Arthur

CRACK!!

I was through the line and pulling up hard. A dozen Angli sprawled on the ground around me: some of them dead where they had dropped, others struggling to rise.

I saw one foeman staring stupidly at his shield which seemed to have become stuck to his chest. He pulled at it and the shield fell away, revealing a slender length of a broken spear, jutting out from between his ribs. My own spear had mysteriously lost half its length. I threw it down.

Drawing my sword, I wheeled my horse to survey the carnage. The force of our charge had indeed collapsed the centre of the line: the damage fifty horse can do is considerable. What is more, we had not lost a single rider.

But our assault had carried us further into the centre than I could have believed possible; we were at the ford, almost in the water. The Angli were not slow to react. Instantly, they closed on us and we were surrounded. Yet, even as they filled the rents we had made in their battle line, I heard Arthur's hunting horn sounding high and clear.

I gathered the ala to me and we formed up to fight towards Arthur. The battle had become close. We were pressed on all sides, but the Cymry kept their heads and we moved forward, slowly, and with difficulty, for the Angli, in their desperation, gave ground grudgingly.

Then, when all was committed to Arthur's plan, the worst thing possible happened: the Picti, so far absent from the fight, suddenly appeared, streaming down from the hillside, coming in behind Arthur. As soon as they were within striking distance they loosed then* hateful little arrows.

So there we were, outnumbered and twice surrounded. Of all possible positions for an army, there are not many worse.

Arthur did what he could, sending Idris' troop to deal with the Picti. Naturally, this weakened his own force. Seeing Idris break away, the Angli and Irish responded with almost hysterical fury.

Giving forth a tremendous howl, the barbarian rose up like a great sea wave and Arthur was inundated. I saw him at the head of his troops on his white horse rising above them, and then he was gone.

'Arthur!' I cried, but my voice was lost in the battle roar. The seething waters of the enemy host closed over the place where he had been.