The Romance of Eowain

Chapter Five, Scene Eleven

The sun rose over the summit of Gluín, more than a thousand feet high. Fiery dawn light framed the enclosure and watchtower there.

More than a hundred Cailech-men, and as many women and children?

It wasn't just a raid. It was a land-grab. They meant to hold the hill and the other three settlements on its compass points for their own.

Eowain's own men had only held Drúchtmil through the quick action of the garrison at Bántobar.

If the Cailech held the hill, there would be a dangerous bulge into Droma. Horse and cattle herds in the midland hills would be easy targets.

But a fight over a mile uphill to the crest of Gluín is no easy task.

"Your Grace, we entreat you!" Crimthann Nine-Eyes, chief of Drúchtmil, was a skinny man of thirty-odd years. The leather cuirass and greaves of his father ill-fitted him.

Behind him were the chief-holders of the other thorps around Gluín Hill. They'd all been at Dúnsciath for the spring fair when the assault came, so they'd escaped injury themselves.

Their lands, however, had surely been stripped bare of treasures since the incursion began.

Lord Gwerfyl of Gluintír whispered to another lord, "Really, after the way my wife was treated, I shouldn't be surprised."

Eowain snapped at them. "Am I not considering the tactical situation?"

Indeed, am I not?

Eowain stroked at his chin. The enclosure and watchtower were up there for a reason. And this was the steepest side of the hill, with part of the way blocked by a six-hundred foot cliff.

The Cailech king's own men weren't on that hill. Only a rabble of farmers, herders, and other tribesmen, with little more than spears, clubs, and short hunting bows.

But they held the heights. Soon they'd entrench themselves.

"Their chief, Toryn the Stout?" Crimthann Nine-Eyes shook his head. "He's a man of some reputation. With a dozen fierce companions."

Eowain had heard only rumor of Toryn. He was like a tree-trunk, they said. And twice as tenacious when rooted.

The Cailech held the other three trail-heads and the settlements near them. He couldn't advance up the hill along one of those trails.

But if he seized the height directly from Drúchtmil? The remaining Cailech would break and run.

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By the First Hour, Eowain's men had made little progress. The only trail up Gluín from Drúchtmil was rough and offered good footing, but narrow in many places.

The rough and rocky cliff, coated with mosses and lichens, blocked progress. While not strictly vertical, the slope was severe. He certainly might surprise the Cailech that way, but Eowain guessed only three or four men in ten might be able to make that climb and live to see the top.

He wasn't certain he was one of them.

Aside from the cliff, the rest of the hill was grassy, with slippery morning dew over which to advance.

He ordered his men up the Drúchtmil trail. Archers advanced point to point and offered cover to the infantry that followed.

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