Arthur, King. William Speir

      “He defeated the Saxons attacking the city. Horsa got away, but most of his warriors were killed.”

      “What if we can’t push Hengist back to his original borders?” Ambrosius asked. “We pushed him back ten miles, but he still has ten more miles of coastline than he did before. Do we surrender that land to him?”

      “It’ll take several days for Marcus’ army to reach here, my King,” Lucius said. “And we have no idea how many fresh warriors Hengist has behind those earthworks.”

      “So we quit the field and leave him with an expanded territory?” Ambrosius demanded.

      “I don’t see that we have a choice, my King,” Lucius said. “We inflicted heavy losses on Hengist, but he has fresh warriors arriving daily. Our losses were high, and reinforcements are days away at best. If we wait for reinforcements, it only benefits the enemy. It gives them time to bring up their reinforcements and strengthen their defenses. We pushed them back, and we protected our two largest fortified cities along the frontier. That’s the only victory we can achieve here.”

      Ambrosius shook his head in frustration. He was not in the habit of allowing the Saxons to expand their territory, but Lucius was right. The Saxon strategy had been well-executed. Ambrosius, for all of his brilliance as a military commander, had been outmaneuvered.

      The next morning, Ambrosius’ army and Hengist’s warriors stared at each other across the field of battle, but neither side attacked.

      “Is it just the light, or do they have something on their faces?” Lucius asked, pointing to the Saxon warriors.

      “It’s blood,” Ambrosius replied. “They sacrificed last night to ask their gods for victory and glory. Blooding themselves is their way of absorbing the pleasure that their gods feel from the sacrifice.”

      “Barbarians!” Lucius spat.

      “True,” Ambrosius agreed. “But their faith is part of what makes them such ferocious warriors. Never underestimate faith, even when it’s faith in false gods.”

      For two days, Ambrosius’ army and the Saxon warriors faced each other across the fields littered with the dead. Carrion birds had begun picking the bodies clean, and the stench of rotting flesh was almost unbearable.

      Seeing no other options, Ambrosius sent an envoy to Hengist with terms to end the fighting. Ambrosius agreed to allow Hengist to retain the additional lands that he was currently defending. Britain would recognize that the Saxon territory was now ten miles longer, and the Saxons would agree not to attempt any further expansions. Hengist agreed to the terms.

      As Ambrosius’ army withdrew back to Venta Belgarum, they smelled the Saxon funeral pyres sending their fallen warriors to their gods.

      “My King, will Hengist honor the agreement?” Lucius asked.

      Ambrosius snorted. “Of course not! This was just a way to buy us time. We must raise more troops and build more forts along the frontier. If we’re going to keep him inside his territory, then we must have a better way of knowing what his warriors are doing and when they’re on the move. We cannot lose any more land to them.”

      “How do we raise more troops?”

      “A levy,” Ambrosius replied. “The Council of Kings must agree to give me a portion of their soldiers to guard the frontier.”

      “They won’t like that,” Lucius commented.

      “Would they prefer to have the Saxons overrun the southern kingdoms? Because that’s what we’re facing. It takes too long for the kings to send reinforcements. Britain must have a standing army to defend the frontier or the kingdoms will fall one at a time.”

      They rode in silence, grateful to leave the reek of rotting and burning flesh behind them.

      Arthur, Bedwyr, and Cai returned with the men two weeks after they left for the annual autumn hunt. Smokehouses had already been erected around the hillfort to begin curing the meat brought back by the other two hunting parties.

      Arthur rode next to the wagon carrying his bear. It was the largest animal killed during the hunt, and Arthur still felt elated.

      Merlin and Galerius waited at the gates when the men reached the top of the causeway. Both were grateful to see the three princes, apparently uninjured.

      “How went the hunt?” Merlin called.

      “Incredible!” the leader of the hunting party bellowed. “Best hunt in years! We even killed a bear!”

      Merlin was about to ask about the bear when the chant went up: “Prince Arthur, the Bear of the North!”

      “Prince Arthur killed the bear?!” Merlin shouted.

      “All by himself!” the leader answered. “It was glorious!”

      Merlin glared at Galerius. “You said that there’d be no danger.”

      Galerius appeared confused and gestured at the princes. “They’re back, safe and sound. How much danger could there have been?”