Chapter 1: Choices

The young man sat on his horse looking down the long vale before him. The River Irthing gave the vale its name and normally it would have been a pleasant vista in the June sun. Today however, a pall of smoke marred the scene. He watched as mounted men ran down the little band of settlers and deliberately set fire to the thatched roofs of their houses. His face was grim and he was whispering under his breath.

"Tougher to survive, tougher to survive."

Scott mac Fergus had been laying waste to the countryside for miles around this area over the last two days. His eyes stung from the smoke of the many houses and fields his men had torched as part of his 'scorched earth' strategy.

The High King of Scots, Constantine had promised him five hundred men to bolster his lordship of Knapdale and Jura, but he should have known not to accept gifts from Kings because this one had come with a price. Constantine had asked that Scott keep the Saxons on his southern border occupied and out of Scotland so that he could deal with the Viking threat he faced on his coasts and in the north. Scott could see this was a cheap way for Constantine to close off one possibly costly warring front.

The King of Dalriada, King Fergus, had also sent for Scott, seeking his assistance in dealing with Viking raiders in his territory. Scott knew which call needed to be answered first. The High King had to see his five hundred men paid for before he could assist Fergus. And so Scott had travelled south. He had supplemented the High King's five hundred with two hundred mounted men of his own and his prize unit, one hundred and fifty long bow archers.

His mounted men had been split into two flying columns of one hundred each and they had ridden ahead of the main force to despoil as much of the land as possible. Scott's thinking was that a starving enemy was a weakened enemy. He was also banking that the raising of the land would bring the major Saxon force, based at Caerlisle, out from behind its settlement walls and into the open where he could assail it.

The grim look was from the memory of his winter trek through this same country as he and young Gabrain had tried to escape their Saxon pursuers. Now he had returned with some force. He was grim too because he believed the best way to help his lordship to thrive was through increased trade and economic stability yet here he was, burning, killing and seeking to force the Saxons to battle.

"Lachlan, enough, call them in. I am sickened at our ruin of this fair land and the murder of these defenceless folk. Let us see if we have done enough to draw the Saxons from their den."

He turned his horse and began to walk it westwards as a horn sounded to recall the mounted men. It did not take long for the one hundred men to form up and they gathered speed as they rode to meet up with the other hundred men who had been similarly burning further down this vale. Once the two groups met up, Scott wheeled half right to head northwards in the direction of Hadrian's wall. Here he expected to meet up with his main body of foot and the archers. He wanted his full force of eight hundred and fifty if he was going to take on the Caerlisle Saxon force.

They met the foot just on the south side of Hadrian's wall and Scott reviewed his plans. He had hoped to strike a major blow against the Saxons and to do so quickly so that he could return to aid King Fergus. He knew well that it was a stupid lord who offended his King and he thought he only had a number of weeks to campaign here. Although a business administration graduate rather than a soldier, his experiences of the past year had been something of an education and he believed his archers and his mounted men gave him an advantage. That was why he was trying to draw out a force of perhaps three thousand or more Saxons. He fully believed his use of the archers and cavalry, if done right, would secure a victory. Cavalry was unusual for the Scots, as they didn't have a great stock of horses. The long bow was several hundred years ahead of its time and could be devastating.

Presently his scouts informed him that the Saxons had indeed issued from Caerlisle and were currently marching east up the Irthing Vale. The force was described as being mainly foot but with perhaps several hundred mounted men. It was these mounted men that Scott was now fretting about. He knew he needed to try and use his archers to nullify this force so that his own cavalry could be used to roll up the Saxon foot.

He had been surveying the ground in the vale while riding to Hadrian's wall, searching for some advantageous land features that would assist his archers. The best he could come up with was just to the north of a Saxon settlement at Brampton and he now bit his lip as he tried to judge whether he could move his force there quickly enough to take advantage of it.

"Hurry them up Lachlan, all might depend on the positions on the field this day. Hurry them for me!"

The Scots' foot were soon streaming southwards at a greater pace, trotting steadily as Scott tried to manoeuvre them as he wished. He was thankful when they reached his chosen spot without any sign of the Saxon host and he hastily gave orders for deployment. The land he had chosen had a significant dip into which he hid his archers, lining his foot just over the ridge of the dip to hopefully act as bait for the Saxon horse. His own cavalry he marshalled behind the archers, dismounted so they were hidden from view.

Scott and Lachlan sat their horses behind the foot and waited for the Saxons to find them. They didn't have to wait long. The flat vale let them see the host from a long way off which of course meant that the Saxons would be able to see them too. It was a nervous wait now as the Saxons drew nearer and Scott was almost holding his breath as he watched to see whether they would take the bait and let loose their mounted men.

"So, the temptation is too much for them to resist!" He said at last, as they could see several hundred horsed men surge ahead of the main host, heading directly at them.

Scott knew he had to let the Saxon horse get close so that his archers would have the maximum impact. The five hundred foot were the men King Constantine had sent and he wasn't sure how experienced they were. Standing firm in the face of two hundred charging horsemen could be a daunting prospect, and he needed them to hold their nerve.

"See you Lachlan, get down there and stiffen their spines for me! They haven't yet seen our archers in action and they might break before the Saxons are in range."

Lachlan urged his horse forward and rode up and down the lines of foot, re-assuring them and steadying the ranks.

Scott let the Saxon horse get to within a hundred yards of his foot before signalling his archers to fire. The hundred and fifty archers loosed a volley of three arrows each in double quick time and Scott watched in morbid fascination as the arrows rained down on the charging cavalry, leaving it in complete ruin.

Still Scott sat his horse, letting the significantly larger Saxon host come towards him. He knew he had to judge this finely again. The foot had to be allowed close enough for one more volley from the archers to reduce their numbers, but still far enough away for him to marshal his own cavalry and get up enough speed so that they could cut through them.

At last he signalled his archers to fire again and also his cavalry to mount up. He waved to Lachlan to take his group of one hundred left while he himself took one hundred around the right flank of his own foot. Scott quickly split his men into groups of twenty-five and he led four wedge formations out towards the Saxons, gathering speed as they charged. He watched as the arrows fell, causing disarray amongst the Saxon foot. Men around him levelled their spears as they swept up and through the already demoralised host, like a hot knife through butter.

"mac Fergus! mac Fergus!" screamed men, as they hacked and slashed, urging their beasts forward to win through to the rear of the Saxons.

Scott tried to wheel his wedge and at the same time take in developments across the battlefield. He saw that Lachlan's horse had caused as much damage and mayhem as his own. He also saw that the enterprising archers had rushed up onto the ridge and were taking advantage of the fact that his horse was presently disengaged to fire another volley of arrows into the Saxons. He led his wedge back at the charge, trusting his archers to halt their fire before he was in range.

It was clear that the Saxons had little further stomach for the fight and the second cavalry charge cut through them even easier than the first. Scott signalled to his foot to charge now and waved to his captains of horse to begin to run down those Saxons who were already fleeing.

"It is complete and utter victory Scott, and at little cost man!" Said Lachlan as he rode up, a wide grin on his face.

"Little cost to us Lachlan, but not so for these Saxons."

Scott afforded Irthing one more day to mop up the last of the Saxons then he left Lachlan to bring the foot home while he raced northwards to aid King Fergus. He had won perhaps an additional forty horses from the battle and he had horsed seventy-five of his archers to take with him, knowing they would be a distinct advantage against the Norse too.

Hard riding was now the order of the day and Scott pushed his men and their horses. They passed the first night at Lochmaben, at the foot of great Annandale, but he had them up early and on the way at first light, up Tweedsdale, skirting the huge Ettrick Forest and camping for the night in the mouth of Clydesdale. The third night saw them high in the Campsie Hills, past Gleschu and not far from Dunbarton.

Three more days of riding took them round the head of Loch Fyne and down its banks to Loch Gilphead. They were perhaps only two miles from Aird Driseig when they picked out a cloud of black smoke rising into the sky. Despite having made almost two hundred and fifty miles in only six days, an incredible feat, Scott and his men redoubled their efforts at this sign of alarm.

It wasn't long before the settlement came into view. Fires were burning fiercely, smoke billowing black and grey, and poles were stuck into the banks of the loch, grisly severed heads stuck on top of them. The waters of the loch were still burning and many Viking bodies could be seen in the water, impaled on spikes that had been set into the loch-bed. Two longships were abandoned, obviously holed under the water. It seemed clear that the attack had been recent, within the last few hours given the degree to which the flames had taken hold.