Fell had been cut on the right cheek, and blood was flowing from a deep wound in his thigh. His claymore, though, felt light in his hand as he charged again, Obrin beside him.

'Don't let them re-form!' he bellowed.

The archer captain Cheops reached the crest of the eastern slope and glanced across at the enemy defensive wall. Beyond that he could see the cavalry charging the woods. It was all going well; the range from his position to the enemy was less than two hundred yards, well within killing distance. It was hot, and today would be thirsty work. Glancing behind him he saw a heavy stand of gorse, and beyond it a grove of trees.

'You!' he shouted to a young recruit. 'Go back into the trees and see if there's a stream or a pond. If there is, you can refill our canteens.'

'Yes, sir!' the boy called out, setting off at a run.

Cheops strung his longbow. He had made it himself five years ago, a splendid weapon tipped with horn. Pulling his shafts from his quiver, he pushed them point first into the earth. For some reason that Cheops had never been able to fathom, arrowheads with a little clay stuck to them pierced armour all the better.

Selecting his first shaft, he notched it to the bow. There was little point in trying to select a target, since he would have to arc the arrow over the shield-wall. Still, the Highlanders were densely packed on the hill-top, and any hit would be an advantage. Cheops drew back on the string and sent the shaft in a long, looping flight.

This was going to be a good day. No sign of rain, to warp the arrows. Not much wind.

His archers gathered on both sides of him, selecting their arrows and removing their cloaks.

It was all so easy ..

Idly he wondered why the Highland bitch had decided to make a stand here. '

Cheops did not have long to wait for an answer. From behind there came a scream and he swung round to see the boy he had sent looking for water, running for all he was worth. The lad had discarded his longbow, which amazed Cheops, for the loss of a weapon meant a thirty-lash flogging. What had he seen? A bear?

272.

The boy glanced back as he ran and tripped, rolling headlong. Gripped by panic, he scrambled to his feet. From the gorse and the undergrowth came thousands of Highland warriors.

Cheops stood transfixed. It was not possible. They had an army of three thousand - and there were at least that many on the hill-top opposite.

Impossible or not, they were here!

'Back! Back!' yelled Cheops. His men hardly needed the order. Lightly armed with bow and knife, they were no match for sword-wielding warriors and began to stream back down the hill, leaving their arrows stuck in the soft earth. The Highlanders poured after them.

Cheops hurled aside his longbow and pumped his arms for extra speed. Ahead he could see the Baron, directing an attack on the western side of the hill-top.

The Baron swung round, and stood open-mouthed as his archers hurtled down into the pass. The thin circle of soldiers around the hill also glanced up. Cheops knew that his dignity was fleeing ahead of him, but he didn't care. Dignity could be regained. Life was another matter entirely. He reached the foot of the pass just ahead of the fastest of his men, and slipped through the infantry to what appeared the relative safety behind the infantry lines.

There he stopped and looked back.

The Highlanders were pouring down the hillside, screaming some incomprehensible battle-cry. They struck the infantry like a hammer.

Then they were through.

With nowhere left to run, Cheops drew his dagger. As a burly white-bearded warrior carrying a battle-axe charged him, Cheops ducked under the swinging blade and thrust his knife at the man. The blade was turned by a breastplate and Cheops stumbled and fell. The axe clove him between the shoulder-blades.

On the hillside the Baron shouted orders to the infantry to form a defensive square and retreat down the pass. With fine discipline they gathered, the Baron at the centre.

The Highlanders beat ineffectually against the shield-wall, and the withdrawal began.

Leofric had never wanted to be a soldier, or any kind of fighting man. His loves were numbers, logistics and organization. As he sat his 273.

gelding on the north side of the hill he found himself contemplating his future.

Never having seen a battle, he was unprepared for the ferocity, the screams and the cries. It was all so ... barbaric, he realized.

Once it is over I will return to the capital, he decided. The University had offered him a teaching post in languages. I will accept it, he thought.

'Do we attack, sir?' asked the lieutenant at his side. The man had drawn his sword, and seemed eager to lead the five hundred cavalrymen up the steep slope.

Leofric glanced up at the shield-wall above.

'I suppose so,' he said. 'The Baron ordered us to make probing assaults.'

'I understand,' said the officer. 'Wasp formation, sting and run. How many should I take, sir?'

Leofric swung in the saddle and gazed at his five centuries. 'Take three,' he said.

'Harry them!'

'Yes, sir.'

The remnants of Chaldis' cavalry came galloping down the western slope - no more than thirty men, some of them wounded. An officer rode up to Leofric. 'We were ambushed, sir. More than a thousand Highlanders were waiting for us in the woods. They are cutting the infantry to pieces.'

At that moment the archers led by the sprinting Cheops came racing down the slope - pursued by, Leofric gauged, some two thousand Highlanders.

'Son of a whore!' hissed the officer. 'Where in Hell did they come from?'

Leofric was momentarily stunned. He had an eye for numbers, and had already estimated there to be around three thousand on the hilltop. Now from nowhere the number of the enemy had risen to six thousand, which was not even within the bounds of possibility.

'God's blood!' said the lieutenant. 'What now, sir!'

Leofric needed a moment to think. Looking up at the shield-wall above him, the answer came like a blinding revelation. 'There are no men on the hill-top,' he said. 'We are besieging the Highland women!'

All around them the infantry were falling back around the Baron. Raising his arm, Leofric led his cavalry in a charge against the 274.

enemy's left cutting through to where the Baron stood, Leofric leapt from his mount and ran to him. Swiftly he told him of the Highland deception.

The Baron swore. 'How many do we have left?' he asked.

Leofric cast his eyes at the sea of fighting men. 'Two thousand. Perhaps less.'

'Advance on the hill!' shouted the Baron. 'Formation One!'

'What is the point!' screamed Leofric. 'It is over!'

'It will be over when I've killed the bitch!'

With a discipline gained during decades of warfare, the Outland troops re-formed into a fighting square one hundred shields wide and ten deep. 'Double time!'

shouted the Baron, and the men began to run. Leofric, caught in the centre, had no choice but to run alongside the Baron. On the outer edges of the battle his cavalry were being cut to pieces trying to protect the exposed right flank of the square. Even so, inexorably the phalanx moved up the hill towards the waiting women.

'I'm coming for you, you whore!' bellowed the Baron, his voice rising above the clashing swords and the screams of the wounded and dying.

A black cloud of arrows slashed into the advancing line and Leofric could see scores of women loosing their shafts. He felt sickened by it all. The finest soldiers in the empire were now charging a force of wives and mothers.

Behind them the Highlanders were assaulting the troops at the rear of the phalanx, slashing their swords at unprotected backs. Many men turned to face the enemy, and this thinned the square. The Baron seemed unconcerned.

The enemy archers fell back behind the shield-wall and a volley of iron-tipped spears sliced down into the advancing men. The Highlanders were all around them now, a pack of wolves ripping at their flesh. The square began to break up but the Baron ignored the threat, urging his front line on and up.

The shield-wall opened and Leofric saw Asmidir charge out, with a group of men in black and silver armour. They came in a tight wedge that clove through the advancing line. Behind them, bearing spears and swords, the Highland women rushed at the attackers.

The sight of thousands of fighters streaming from the hill-top finally unnerved the advancing men. They broke and ran.

275.

Asmidir leapt at the Baron, his two-handed sword slashing towards the Baron's neck. The Baron blocked it with his shield and gave a return blow that crashed against Asmidir's shoulder-plate, dislodging it. The black man dropped to one knee and sent a wild cut that thundered against the Baron's calf, smashing his greave to shards and knocking him to the ground. Rolling to his left, the Baron clambered to his feet and threw aside his shield. Holding his own blade two- handed, he rushed the black man. 'You treacherous bastard!' he screamed.

Their swords clashed again and again. A blow from Asmidir smashed the links on the Baron's neck protector and slashed up to open his cheek. Blood streamed from the cut.

Suddenly weary, Leofric sat down and watched the duel. All around him men were dying, but no one attacked the slightly-built spectator who sat quietly with his hands hugging his knees.

Both men were strong and the fight continued at a savage pace. Asmidir was bleeding from wounds in both arms and a cut on his temple. The Baron blocked an overhead cut and, as Asmidir pressed in close, head-butted the black man, sending him staggering back. Dropping his sword, the Baron hurled himself at his half-stunned opponent and both men fell to the ground. The Baron drew his dagger and raised it high.

An arrow punched through his leather eye-patch, slicing deep into his brain.

Leofric glanced to his right and saw the warrior queen, Sigarni, in armour of bright silver, a winged helm upon her head, a short hunting bow in her hand. The Baron gave a choking cry, and toppled from Asmidir.

Leofric stood and walked over to the black man, kneeling beside him. 'Are you all right?' he enquired.

'How is it that you live?' asked Asmidir, surprised.

Leofric shrugged. 'Forgot to draw my sword.' He helped Asmidir to his feet and the two men approached Sigarni.

Handing the bow to a dark-haired woman on her right, she surveyed the battlefield. There were still isolated pockets of fighting, but the battle was over.

She swung to Leofric and Asmidir introduced them. 'You have a charmed life, Leofric,' she said. 'Thousands of men died today, and you have not even been scratched.'

'I'm not much of a soldier,' he said. 'I've been offered a teaching 276.

post at the capital's University. With your leave, I think I'll accept it.'

She nodded. 'There has been enough blood-letting today. Go from here, Leofric, ride south to your King. Tell him the truth about all that happened here. I fear it will make little difference.'

'It won't, lady. He'll come with an army ten times the size of the one you defeated here. It will never end.'

Stepping forward, she placed her hands upon his shoulders and brought her face close to his. 'Look into my eyes, Leofric, and hear me well. It will end, for I will end it. Tell him these words from Sigarni, the Queen of the North: Advance against me and I will destroy you. I will bring fire and death into your kingdom, and I will snatch you from your throne and throw your body to the dogs.'

Sigarni turned away from him and walked down the hillside. Asmidir took the young man's arm and led him down into the pass. They found a horse and Leofric climbed into the saddle. 'Your strategy was masterful,' he said. 'I congratulate you.'

Asmidir smiled. 'Not my strategy, boy. Hers. All war is based on deception and she learned that lesson well. Go in peace, Leofric, and be sure never to cross my path again.'

'I wish you well, Asmidir,' said the young man, 'but I fear there will be no happy ending here.'

'The man who ripped the heart from my country is dead. That is a good enough ending for today. Now ride!'

Leofric touched spurs to the stallion and cantered from the battlefield.

High in the skies above, the crows were already gathering for the feast.

Bakris was dragged before Sigarni. 'They captured me,' he said, 'but I told them nothing.'

Sigarni sighed. 'You told them everything that you were supposed to,' she said.

'Kollarin warned me that you were a treacherous cur, who would sell your people for a handful of gold. But know this, Bakris, your treachery helped us. Without it the Baron might have sent out more scouts, and found our hidden forces. As the rope settles around your neck, think on that. Now get him from my sight - and hang him from the nearest tree!'

Fell sat quietly with his back against the tree-trunk, Obrin and 277.

Torgan beside him. 'It was a good day,' he said. 'We broke them. By God, we broke them!'

'Aye,' said Obrin softly, his eyes drawn to the black-feathered arrow jutting from Fell's chest. The clansman's face was pale, there were dark rings beneath his eyes, and his lips had a bluish tinge that Obrin had seen all too often before.

'Fetch Sigarni,' Obrin told Torgan. The Farlain leader nodded, and loped away.

'Maybe if I removed the arrow you would have a chance,' said Obrin, but Fell shook his head.

'I can feel the life draining from me. Nothing will stop it now. We won, though, didn't we?'

'Aye, we won."

Fell looked up at the sky and watched the crows swooping and diving. It was a beautiful day. High Druin wore a crown of clouds and the sun was bright behind them.

'It is a Highland custom,' said Fell, 'that a man's son sends him on the swans'

path. I have no children of my blood, Obrin.' He smiled. 'But I used the Cormaach to save you, and that means you are my son. I want my best bow beside me, and two knives. Some bread and some wine should be wrapped in leaves. Lastly, two coins should be placed ... upon my eyes. The coins are for the gatekeeper, who will usher me through. Will you do this for me?'

'I will, man.'

'I want to be buried on the flanks of High Druin. Sigarni will know where. I want to sleep for ever beneath the spot where we became lovers. And if I must walk as a spirit, and be chained to any part of the land, it should be there.'

'God's eyes, Fell, I thought we had made it through together. One cursed archer hiding in the undergrowth.'

'It's done now. It cannot be undone. I have often said that a man should never dwell on regrets, but I find that hard to maintain now, Obrin. You will need a sword-bearer at my funeral. Choose a good one.'

'I shall.'

Fell closed his eyes. 'She's a wonder, isn't she? A hill-top defended by women.

Who would have considered it?'