The Priestess and Her Boy Ch. 07

7 - The Battle of Tajorg

The young boy stood at the entrance to his father's tent, warming his hands by the fire outside and watching as tribesmen of the North returned to the camp in small groups. They were in good cheer, chanting praises to Wodh and singing songs of victory. Occasionally, a wounded man would be brought in, either carried or supported by comrades. The boy noticed that there were warriors present from all the Northern tribes; from the Centuri, from the Joths, men from the Carfah Hills and from villages by the great northern sea. And men in the distinctive kilts and armour of nearby Vosgir, where the boy himself had been raised - son of Alfard, King of the North.

The King's trusted lieutenant, Ostin, noticed the boy watching and walked over, accompanied by a group of ragged and bloodstained Vosgir warriors.

"Taneric, see here! This is the standard of the Legion of the City, now in your hands. Take it! Your father has won a great victory. The men of the City fought well, but many now lie slain and the rest are in full flight. In four days, the tribes of the North will be within their walls, for there can be few left there now to defend them."

Taneric supported the standard in both his arms, for it was heavy and he was too small to hold it upright. At the top was a magnificent sculpted golden eagle and below it a square yellow banner with an eye at the heart of the sun.

"It is the eye of their Goddess," said Ostin.

"It is beautiful," said Taneric.

"Well yes young Taneric," Ostin laughed. "Much about this deity is beautiful, from the watchful eye on the banner, to the magnificent Temple in the City, and especially Her priestesses; bringers of delight and, so they say, the personification of the Goddess among women. But many a northern boy has learned that with beauty and pleasure comes pain and despair."

"Our men will take the priestesses one by one on the altar of their false Goddess!" shouted a warrior, to much cheering.

Ostin held up his hand to silence them.

"You know that is not the way of the King," he said. "There has been enough bloodshed on the field of battle. The Queen will be forced to accept terms favourable to the North; tribespeople taken from us will be returned and never again shall the City prey on our youth. Valgar, Janeron, take Prince Taneric back to Vosgir. The rest of us shall follow the King to the City, for there may still be a fight to be had at the walls."

Taneric and the two warriors set off for the Vosgir trail which they reached within the hour. The two men took turns carrying the young prince on their shoulders when he struggled to keep up. As they approached the trail, they slowed and it became clear to the boy that the route, in the heavily forested Valley of Tajorg, was the very site of the recent battle.

"Look Prince Taneric," said Janeron. "The legion of the City was marching on Vosgir, but one at a time on the narrow trail through the woodlands. Their column was almost a league long. They could not have known that the tribes of the North are now united under your father the King - six thousand strong. We had destroyed their army's hind quarters before the head even knew that battle had commenced."

Indeed, the way through the forest was strewn with the bodies of the fallen, almost all warriors of the City, and so many struck down by arrows and spears.

"See, my Prince? The men of the City were well armed, but they intended to fight in tight formations on an open field of battle. They were unable to defend themselves alone or in small groups, and we took them from both sides of the path, with arrows and spears and even throwing rocks that we had prepared in advance."

In some places, as the small group moved along the trail, they came upon men of the North digging graves for fallen comrades. Taneric asked Valgar what would become of the bodies of the City's men.

Valgar shrugged, "After any great battle come vultures and wild animals, to profit from the death caused by others. And what is left after that will rot."

Janeron, sensing distress in the boy, called out, "Valgar, the boy has only seen six summers. Is there no other way to Vosgir?"

"Perhaps. But none that will get us there before nightfall."

They continued, in many places stepping over bodies, turning their faces from the horror where they could. And after another hour of walking they came to the head of the column, where lay the bodies of captains and generals of the City, in fine armour but all with heads removed.

"They will be on spikes at the gates of the City soon." said Janeron.

To the side of the trail, a small group of jeering tribesmen had formed in a circle around a man standing over a naked woman, his tunic hitched up exposing pink buttocks. As they mocked him, he cried out in anger and frustration, "How can I do anything with you all staring at me and laughing?"

"Here, I will show you how!" said another, unbuckling his belt.

"The Goddess curses you all!" the girl shouted defiantly, and a man kicked her cruelly, causing her to scream in pain. She turned her head and locked eyes with Taneric.

"She is a Priestess," said Valgar, pointing to her robes, cast to the side, muddy and ripped. "I wonder why their army brought her along. Perhaps to bless them before battle. Perhaps to choose boys from whatever remained of their vanquished enemy. Her day has not ended as she would have planned."

"Please save her!" said Taneric.

The two men stared at each other.

"Well, he may be young, but he is the Prince of Vosgir. Let us go and fetch the girl." said Janeron, with little relish.

Taneric watched the warriors approach the circle of men. Voices were raised and there was pushing and shoving. Finally, he saw Janeron cuff one of the men hard as he shouted, "I am a sergeant of the King's Guard, stand aside!"

The Priestess was picked up, hurriedly dressed in what was left of her robe and ushered away from the angry group.

"Here is your girl Taneric," said Valgar. "Best we not linger too long here."

The four moved away down the trail, now thankfully clear of bodies as they left the scene of the battle behind them. The girl had been beaten by her captors and was barefoot. Limping, she slowed their progress.

"I don't mind the boy riding on my shoulders," said Janeron. "But the priestess can fend for herself."

The girl talked to Taneric as they stumbled along together after the two impatient warriors.

"What does she say Janeron?" he asked.

"She speaks the language of the City. She says that when she locked eyes with you, she saw that the Goddess is with you. She says the Goddess will protect you, although it seems to me She cannot even protect Her own City! She is very beautiful, your Priestess, is she not Taneric? You can see it through the mud and the blood. Come along, we are very close to Vosgir now."

But, in spite of Janeron's reassuring words, there was still one scene of battle to be encountered. In a clearing, the bodies of several City warriors lay alongside those of their northern enemies.

"Their scouts," said Valgar. "Our men found them before they could alert the main army. And what did I tell you about vultures and wild animals? Look at these here!"

A ragged group of men had dismounted from horses and were going through the bodies in the clearing, taking any valuable items and weapons they could find, whether from the northern tribesmen or from the City's scouts.

"Cargian scum! Parasites!" shouted Valgar. "Be gone!"

But he had underestimated the number of foragers, and then yet more appeared from the trees around the clearing. An arrow struck him in the chest, followed by two into the body of Janeron. As the men lay dying, one of the strangers, an elderly man, approached Taneric and the priestess, who had put a protective arm around him.

"What have we here?" asked the old man. "A fine priestess, much in need of a wash and a new robe, and with her a child. We came here for gold and weapons, but the boy will be of some value when we take him south. The priestess will be ransomed, or sold to a southern master if the Temple is no more. Put her on a horse! Tie her! You, boy, can ride with me. What is your name? Tamorek did you say? I like it not! I shall call you Tak."