“But I will not,” remarked Hafgan. “I am too old. Let me rather support my lord in imprecations against the enemy.”

“Do that,” said Elphin, flashing a malicious grin. “And let the whole stinking pack save themselves if they can!”

There were hurried farewells throughout the caer and the warband rode out. They galloped north in three columns along the coast searching for ships on the horizon, or already beached. They saw none until late in the afternoon when the sun was already sinking toward twilight. One of Elphin’s scouts returned to the lead column with the news: “Boats, lord, twenty by count. Still far out. They do not appear to be coming in.”

“It is late. No doubt they are waiting to slip in under cover of darkness,” said Cuall.

“Where is the likeliest landing?” asked Elphin.

“A sandy cove lies not two miles north of here. I think they might make for that,” the scout answered.

“I know the place. We wait for them there, then. Take two men with you and ride to Caer Seiont. Tell the tribune we will engage the enemy here and join the legion as soon as possible.”

The scout acknowledged his orders with a Roman salute, and a moment later three men rode off. The three columns moved off to establish themselves in strategic positions around the cove and to wait for nightfall and the landing of the enemy.

The early hours of the night passed uneventfully. Elphin’s warband watched and waited quietly. They ate cold rations and slept in their armor, their weapons at hand. On the sea there was no movement, although the late-rising moon revealed that the raiders were there, sitting off the coast.

“What are they waiting for?” wondered Cuall. He and Elphin were huddled together on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea, well above the beach. It had just passed midnight and still the boats had not moved.

“Look to the northern sky,” said a voice behind them.

“Ah, Taliesin, you join us,” said Cuall. “To the north, you say? What is to the north? I see nothing.”

“That bank of cloud-you can see the lower edge as a thin line in the moonlight. Just there above the water. They are waiting for complete darkness.”

“And they will get it,” snorted Elphin. “By Lieu, they show a canny streak! When did they get so smart?”

“You have taught them, Father. You and the Romans. They know that word of the raid has spread by now and that they will likely be met. So they wait and nurse their strength.”

“Let them do what they can,” humphed Cuall.

“We might as well sleep,” Taliesin suggested. “The clouds are moving slowly; the ships will not come to shore.”

Elphin posted a watch at the outcrop and slept, to be awakened while it was still dark by a harsh whisper in his ear. “A light, Lord Elphin. I think it was a signal. The ships might be moving.”

The king was already on his feet before the message was fully delivered. “Alert the commanders. Tell them to meet me here.”

They met: Cuall, Heridd, Toringad, Redynvar, Nerth, Ma-bon-all of Elphin’s commanders, each with charge of a contingent of fifty men, a system they had adopted from the Romans. “The boats are coming in,” he told them. “It will be difficult to see at first, but let the raiders come ashore and move a little inland. Then burn the boats. There is to be no escape. I will not have them run from this fight only to land somewhere else with the dawn.” He glanced around at his men, each one a battle-seasoned champion, proven many times over. “Lieu make your blade quick and your spear true,” he said.

“Death to our enemies!” they answered and hurried away to gather their companies.

Twelve of the raiding ships landed on the beach; ten others made for the estuary of the Tremadawc River a little further north. “Cuall!” shouted Elphin when he saw what had developed. His second-in-command came running, face set, eyes blazing. “Ten have gone upriver. You, Redynvar, and Heridd go after them.”

Cuall slapped his breastplate with the flat of his hand and whirled away. A moment later a hundred and fifty men rode silently from the dunes above the beach.

Elphin waited until the raiders had dragged their boats well above the tide line and allowed them to penetrate inland a short way. He struck before they could assemble into their main contingents. One moment the dunes were dark, quiet shapes against the night-dark sky; the next they echoed with blood-chilling screams as burning arrows streaked through the darkness. When the invaders dispersed along the beach, invisible horsemen thundered down from either side. And when they fled to their boats, they found the sails burning and the hulls aflame.

It was a short, ugly fight. Elphin dispatched the enemy with cold efficiency and when he was certain all had been accounted for-either wounded or dead-he mounted his troops and rode to the river to help his commanders deal with the rest.

They reached the river as dawn lightened the sky in the east. Smoke drifted in gray snakes through the trees, and they heard urgent shouts and the clash of arms as they plunged through the thick underbrush toward the battle. But by the time they reached the site all was strangely quiet. The weak morning light revealed a neat row of Irish ships burning quietly down to the waterline; bodies of half-naked invaders bobbed silently in the blood-red river. So many, a man might have walked from one bank to the other without wetting his feet. On the shore the dead lay sprawled everywhere, some pierced by arrows, others by spears. Few of the dead wore Cymric battlegear.

“Where have they gone?” wondered Elphin.

“Listen!” hissed Taliesin.

A moment later Elphin heard the sound of men pushing their way toward them through the wood. Elphin gave a quick, silent signal and his troops disappeared. They waited. Suddenly Cuall’s mea appeared, their leader stalking angrily ahead, a black scowl twisting his face.

“What happened?” asked Elphin, stepping out to meet him.

“The dogs got away,” Cuall said, as if the words burned his mouth.

The king tallied the bodies around him. “Not many got away, from the look of it.”

“Oh, indeed! But there were more than we expected. Each boat had fifty at least! We took them as they put to shore.”

Taliesin marveled at the casual ferocity of the warriors. He knew well their skill and courage; he had occasion enough to laud it in song. All the same, it awed him to see it in action: a hundred and fifty against three times their number, and they fretted that some had escaped-never mind that they had been seriously outnumbered from the start.

“We gave chase,” continued Cuall, “but lost them in the woods.”

“Let them go. We ride to Caer Seiont.”

On they rode, approaching the Roman fortress by midday. Elphin sent scouts ahead to view the situation. “I like this not at all,” muttered Cuall as they waited, using the time to eat a few bites of food and water the horses at the ford. The hill on which the fort was built was not far from the river, and they could see the black smoke rising above the trees ahead and hear the frantic sounds of battle sharp in the still autumn air.

“Maximus is in trouble,” replied Elphin. “But it will not help him for us to rush in without a good account of how things stand.”

When the scouts returned, the king called his commanders together and all listened to what the scouts had to report. “The fort is well surrounded, but the main fighting is taking place before the gates, which are afire. There are small fires inside the fort,” said one of the scouts.

“How many of the enemy?” asked Elphin.

“A thousand,” replied the second scout cautiously. “Maybe more. But they are holding none back.”

“A thousand men,” wondered Redynvar. “Where did they come from?”

“That matters but little,” Cuall reminded him. “They are here, and that is the meal that is on our plate!”