The Great Heathen Army

by H A CULLEY

  The rest of September and most of October was filled with hard work. Initially felling and preparing timber and then making the gates and erecting the buildings. Alric was eager to help and did what he could. Gradually he rebuilt the wasted muscles of his right arm and by the end of the month he looked much more like the brother I used to know.

  I had tried to ask him about his time with the Danes but he was reluctant to talk about it, so I dropped the subject. He and I had been very close when we lived at Cilleham but now he was withdrawn and reserved. Oh, he was grateful to me for rescuing him, but our relationship had changed. When we were younger he was always the leader and I basked in his shadow. Now he readily accepted the fact that our little warband was mine and never tried to interfere.

  When I thought about it, it was remarkable that Redwald, Jerrik, Øwli, Leofflæd or Ecgberht had never challenged me either. All were older than me, a couple by two years or more, but everyone seemed to accept my leadership quite happily. Of course, there were tensions, particularly between Jerrik, Øwli and the three Danes. I suppose it was inevitable after being mistreated when they were thralls. Strangely Alric had accepted Erik and the others readily and could often be found improving his Danish whilst he corrected their English.

  Leofflæd was the centre of attention, of course. Ten boys on the verge of manhood around one attractive girl was bound to create problems. I believed that the interest the others had in her was purely sexual, whereas I fancied myself in love with her. It never became a problem, however, because she was adept at keeping them at a distance. The only one she seemed interested in was Alric but I came to realise that that she was merely mothering him. As he recovered she paid him less and less attention.

  The hard work involved in building our accommodation for the winter bound us closer together as a group but there were times when I felt lonely. We were all a team but there were three distinct groups within the whole: the Danes and Alric; Leofflæd, Ecgberht, Redwald and Cei – probably because they were all older than the rest of us; and Jerrik and Øwli.

  As October passed I realised that we needed to stock the larder for the winter. We had survived so far on what we had brought with us from Lindocolina, supplemented by trout from the Tinan and small game we had hunted. We probably had enough flour, barley and lentils to last us but we needed a lot more meat.

  As soon as the smokehouse was completed we chopped up a lot of the leftover oak into chippings to feed the fire and went hunting for deer and boar. We had no dogs to track the animals so we had to rely on our own skills. Alric and I were the best trackers and so we walked ahead of the rest, who were mounted. There was only a strip of woodland, now somewhat depleted after our construction work, before the river and so we set out across the wild landscape to the north.

  We came across several spoors but they were all old. The day was nearly over before we found fresh tracks. It was of a boar, a sow, and several piglets. The ground became rocky and they were difficult to track but I saw a small lake below us and I guessed that was where they were headed. Dusk is a favourite time for animals to drink.

  I sent Erik, Ulf, Tove, Jerrik and Øwli ahead to cut the boars off whilst the rest of us chased them down. I had deliberately chosen the Danes and the former thralls in the hope that forcing them to work together might overcome any animosity between them. It could have been a mistake and it came close to being so.

  We soon caught the boars up and they ran squealing straight towards where the five were waiting. They had dismounted and, leaving Tove to hold the horses, they strung their bows and waited with one arrow knocked and three others placed in the ground in front of them ready for quick use.

  Their first volley wounded the sow and killed two of the piglets. A second volley quickly followed killing the last piglet, finishing off the sow and wounding the boar. There wasn’t time for a third volley before the boar charged straight at Ulf. He dropped his bow and grabbed for his spear but he fumbled it. It fell to the ground and he stood there mesmerised as the enraged animal aimed its wicked tusks at his stomach. Had he reached Ulf the boy would have been disembowelled.

  Jerrik was standing a few yards to one side of Ulf, who was the last in the line. He had been quicker to discard his bow and grab his spear but he stood there making no attempt to go to Ulf’s aid. From where I sat a hundred yards behind the killing zone I had a perfect view but I was too far away to do anything. Suddenly Jerrik seemed to make his mind up and he thrust his spear into the side of boar just as it launched itself at the petrified Ulf.

  Either it was expertly aimed or Jerrik was lucky and the point of the spear penetrated the thick hide just behind the foreleg and lodged in the boar’s heart. The spear was pulled out of Jerrik’s hands as the now dead animal’s momentum carried it onwards. His head hit Ulf’s chest and the boy went flying backwards to end up on the ground with the dead boar on top of him.

  Apart from a gash to his chin made by one of the tusks, he was uninjured. Jerrik and the other two pulled the heavy carcasse off Ulf and the boy got shakily to his feet, helped up by Jerrik. Ulf pulled Jerrik towards him and hugged him. At first Jerrik stood there rigid, his arms by his side, but then he hugged Ulf back and they parted smiling at each other. I breathed several sighs of relief, not just because Ulf had survived practically unscathed, but now perhaps the animosity between the two brothers and the Danes was at an end.

  We took the dead swine back in the cart and inexpertly butchered them. We hung the joints from the boar, the sow and two of the piglets in the smoke house but we feasted on the smallest piglet that night. Ulf and Jerrik were the heroes of the day and many toasts were drunk to them, using up the last of our ale but no one seemed to care.

  I woke with a splitting head the next morning and decided to drink more moderately in future. Then I remembered that we had no more ale and so that wouldn’t be a problem.

  Ϯϯϯ

  We were nearly ready for winter when Jerrik, Øwli and Ecgberht came riding back. They had been looking for wild onions, garlic and herbs to dry and use for seasoning but they brought dire news as well. They had seen smoke in the distance to the east and had gone to investigate. There was a Viking longship moored at the bridge over the Tinan and the crew were pillaging the priory.

  It was only a small longship of a type called a snekkja with a crew of between thirty and forty. It was far too many for us to tackle and so we prayed that the longship would return whence it came rather than venture further upriver. We were destined to be disappointed.

  I had stationed two of us to watch out for the snekkja, just in case it came our way. The next day Cei and Alric came riding back to say that the ship had lowered its mast to pass under the bridge and the Danes were now rowing slowly towards us. We hadn’t lit the fire in the central hearth that morning and we had left the gates open so that the fort looked as deserted as it had when we had found it.

  Our hope was that the Danes would pass us by. I knew that would mean that they would inevitably discover Hagustaldes and I had sent Redwald to warn the ealdorman. There was little more we could do.

  However, the Danes didn’t pass us by. Presumably the stumps left by the timber we had felled attracted their attention. They moored below us and a party of a dozen came ashore to investigate. They looked around the gap we had left in the wood and scanned the old wall. I thought that they were about to return to their ship when one of them pointed towards our fort and said something to the Dane who appeared to be their leader.

  ‘We must close the gates,’ Øwli whispered urgently to me.

  We were crouched behind the battlements on top of the wall and I risked a quick look down at the curious men who were now making their way up the slope towards the fort.

  ‘Not yet,’ I replied.

  Erik and Ulf were in the courtyard waiting for my order to shut and bar the gates but I wanted the Danes to be well within range first.

  ‘Ready your arrows but wait for my order. Pick your targets when I say so. Pass it on,
’ I whispered to Øwli and to Ecgberht on my other side.

  When the enemy were less than fifty paces away I stood up yelling ‘now.’ I pulled back and released in one swift movement. My target was the man I thought must be their leader. He was wearing a chainmail byrnie but that didn’t protect him at that range. The arrow struck his chest and he fell.

  We had been practicing archery for the past month or more and, although some were better than others, everyone was now a reasonably accurate bowman. Even so two missed completely, no doubt due to nerves, and of the other seven arrows two struck the same man, so we had managed to take only seven warriors out of the fight.

  The other five looked stunned for a moment, then they turned and ran. It did them no good. We got off two volleys at them before they’d gone twenty yards and hit every single one; most were dead but the cries from two of them indicated that they were only wounded. Another volley of arrows tore into their bodies and the screams ended abruptly.

  Everyone jumped in the air yelling jubilantly, but there were still another score of Danes left in the ship. I half expected them to cast off and row back downstream. If so, we would have had to quit our winter quarters because they would undoubtedly return with enough men to take the fort. Luckily the ship’s captain was more intent on revenge than taking the sensible course of action.

  Leaving two men and what looked like a couple of thralls aboard, he led the rest ashore. At least he had the common sense not to make a frontal assault. He led his men over the rubble and thorough a collapsed section of the wall two hundred yards away and then they crept along close to the far side of the wall, thinking that they would be safe from our arrows.

  ‘Come on. Up to the top of the gatehouse,’ I yelled, sprinting along the walkway.

  I climbed up to the platform on top of the north gate from where I had a good view down towards the Danes. As the others joined me and we drew back our bowstrings the Danes raised their shields above their heads to protect themselves.

  I whispered to Leofflæd what I proposed and she grinned back at me. It caused my heart to leap but now was hardly the time for romantic thoughts. I took careful aim at the leading man and put an arrow in his foot. He yelped in pain and lowered his shield. As soon as he did Leofflæd put an arrow in his chest. At that range it would have penetrated chainmail; as the man was only wearing a leather tunic the arrow went through his ribs and deep into his heart. He was dead before his body slumped to the ground.

  The others halted uncertainly and we did exactly the same thing to the next man in the line. The captain tried to rally his men but they had had enough and they turned to flee. He struck one man with the flat of his sword to try to get him to obey and in doing so exposed his torso. Leofflæd and I both aimed at him and he went down with two arrows in him. One in his neck and one in his chest.

  That did it. The rest fled. A hail of arrows followed them and four more men fell before they were out of range. Not all were dead but we had no time to deal with those who were only wounded. I counted eleven men running back to their ship. We had done much better than I could have hoped, but I couldn’t let them get away to tell other Danes about us.

  ‘Get mounted,’ I shouted as I headed to the stables.

  It took us five minutes to saddle up and ride out of the gates. By this time the last Dane had boarded, the snekkje had cast off and they had started to row back downstream. Thankfully the current behind them was sluggish and they only had enough rowers to man five of the fifteen oars on each side. By the time that they were halfway back to the bridge near the priory we had passed them.

  We leapt off our horses, grabbed our bows and quivers and raced onto the bridge. I was so focused was I on the task in hand that I scarcely noticed the blackened ruins where the priory had once stood.

  By the time we had reached the centre of the bridge and had taken a couple of deep breaths to quieten our breathing the snekkje was less than a hundred yards away. The steersman had spotted us and was urging the rowers to put their backs into it. I took aim and lodged my first arrow in his fat belly. The man fell against the steering oar, pushing it sharply to the right. The longship lurched to the left and headed towards the bank where Tove was holding our horses.

  One of the rowers jumped up to grab the steering oar but someone put an arrow in his back. The rest released their arrows as I grabbed my second one from my quiver. Eight arrows hit home, killing or wounding six of the rest. That left four. They let go of their oars and grabbed their weapons and their shields. When the bows rammed into the bank they ran forward to jump ashore.

  ‘Back to the horses’ I shouted.

  Tove stood rooted to the spot as the four warriors charged towards him. Suddenly he hauled himself into the saddle and, leading the rest, he headed onto the bridge. We ran to meet him and grabbed our shields and whatever weapon came to hand: spear, sword or axe. Then we formed a shield wall two deep facing the four men.

  We had practiced fighting in a shield wall but, of course, we had never done so for real. Those of us in the front rank held our shields so as to protect our bodies and thighs, whilst the rank behind lifted their own shields so as to protect both our heads and theirs. We held our swords ready, the blades poking through the gaps between our shields whilst the men in the second rank also pushed their spears through the shield wall. It looked for all the world like an angry hedgehog.

  The four warriors yelled insults at us whilst we stood silently waiting for their charge. This seemed to infuriate them even more. Suddenly they charged and my world shrank to the one man heading directly for where I stood.

  ‘Brace,’ I yelled, and the second rank put their shields against our backs and pushed to prevent us being forced back.

  A moment later I felt an axe strike the shield above my head and the inside of the shield struck my helmet a heavy blow. I was slightly stunned, but not so much that I couldn’t thrust my sword forward into the belly of my opponent. At the same time Øwli, who was holding his shield against my back, shoved the point of his spear into the Viking’s face. He fell away and I found myself looking at a group of horsemen sitting and watching us on the north bank.

  I prayed that they weren’t more Danes before I became aware of another of the raiders to my left. I pushed his shield to one side so that I could thrust my sword into his side. Before I could do so, he turned towards me and raised his two-handed battleaxe on high. Then Alric, who was to my left, thrust his own sword into the man’s eye and he fell back, crashing onto the timbers of the bridge.

  It was over. The four warriors were all dead. Our only casualties seemed to be Alric’s broken shield and Erik, who had a bad headache and a dented helmet. However, there were still the six horsemen who had sat watching us without helping either us or the enemy.

  ‘Who are you?’ I called across to them.

  ‘More to the point, who the hell are you?’ one of the horsemen called back.

  They were a strange looking group, as I suppose we were in their eyes. There were three boys aged from perhaps twelve to fifteen and three warriors. Thankfully they were dressed like Anglo-Saxons, not Danes.

  ‘I’m Jørren of Cilleham in Cent,’ I called back, ‘and these are my friends and companions.’

  It sounded a bit too pretentious to call ourselves a warband, even though we had just killed the crew of a Viking longship all by ourselves.

  ‘You are a long way from home, Jørren of Cilleham,’

  ‘I came to rescue my brother, who was a captive of the Great Heathen Army.’

  ‘Oh, did you? And did you succeed?’ he asked derisively.

  ‘As I’m standing here,’ Alric said, ‘I suppose he must have done.’

  The man’s jaw dropped and two of the boys with him sniggered, which earned them a sharp look from their leader.

  ‘We have also just killed the entire crew of a snekkje,’ I added. ‘That brings our tally to around fifty.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ the man said in a tone which indicated that he
meant it.

  ‘You know who we are but I have no idea who I’m talking to.’

  ‘I’m Wigestan, a member of the gesith of Edmund, Ealdorman of Bebbanburg.’

  ‘Nice of you to help us then,’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘You didn’t look as if you needed much help, but I hadn’t realised that you were just boys.’

  ‘We’re not,’ Leofflæd said with a sweet smile, taking off her helmet and letting her long brown hair fall down her back. ‘But I’ve killed more Danes than anyone here except Jørren.’

  ‘They weren’t Danes, they’re Norse Vikings,’ he said dismounting and walking towards us.

  ‘Nothing to do with the Great Heathen Army then?’ I asked dumbfounded.

  ‘No, they come from Orkneyjar and have been raiding all down our coast. We’re a scouting party who have been sent to find them. We knew that they’d come up the Tinan but not exactly where they were. There is a party of fifty mounted warriors waiting for us to report back. It’s seems that they won’t be needed after all.’

  He paused, counting the dead in the ship and on the bridge.

  ‘Where are the rest of them?’

  ‘We killed them when they attacked our base.’

  ‘Did you now. Well, I’ll know not to mess with you, Jørren of Cilleham,’ he said with a grin. ‘I didn’t know that they trained their warriors so young and so well in Cent.’

  ‘They don’t. We’ve learned the hard way; in any case only four of us are from Cent.’

  I regretted that as soon as I’d said it.

  ‘Oh, where are rest from then?’

  ‘They joined us on the way,’ I said evasively. ‘Besides you have three boys with you as well.’

  ‘They are scouts, not warriors.’

  ‘As were some of us, originally.’

  ‘I had better get back to our camp and report so I’ll take my leave. I suppose that all the Norsemen’s plunder should rightfully be yours?’