The raiders had taken him by surprise. Leofric Rune was not a man who enjoyed being surprised. There were more of them than his spies led him to believe, they were better equipped than his scouts had described them as being, and they were more competently led than his captains had observed them. It showed failure in all the measures Leofric had put in place to manage his domain.

When the raiders ignored the monastery and made for his honour guard Leofric was not worried. Ser Raine was an old hand at war, more than once during Lysander's Contest a well-timed charge from the captain of his guard changed the course of a battle. There would be no Rune of Caernholm without Ser Raine.

A silence had descended upon him and his knights. Leofric was not one for jovial remarks or snide comments about his enemies to boost the spirits of his knights. When the tone of the battle changed he simply pulled his horse forward and watched in contemplative silence. The honour guard was used to such behaviour and knew better than to interrupt the Baron when he was in such a trance. The monks had no such knowledge.

“Grand Baron, the heathen makes to cut us down. Are we to retreat? Have you a horn to sound to bring down the rest of your knights? They get closer my lord what are you going to do?” The abbot, in his simple robe of rough-spun brown, came to stand by the baron's horse. “You are a man of the chosen, you must not allow the savages to bring harm to my brothers or our work.”

“No harm will come to your brothers or your home. My sons will deal with the clansmen long before they reach us.” Leofric put on his most comforting smile and looked down at the abbot. The learned man nodded shakily and made his way back to his brothers.

“Will we just sit here Father?”

Aelfric had escaped from his handler and came to his father's side.

“Aelf, you should be with Ser Eauth.”

His son blew a raspberry. “I couldn’t see anything at the back with him, everyone was in the way. If I cannot be a part of the fighting I should at least be able to watch.”

Leofric chuckled at his son’s youthful outburst. “So eager to do battle, yet so poorly equipped.” His son had chosen to dress himself in the finest clothing of his wardrobe. A beautiful doublet of dark Vermillion, dozens of small gold dragons danced across his chest and stomach. About his shoulders was a half cape embroidered with a silver swan, a gift sent by his aunt for his fourteenth name day. His son was becoming a man, Leofric knew this but he would be dammed before he threw him into the ugliness of war before he absolutely had to.

“Well nobody told me we were heading into battle until after I had packed,” said Aelfric with a pout.

Leofric chuckled again and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair.

They both looked up as they heard the horns sounding and the beginning of the thunderous charge that spelled doom for the clansmen from beyond the Great Loch.

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The dust kicked up by the horsemen was monumental. Leofric heard Aelf huff and stand up in his saddle to get a better look. Leofric knew from experience they would see nothing until the fighting was done, it was the curse of any command that the battle may be won or lost and you would not know until there was nothing more you could do.

“They’ve turned, a man just flew off his horse,” Aelf said.

“Good eye. An important quality for a commander.” Aelf sat up a little straighter.

“Is it always like this, the waiting?”

“Wars are won and lost by the patience of men, sometimes the lack, other times the abundance.” Leofric quoted.

“Atheric the First, in his book The Guiding Star Which Lights the Way,” said Aelf with a satisfied smile.

“One of your favourites Brother Hedwyn tells me. You’ve read it how many times?”

“Four. Atheric was scarcely older than me when he defeated his half-brother for the Sacred Seat. I always wanted to be like him, Luc and I used to pretend to be at the battle under the dark sun. Me as Atheric and him as Ileris.”

“An unpleasant game to play considering how it ends.”

“They’ll be alright won’t they father.” Aelf looked over at him with fear in his eyes.

Leofric bit his tongue resisting the urge to say the first thing that came into his mind. “They will be fine Aelfric. They have been training for this all their lives.”

The fighting had come to an end. The shield wall had been broken and the knights had split the raiders in two. Both sides collapsed and ran as fast as they could, throwing down spears and shields. They were cut down to a man. Leofric quickly surveyed the field and gritted his teeth.

Too many dead, he thought, too many for such a small party.

“Honour guard with me!” Leofric pushed his horse to canter and made for the field. In a heartbeat he was at the site of the battle and with a stone in his chest he saw a group of knights dismounted and huddled in a small circle. Ser Raine was amongst them. Leofric jumped down from his horse and pushed through the crowd. Edric was kneeling in the dirt, surrounded by heaps of bodies, cradling one in his arms.

It was Luc, his hair was matted with blood. “Is he alive?”

Edric looked up through squinted eyes, his coif sticking to his forehead. “He is still breathing. Beyond that, I do not know.”

Leofric fell to one knee and reached out to feel Luc’s chest. “His heart still beats. Help me lift him.” He hoisted him up by his arms with Edric holding his legs they rolled him onto the baron’s horse. “Edric, take him to the monks, have them tend him.” His son looked over at him in defiance, his mouth opened to spew out a complaint. “Now!” Edric grabbed the reins and stomped off, changing from a blooded warrior to a petulant child.

Leofric turned to face the assembled knights. “Gather the wounded and take them to the monks. For the dead, we burn the clansmen and take our own back to Caernholm.” With a nod the knights began to pick through the bodies, prodding to find those still alive from both friend and foe. “What happened here Edar, this was supposed to be a simple blooding for my sons.”

“The clansmen turned quickly and reformed their shield wall before the front could react. They were fast, we caught them unawares and they still managed to do all this.” Ser Raine waved a mailed hand to the growing pile of the dead and dying.

“There shouldn’t have been this many, one longship was sighted of cape death, there’s enough men here for three.”

“Four by my count, too well armed to be simple raiders. No, they had a greater purpose than we know.”

“Grandmaster Kaston sends birds from Talon, he reports more and more about a new clan-king stirring in the north. Perhaps he makes for more fertile ground than the frosts of Fenryr.” Leofric shook his head. “Speculation is pointless and we have wasted enough time here already. As soon as my son awakes we march for Caernholm with all haste.”

“Yes, my lord.”