Lies, Damned Lies, and History(15)

The path steepened even further and for me, the last part was a nightmare. Why the bloody hell anyone would want to attack a hill fort was a complete mystery to me. Any warriors getting this far would be bent double, sucking in as much oxygen as they could get while wheezing, ‘Just give me a minute, will you,’ as the defenders peppered them with arrows and spears. As far as I was concerned, they could keep it and I’d live in one of the nice valleys below. The nice level valleys.

‘Nearly there,’ said Peterson, who was wheezing himself.

I said, ‘You OK?’ to Sands who was limping a little.

‘Absolutely fine,’ he panted, pausing to bend forward and rest his hands on his knees. ‘Bloody hell, please tell me it’s not much further.’

It wasn’t.

At the very summit, most of the trees had been felled, giving any defenders a clear sight of approaching armies. Piles of stripped tree trunks lay around, carefully wedged.

‘Neat,’ panted Peterson. ‘They knock out the wedges … and the trunks roll down on top of anyone who hasn’t already succumbed to … some sort of cardiac event. They’d be travelling at some speed, too. Impossible to dodge. You can barely keep your feet here. And look.’ He pointed. ‘You have to come up this way because they’ve covered everywhere else with brushwood and felled branches.’

He was right. Using the natural slope and the materials to hand, anyone taking refuge here would be near unassailable. Looking ahead, I could see where natural rock outcrops had been incorporated into high stone walls. We were nearly there.

The track broadened out and became well defined. Potholes and ruts had been filled in with small stones. The way was still steep but much firmer underfoot. The area had been cleared of all obstructions and obstacles. This was where any invading forces would be forced to fight. Right under the walls of Caer Guorthigirn.

We retrieved our bundles from the cart, which could go no further anyway. The last I saw, it was being incorporated into some sort of barrier. We stepped aside as if to rest. I wanted some shots of the hill fort itself, together with some of the stream of people still snaking their way up towards it.

More smoke drifted on the wind, catching at my throat and mixing with the rich smell of earth and wet leaves.

‘Wow,’ said Roberts, struggling to keep on his feet in his excitement. ‘It’s so much bigger than I thought. I used to play up here when I was a kid. It was right in the middle of a conifer plantation then, so we never really got the full effect.’

Looking ahead, I could see two vast enclosures – one to the right and one to the left, both enclosed by revetments – dry stone walls. So that settled that argument. Although in whose favour I’d have to wait and see.

Between the two enclosures, the path became a passage and dipped sharply, exposing any attackers attempting to access the main gate to heavy fire from above. The passage was about twenty yards long, no more than a cart-width wide, and ended at a pair of heavy wooden gates.

A group of armed men stood there, urging people through as quickly as possible.

I had a sudden panic over whether we would be required to identify ourselves, but these were simpler times. Protection and shelter were offered to everyone.

They let us through and once inside we were ushered very firmly towards the right-hand enclosure. Along with civilians and other animals. They should have had a sign saying, ‘Expendable people this way.’ With an arrow.

Fighting men were mustering to the left, in the smaller and more heavily fortified area. I caught a quick glimpse of some thirty or forty thatched round huts before the pressure of people behind me pushed me away and into our enclosure. My guess was that in normal times, people lived in the smaller enclosure, and this larger one was used for working and keeping animals.

We paused just inside the entrance and looked around us.

‘We need to establish ourselves some territory,’ said Markham. ‘A base for our possessions, such as they are, and a place to gather if we get separated.’

I glanced around. We stood in a large, open space, enclosed by a stone wall. Not as high as the other enclosure, but for anyone approaching up the hill, the wall would still be above head height.

‘Not the front wall,’ he said. ‘That’s just asking for trouble. This way.’ We made our way across the grass to a quieter area near the back wall. From there, standing on tiptoe, we could look down an even steeper slope. All around us were other wooded hillsides, all in the russet and gold shades of autumn.

‘If it wasn’t for all the trees I reckon we could see my house from up here,’ said Roberts, grinning. ‘Or we could if it had been built yet.’