Duke of Normandy

by Griff Hosker

  In one move I had drawn Long Sword and moved forward half a step. “Hold them!”

  I saw that half of the men who had ridden at us had either been wounded or unhorsed. Haaken the Bold stepped from the line to despatch one luckless Breton. I watched as men from the second rank took the places of those wounded or killed in the front line. I was tall enough to see that our right had held but Beorn Straight Hair and his renegade Vikings were pushing back Saxbjǫrn and his men. Ragnar the Resolute reacted quickly and I saw men racing to bolster our left. The last of the Bretons in the first rank came at us again. I swung Long Sword. It smashed into a spear and then tore across the muzzle of a horse which reared. The rider fought to stay in the saddle. I lunged at his middle. A spear scraped along my mail but I felt my sword’s tip tear through scale mail and into flesh. As the Breton fell backwards he pulled his horse and he was crushed beneath his steed.

  Pascweten must have thought that he could end the battle. His right had almost won and we had suffered wounds in our front rank. He raised his spear and led his best warriors to charge us. Many of our spears were shattered. I saw fresh weapons passed forward. Egil shouted, in my ear, “I have the standard again, lord!”

  “It has been blooded. It is good! Wave it so that all know I live.”

  As the horsemen thundered towards us they had obstacles before them. Their own dead and dying warriors and horses lay like a barrier before us. I swung my shield around to my back so that I could use Long Sword two handed. Pascweten was coming for me. With two mailed men on either side of me they ploughed through the dead and dying. I had no spear and he could see that. This would be a test of my skills and those of the son of King Alan. I saw his arm pull back. He was not going to risk standing in his stiraps. There was no shield to stop his spear and my chest would be a huge target. I knew where he would strike. The games I played with William taught you how to coordinate the hand and the eye. They gave you the skill to hit a moving target. The target was the spear head. I swung as Pascweten rammed it at my chest. I saw the head of the spear come towards me. I watched Long Sword as it hacked through the wood of the shaft. The spear had almost reached my mail when I did so. The tip of the sword continued and scored a long line down the left flank of Pascweten horse. It was well trained and did not flinch. The horse drove over Petr the Slow. Its hooves crushed his skull but my brave hearthweru did not move. He was swinging his sword even as he was falling. It tore open the horse’s throat. This time the horse fell sideways and crushed some of the men in the front rank.

  Our shield wall broken, I turned and ran to Pascweten. He had kicked his feet from his stiraps and he held his shield in two hands as I hacked down at him. My blow split his shield in two and he rolled away. He grabbed his sword but I had blood in my head. Petr was not the only oathsworn I had lost and I wanted vengeance. My first blow buckled his sword and he fell backwards. My second blow took his head. The riders closest to him looked in shock at their leader’s decapitated body. Haaken the Bold and Æbbi Bonecrusher, two of the last of my oathsworn still standing, leapt at the men and hacked them from their horses. I took the helmet from the dead Breton’s head and held the bloody skull by the hair. As I glanced to my left I saw Saxbjǫrn as he ended the life of the traitor, Beorn Straight Hair. The cheer from behind me told me that we had won. The Bretons were fleeing. Those on my right followed them but we were too exhausted. I stood amidst a charnel house but Pascweten, heir to Alan the Great, lay dead and we had won the battle. Now could I win the peace?

  Chapter 15

  We had dying warriors and horses to despatch but as I looked around I saw that we had lost many warriors. Two of my hearth weru were still with me. Harold Strong Arm guarded my home and my son and I had lost all but two of those who had sworn to give their lives for me. They had kept their word. Egil lived yet. He grinned. “I thought when the horse and rider died that my service to the Lord of Rouen was over.”

  “You gained honour for you did not flinch. Godwin?”

  “He lives. He did not have to face the horsemen.” He waved an arm, “It was bloody!”

  “And they will pay. It will not be in blood but they will bleed gold.” I turned, “Ragnar, have those who did not fight clear the field. Burn the enemy and bury ours. Start to take the mail and weapons back to the longphort.”

  “Aye lord. Our men have been avenged.”

  “Perhaps. We have killed the King’s son but King Alan still eludes my blade”

  Saxbjǫrn limped over. He had been wounded, “And I can sleep at night.” He held the head of Beorn Straight Hair. “Not a Dane remains alive.”

  “You have done well.” I turned to my captain of archers. “Petr, take your horsemen and follow the Bretons. I would know what they intend.”

  “Aye lord.” He ran to his horse and waved over his men.

  “A great victory, lord!”

  “Thank you, Sven Blue Cheek, but King Alan was not here and it feels hollow.”

  He waved a hand across the field. “His army is defeated. We killed more than a hundred horsemen and horses. The King has lost a son. Had I offered you this when we left Ċiriċeburh you would have bitten off my hand.”

  I nodded, “You are right but look at our dead.”

  Æbbi Bonecrusher and Haaken the Bold approached. “You are right lord, we have lost warriors but even now they are in Valhalla and are being hailed as heroes. They were not foresworn and all died with a sword in their hands. They took many Bretons with them. Our line did not break and we won. Celebrate and do not mourn. We will honour our dead and tonight, when we drink, we will remember them!”

  We made camp just east of the battlefield. The wind was from the sea and took the smell of death towards Vannes. If we buried our dead then they would be despoiled by the Bretons. Instead we made a pyre where they had fallen. Their swords were killed and placed in their hands and they were burned. This was not a Christian burial. There was no chanting. This was not something we wrote down. Each warrior who wished to said goodbye to their shield brothers or just remembered them silently. As the flames licked higher around the bodies it was easy to see their forms in the smoke as they rose to Valhalla. We had all heard the story of Dragonheart who had gone to Miklagård and died. He had gone to Valhalla but then returned for his work was unfinished. He had lived long after he saw Valhalla. The stories he told were now the stuff of legend. When we looked up and saw the smoke rising we knew what Valhalla would be like. I could see Petr the Slow as he was offered a horn of ale by my grandfather. When the fire died down we returned to our camp.

  We butchered and cooked the dead horses. Men cleared the field of all that was valuable. I had Pascweten’s body and head covered with a cloak. We would need them. My riders returned well before dark. “They are fled to Vannes, lord.”

  I nodded and waved my lords around me. “We will stay this night. Saxbjǫrn, take the rest of the treasure and the wounded to the ships. You can use the horses we captured. Lars take your men to help them.”

  Saxbjǫrn had been wounded but like the rest of those who would be returning to the ships the wounds would just be honourable battle scars. The ones whose wounds had been more serious were given a warrior’s death. Saxbjǫrn nodded, “Aye lord. Now that I have avenged my shield brothers I will hang up my own shield. This wound will slow me in battle. I will be your lord of Carentan. I will make my warriors ready to fight for you but I will ride to war no more.”

  I had known this was coming. I had seen a change in him. The deaths of so many of his men had made him doubt himself. A warrior who doubts himself gives his enemy an edge in battle. They ate and then left. All of the wounded were mounted and the other horses carried the spare treasure from the fight back to the drekar. Leif was the most inexperienced of the lords who sat around my fire. Egil and Godwin acted as servants fetching ale and food. With just two oathsworn left to me I needed their presence and I trusted them both. “Lord is this over? Will they fight again?”

  Sven Blue Cheek ch
uckled, “I hope so. If they do then Brittany will be ours.” The young warrior looked confused and Sven explained. “We broke them today. They lost five for every one of ours. They made the mistake of bringing farmers for they thought to drive us hence easily. More than half of their army was made up of men who are not warriors. They will not fight again.”

  “But suppose King Alan comes?”

  “If he was close by then he would have led his men. Thanks to Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson we have an ally in Fulk le Roux.”

  I shook my head, “More like the Norns, Sven.”

  “You do yourself a disservice, lord. The Norns put the warrior from Anjou before you but you chose the right path.” He turned back to Leif. “It is more likely that they will sue for peace.”

  “And then we prepare for a bigger war. We prepare to take on the Franks.” I smiled at Leif, “There your new home, Leif Haroldsson, may well become a battle ground.”

  “We now have more mail and better weapons lord and we can make our new home stronger.”

  Bergil’s wife was with child again and I saw the concern on his face as he asked, “Will it be soon, Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson?”

  “If King Alan had been here then I would have said yes for he and the Emperor are working together. I can see now that the title of king, which Charles bestowed upon the Breton, was the price he paid for an alliance. If King Alan had been here then it would have told me he was trying to draw me away from my home. This defeat for the Frank’s ally helps us and delays the war. They will try to find other allies to fight us. They may even hire Vikings.” I pointed to the pile of Viking bodies which still lay where they had fallen. “Since Guthrum was converted there are many of his men who are swords for hire. The Franks pay well. Bergil Fast Blade, you will see your child born and begin to walk before we have to fight.” I waved a hand at them all. “You have that time to build up your forces so that your walls are strong and you have enough to leave on your walls and to bring more men than you brought this day. When we fight the Franks, I want the victory to be so complete that they never fight us again. Then we can return our attention to these treacherous Bretons.”

  It was noon when the Bretons appeared. Although they brought many men they did not come for war. We arrayed our lines to show them that we were ready to fight but when the priests came towards us I knew that these would be peace talks. The fine robes told me that it was a bishop who had been sent. “Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson I am the Bishop of Vannes, Rudalt, Count of Vannes, wishes to talk peace with you.”

  “Who is this Rudalt?”

  “He is the youngest son of King Alan.”

  I nodded and pointed to a spot close to where Pascweten had fallen. His body lay nearby covered by a cloak. The meeting place was close enough for Petr and my archers to kill any who attempted treachery. “I will bring four lords. This Count of Vannes can bring the same number.”

  Sven Blue Cheek, Sámr Oakheart, Bergil Fast Blade and Ragnar the Resolute came with me. I left Leif in command. Æbbi Bonecrusher and Haaken the Bold would be there to advise him if that was needed.

  Rudalt was young and he rode as did the three lords who came with him. He looked down, “We would have peace, Viking.”

  I nodded and said, “Then get down from your horse pup lest I take its legs and force you to the ground.”

  He coloured and I saw him glance at one of the older lords with him. He had been advised already to be respectful. The Bishop said, as the young Count dismounted, “Let us remember the dead who lie about this field, lords. They are yet unburied.”

  I smiled, “Our dead have gone to Valhalla already. If you wish to honour your own dead then let us speak quickly before the rats and foxes return to feast upon the dead.”

  Rudalt glanced to a pile of bodies which appeared to move. It was rats. He said, quickly, “We would have peace. What do you want?”

  “Firstly, I need to know if you have the authority to negotiate. I do not want your father to come back to me and say that he does not agree with that which his son has spoken.”

  The Bishop spoke, “I am here so that all will be done well. Whatever we agree is agreed by the King.”

  “We will leave this land.” I saw the relief on all of their faces although the older warrior still looked sceptical. “However, there is a price. Firstly, King Alan will agree that my settlements on the Cotentin are Viking and will remain untouched. They are not Frank and they are not Breton. If you cannot agree to that then now is the time to end these talks and to draw swords.”

  They looked at each other and the young Count nodded and said, “That is agreed.”

  Secondly, we have many Bretons we took. They are unharmed. We have them gathered at the river close to our drekar. If you would have them back then you must buy them.”

  “Buy them?” Rudalt frowned.

  “We have to pay for this war. We either sell them to you or to the slave markets in Dorestad!”

  The Bishop said, “We will buy them!”

  “I also have your brother’s body and his head. Would you wish them for burial?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then there is a price for him too.” He nodded. “The price for the body and the captives is ten thousand silver pieces or the equivalent in gold.”

  The Count looked at the Bishop who nodded, “Agreed.” The church would be providing the coin.

  “You will bring it to the place you call Hennebont. Do not be tardy for we need to eat. A hungry Viking raids. As a measure of our good will you can take your brother’s body this day.” I pointed to the cloaked form. “How long will you need, Bishop?” I knew that Rudalt was a figurehead. The Bishop held the power.

  I saw the older warrior hide his smile. The Bishop said. “It will be with you by noon tomorrow. The captives are unharmed?”

  “The only ones who died were the men who fought us. They have been fed and are unmolested.”

  The Bishop said, “I would send one of my priests with you so that the captives can be given hope.”

  I nodded, “They have that already but I do not mind.” They rose. “Before you leave know this. We can be a good neighbour so long as we are left alone but we are the deadliest of enemies for unless you take our head we will fight you. If your King wishes more land there will be easier enemies from whom he can take it.” I saw the Bishop nodding. He understood my words. If this was not the end of the war then we would unleash a beast upon the Bretons which they would not be able to contain.

  The priest brought a cross with him which he carried before him. Perhaps he thought it gave him protection. Before we left my men brought me three horses they had found wandering on the battle field. They were bigger horses and I was able to ride. We headed back to Hennebont. The Bishop had been right to send the priest for the relief amongst the captives made our last day easier. The decks on the drekar were lifted to enable us to load the treasure. I had decided that each man would be given an equal share of the treasure we took. I know that some men would have thought that it was overgenerous. It had been Poppa who needed coin and I was rich enough. I had chests of coin already in Rouen. I would reward my men and that would draw more men to my standard. I needed a larger army.

  The chests arrived as had been promised. I let the captives go. They fled, with the priests and the men who had escorted the chests. We were left in an empty town. It took until dark to load the ships and replace the decks. Then we loaded the animals. I took back the three large horses. One by one my drekar headed down the river until there were just two left. Mine and Gandálfr’s. Our men fired the town, the wharf and the ships Then we hoisted the sail and headed down the river. The red sky seemed to reflect my standard. The burning town would be a reminder of the folly of attacking Vikings.

  As we sailed downstream, letting the current and the sail do the work, I thought about the campaign. I had left twice as many men at home than I had brought with me. Admittedly most of them did not have mail but they were all warriors
. They were not the Breton farmers we had faced. Bjorn the Brave and Bagsecg had more than a hundred and twenty warriors between them They had not been used. If war came early it would be unwelcome but we would cope. To win I wanted time to strengthen our forces. The silver we had been given would make us all better armed. I would use my own coin hoard to equip my oathsworn.

  My two hearth weru sat at the prow. They were talking about Harold Strong Arm. “He will be angry that he was not there with them when they died.”

  I heard their words. Harold Strong Arm had told me that his days of fighting in a shield wall were gone. I knew what they did not. He would command Rouen. I let them finish their talk. The two would be reliving the battle and the deaths of their friends. They had been engrossed and not seen me listening. They turned when they saw me. Haaken said, “You have but two hearth weru lord. It is not enough.”

  I nodded, “And that is why I come to speak with you. When we return I would have you spread the word that I need oathsworn. You three will ensure that the ones I have are the best. Mail and good weapons are not a prerequisite. I need men who are strong in heart. I need men who do not wish for a family. I have gold and silver. I will buy what they need. They will be equipped as Alan of Auxerre and his men were. When we fight they will stand out upon the battle field.”

  Æbbi Bonecrusher gave me a curious look. “Did you not see, lord, that the Breton whose head you took also had a red standard? On his standard, however, was a curious creature.”

  Haaken said, “It was a lion. I have seen them before. They live in the hot places. They are like a wolf but they have shorter fur and do not hunt in packs. I have heard men call them the King of the Beasts!”

  I smiled, “I used one on the coins I gave to my men. It is a powerful creature.”

  Æbbi Bonecrusher laughed, “Then this Pascweten had a high opinion of himself.”

  “He was a fair warrior. He knew how to fight.” I thought back to the battle and I remembered the red standard. By closing my eyes, I saw the lion. “It was a battle of the red and the horse won.”