’t like this before Zadar. They say it was so peaceful that hillforts were falling apart. It can’t be right that everyone needs to build them again. It can’t be right that we’re sacrificing children. The Earth Mother cannot approve.”
“If Danu doesn’t like it, why doesn’t she do something?”
“Maybe we should do something for her?”
“Aithne, seriously, stop this. Unless you really, really want to end the evening impaled on a stake?”
Aithne smiled saucily. “Well, I sort of do…”
“That’s better.”
The gateway opened up into the wide hillfort interior and chattering knots of conquering Maidun soldiers. Lowa fixed on her party face and plunged into her least favourite form of mêlée.
Chapter 7
D ug Sealskinner ran. He knew it was too late. His feet sank into sand and marram grass cut his hands as he hauled himself up the dune. The dune shouldn’t have been that high. A small part of his mind realised that he was dreaming, but it couldn’t make itself heard over the much larger part of his mind which was gibbering in a rolling boil of horror because it knew what he
It was a standard medium-sized hillfort. Nothing compared to Maidun Castle – few were – but still a useful gain for Zadar, and totally defendable if you didn’t do something really stupid like pour all your people out of it into a weak line of inexperienced infantry in a field perfectly suited to your mounted enemy. Its white chalk-hewn ramparts rose from a ditch as deep as the walls were high. There were tufts of vegetation on the wall and too much scree in the ditch, Lowa noticed. That would have to be fixed. There should be as few handholds as possible on the rock-cut walls, and a hillfort should have nice clear ditches, preferably with sharpened stakes dug into the bottom, or at least a liberal sprinkling of large caltrops to make anybody leaping into it regret that they had. The spiked oak palisade that crowned the rampart was in reasonable repair, but it was vertical, which irritated Lowa. The palisade should have been canted back to the same angle as the bank, so that attackers couldn’t shelter in its lee. Fort builders should know that.
Rather unoriginally, fresh heads had been impaled on some of the palisade’s spikes.
“Is that King Mylor, do you reckon?” asked Aithne, pointing at a big head in a plain, rusty iron helmet with a swollen black tongue resting on stiff beard bristles and something stuffed into its mouth.
“Doubt it. That’s a boar necklace in his mouth. He’s one of the few Warriors they had. Mylor was captured. Zadar’ll probably sell him. Although you can’t get as much for a king as you used to be able to.” Or he’ll keep him as a pet , she thought.
Lowa surprised herself by shuddering at the idea. Aithne’s doubts about the murdered children had begun to get to her too. What was wrong with her? Why should she suddenly care anything for a bunch of loser kids and their moron king? If they’d stayed in their stupid fort, she thought, Mylor would still be ruling happily, those heads would be attached to their bodies, the nine sacrificial children would be a great deal happier, and the people whose hut she’d taken would be settling down to their evening meal. Last night they’d been a family. Now they were carrion.
As they passed through the gates, Lowa was convinced that the four heavily armoured guards looked at her and her girls like foxes might look at chickens behind a badly made fence. She thought she saw one whisper something to another, then look at her and smirk. But Lowa had seen people who panicked about things that weren’t there, who had the arrogance to believe that everyone was out to get them. There was no way she was becoming one of them. Food. Food would help. Booze would help more.
Aithne took Lowa’s wrist and pulled her closer.
“Lowa, surely it’s not right that we’re killing all these people. They say it wasn’t like this before Zadar. They say it was so peaceful that hillforts were falling apart. It can’t be right that everyone needs to build them again. It can’t be right that we’re sacrificing children. The Earth Mother cannot approve.”
“If Danu doesn’t like it, why doesn’t she do something?”
“Maybe we should do something for her?”
“Aithne, seriously, stop this. Unless you really, really want to end the evening impaled on a stake?”
Aithne smiled saucily. “Well, I sort of do…”
“That’s better.”
The gateway opened up into the wide hillfort interior and chattering knots of conquering Maidun soldiers. Lowa fixed on her party face and plunged into her least favourite form of mêlée.
Chapter 7
D ug Sealskinner ran. He knew it was too late. His feet sank into sand and marram grass cut his hands as he hauled himself up the dune. The dune shouldn’t have been that high. A small part of his mind realised that he was dreaming, but it couldn’t make itself heard over the much larger part of his mind which was gibbering in a rolling boil of horror because it knew what he
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