Viking Storm

by Griff Hosker

  We were already mailed. I donned my mail hood and carried my helmet. “Come Cnut, we go to war again!”

  My standard bearer smiled. It was a grim smile which was a warning to any Saxon who came too close that he was in the mood for killing. “Aye, jarl, my leg has had two days of rest. I could run to Lundenwic!”

  Olaf Leather Neck snorted, “Aye and I could be a courtesan in the court of the Emperor of the Romans!”

  My men were in good humour. We took our place in the centre of the line. This time Gruffyd and his men formed the third rank behind Sven Long Walking’s mailed men. He had his own banner. He had chosen the dragon as his emblem. It suited him for his mother was from Wales and his wife from Cornwall. Both used that symbol. He did not wish to take mine as his standard and I understood that. He would be his own man. Ragnar’s banner was to the left of mine.

  The slight slope before us would not slow them up but it would allow the archers who were behind Gruffyd the chance to see the fall of their arrows and adjust them. We had stakes before us but there were inviting gaps. We had placed them deliberately. I hoped that the Saxons would take the bait but if it did not then we had another ploy. Already Einar Fair Face was preparing that surprise.

  The enemy halted four hundred paces from us. They had horsemen. Our scouts had told us that and it was not a surprise. I saw that they had helmets and spears. Most had a small round shield. The horses were little more than tall ponies. The men on foot were led by eorledmen and thegns with banners. They had over half of their front rank made up of warriors dressed in mail. They had a long line three men deep. It was seventy men wide. I doubted that more than a third had mail or armour of any type. Behind them were the fyrd. There were hundreds of them. They had gathered every warrior between Lundenwic and Burntwood. Our plan had succeeded so far. If we failed now then it would be the doing of the Norns or the actions of someone like Gerlak the Cunning.

  The inevitable priests, carrying some sort of relic in a chest exhorted the warriors, I assumed, to acts of great valour for their king and their god. This time they were beyond bowshot. We stood and waited. Ragnar would respond but there was a time for such things. When the priests had finished then horns were sounded along the lines. They men of Essex stepped forward in a measured manner.

  Einar Fair Face shouted from behind us, “Jarl they are attacking from the north!”

  Ragnar said, “It is as Jarl Dragonheart predicted. The horns are their signal.”

  We watched them march. They avoided the gaps, suspecting that we had laid traps there. We had not. We had placed white stones to give us the range more accurately. When they reached the stakes, they were forced to slow as they negotiated the wooden obstacle while retaining the protection of the shields. It was within the range of our archers.

  Gruffyd shouted, “Draw!”

  Ragnar then began banging his shield with the pommel of his sword. He began to chant. Suddenly every warrior in our whole army took it up. It was a cacophony of noise which dwarfed the squeak the Saxon priests had made. Men looked up the hill as our men chanted, “Clan of the Wolf never forget, Clan of the Wolf never forgive, Clan of the Wolf fight to the death, Clan of the Wolf never forget, Clan of the Wolf never forgive, Clan of the Wolf fight to the death!”

  Looking up and attempting to negotiate the stakes meant that they did not see the arrows. The ones in the fore had mail and shields. Even so ten fell. Some were wounded but more were dead. Packed together and following the paths through the stakes was now revealed as one of my traps. More men fell. Those in the second and third ranks, who had no mail, suffered more casualties than the men in the front. Horns sounded and the lines stopped. Shields were lifted and the rain of death now became a battering of shields and helmets as arrows plunged down. It was like a hailstorm. I heard commands from their leaders and the men began to shuffle left and right to form three solid lines once more. This time they would not avoid the gaps. At the same time, the horsemen began to form lines in the centre.

  I shouted, “Einar Fair Face!”

  A delighted voice replied, “Ready Jarl Dragonheart whenever you command!”

  Our arrows were still thinning their ranks but they were not doing the same kind of damage as they had done. The Saxons were using their shields to stop the plunging arrows from hurting them. They were now but a hundred and fifty paces from us. The horsemen remained at the bottom of the slope. They were just two hundred and odd paces from us. They would charge just before their men on foot. Timing was all. I shouted, as I saw the Saxon horsemen move, “Ragnar! Einar! Now!”

  Even as the Saxons began to gallop Ragnar’s men opened their ranks and Einar and his men drove the Saxon horses down the slope. We had twenty of them and each had a burning brand attached to its tail. Once they were started the fear of fire would keep them going. They hurtled down the gap up which the Saxons rode. The Saxons just saw the horses. They assumed we were counter attacking. It was only when their own horses sensed the fear and the fire that they knew something was amiss. Horses reared. Riders without the benefit of stiraps fell from their horses. Most would be trampled by wild and frightened horses. Those horses turned and joined the stampede. There was nothing in their way and they galloped, terrified. All that would stop them was the fyrd. They were a solid mass. The horses would have to stop or ride over the men of Essex. By now over eighty horses were galloping towards the fyrd. It takes a brave man to stand and wait to be trampled. The ones in the path of the horses turned fled and away from the maddened horses. The whole of the fyrd was disrupted.

  All this time the men on foot had been approaching us. They were now less than a hundred paces from us. The Eorledman’s plan had gone awry already. His horsemen had not disrupted our lines and we had yet to suffer a wound. We would not stand idly by and wait for the Saxons to charge us. When they were forty paces from us Ragnar shouted, “Charge!” We began to move down the slope. We did not run. That invited disaster. We moved quickly.

  This time we chanted as we ran. It helped to keep the rhythm.

  Clan of the Wolf never forget

  Clan of the Wolf never forgive

  Clan of the Wolf fight to the death

  Clan of the Wolf never forget

  Clan of the Wolf never forgive

  Clan of the Wolf fight to the death

  The stakes, our arrows and the horses meant that the Saxons were no longer in a solid line. We were. They were tired, having ascended the ridge. They had spears but carrying a spear up six hundred paces of hill meant that their arm muscles burned with the effort. Our spears had been rested. We clashed. It sounded like a crack of thunder from Thor’s hammer. A warrior had to be fearless and ignore the spear which came for his face. A warrior trusted to his helmet and the amulet he wore around his neck. A warrior only worried if he fought a champion. These were oathsworn. These were not champions. As the spear, aimed at my head, clanged off the metal rim of my shield I used the weight of my body and the press of men behind to push him to the ground.

  Behind me Cnut Cnutson held the standard and his sword. He used the sharpened end of the standard to spear the Saxon as he lay like a stranded fish. I thrust my sword forward at the Saxon who stood behind. The slight slope meant that my sword angled above his shield and tore through the mail of his shoulder. My sword scored a line across his flesh and grated from his bones. He dropped his shield and Cnut thrust his sword into the space vacated by his shield.

  A spear struck my shield. It hit the metal boss and slid to the side. I used my shield to push the spear to the side and stabbed down towards the man’s groin. My sword bit into his thigh. I struck something vital as bright blood sprayed out. There was so much that, as I stepped forward into the space left by his falling body, I struggled to keep my feet.

  Ragnar must have had a similar problem for he suddenly shouted, “Clan of the Wolf, hold!”

  There were not many clans which would have been able to do as we did. Every warrior stopped. If we stopped then we could still
fight as one. We stopped moving but we did not stop killing. We hacked sliced and cut at the men who were before us. They now found the problem of keeping their feet. Gore, blood and guts, not to mention bodies lay before them.

  A voice behind us shouted, “Jarl, Jarl Ulf Olafsson has driven our foes from the field. We hold and they are fleeing. He asks if you need aid.”

  Ragnar shouted, “Tell him to hold!”

  The fact that we had halted seemed to give the Saxons hope. I heard voices, they were reedy and thin. Priests! They exhorted their men to finish us off. They said that God would give them victory. By such lies are the lives of brave men ended. They rushed at us again. This time it was men with swords and axes. A thegn swung an axe at my shield. He tried Olaf’s trick of pulling my shield open. I punched with the shield as he did so. He began to overbalance. I slashed my sword across his middle. I mistimed it slightly but I tore open his mail. He wore a blue kyrtle beneath it. Angered, he roared and, with his shield held before him, brought his axe from a long way behind him. It told me that their ranks had thinned and they did not have deep lines. Had the axe hit me then I would have had no defence. I stepped forward and angled my shield. He hit the shield with the haft of his axe. Cnut deflected the head away from the warrior standing behind me. The weight of his axe pulled his arm to the right and I stabbed at his right shoulder across his shield. Ragnar’s Spirit tore through the mail, muscle and tendons. The shield fell from his fingers. I punched his face with my shield. I did so again. His face was a bloody mess. He kept his shield as high as he could but he could no longer see. His axe lay on the ground. Carl Swenson rammed his spear into the face of the thegn. He hit him so hard that the spear head came out of the back of his helmet.

  Horns sounded. The Saxons began to fall back. We held our line for we were weary but our archers continued to empty their quivers and Saxons fell until they were beyond the white stones. Our victorious men began banging their shields and waving their spears and swords at the departing Saxons. There was no sign of the horses but the fyrd were slowly returning to their positions. The Saxons had left swathes of their dead before us.

  Olaf shouted, “Get the mail, swords and helmets from these dead!”

  Ragnar turned to me. “It worked!”

  “And we will be ready to sail as soon as the last part is in place.”

  “You are sure about this grandfather? We could sail the fleet there and would find no opposition.”

  “If you sailed and found the gates of Lundenburh closed with all of Lundenwic within then all of this would have been in vain. There are huge granaries there and great wealth in their churches. In comparison we have taken nothing so far.”

  “You are right but it is a risk.”

  “Getting up in a morning is a risk! Do not worry about old men who have lived long past the time they should have gone to the Otherworld.”

  As he wandered off to check on his own men I looked for Gruffyd. I had heard his voice during the battle but it was reassuring to see him behind me. “Will I ever be as you are, father? Will I even be close? For I have stood behind you this day and watched you slay men half your age and younger. You make it look so easy.”

  “It is not easy and you will be a great warrior. It does not happen after one battle. You do not wake up one morning and find that you are a warrior, a real warrior. It is gradual and each time you fight you become a little better. I am still learning.”

  Darkness fell. I had thought that the Saxons would have come to speak with us. Our dead had been removed from the battlefield but the carrion were already beginning to feast on our enemies. Einar Fair Face had told us that the captives had watched the battle and that they were resigned to a fate as a slave. We just had to hold our nerve. We kept sentries watching all night in case of trickery from the Saxons. I have no doubt that they expected the same from us.

  All of the men were roused before dawn. With sharpened weapons and cleaned mail we looked fresh. Ulf Olafsson had hardly suffered at all. The Saxons fighting him had fled early in the battle. We reinforced our lines with his mailed warrior. To the Saxons it would appear as though we had been reinforced by more crews. By the time the sun broke behind us we were a long line of spears, swords and shields.

  The Saxons appeared from their camp. There was no order to their arrival. They came to wonder what we would do next. As we watched the Eorledman talk with his thegns and eorls, Ragnar began to chant. The single voice and the banging of a shield echoed across the field; the chant swelled as every warrior added his voice. Each word was accompanied by a bang as we struck our shields.

  The storm was wild and the gods did roam

  The enemy closed on the Prince's home

  Two warriors stood on a lonely tower

  Watching, waiting for hour on hour.

  The storm came hard and Odin spoke

  With a lightning bolt the sword he smote

  Ragnar's Spirit burned hot that night

  It glowed, a beacon shiny and bright

  The two they stood against the foe

  They were alone, nowhere to go

  They fought in blood on a darkened hill

  Dragon Heart and Cnut will save us still

  Dragon Heart, Cnut and the Ulfheonar

  Dragon Heart, Cnut and the Ulfheonar

  The storm was wild and the Gods did roam

  The enemy closed on the Prince's home

  Two warriors stood on a lonely tower

  Watching, waiting for hour on hour.

  The storm came hard and Odin spoke

  With a lightning bolt the sword he smote

  Ragnar's Spirit burned hot that night

  It glowed, a beacon shiny and bright

  The two they stood against the foe

  They were alone, nowhere to go

  They fought in blood on a darkened hill

  Dragon Heart and Cnut will save us still

  Dragon Heart, Cnut and the Ulfheonar

  Dragon Heart, Cnut and the Ulfheonar

  It was my song and it was Haaken’s. More than that it was the song of Cnut whose son stood behind me. Each time I spoke the word’s Ragnar’s Spirit, the three of us held our swords aloft. The sun, rising behind us seemed to glint off the blades. By the time we had finished the Saxons had all gathered into their battle lines. This time they were four lines deep and there was far less evidence of mail. Three horses were brought. The Eorledman, an eorl and a priest mounted. They took off their helmets and held their hands open as they rode up the slope.

  Haaken laughed. I looked at him, “What is so funny?”

  “If you had not sent the horses to stampede you might have had a horse on which to ride!”

  “Fool! Perhaps I should sit on your back and ride a donkey!” I said it without rancour. My Ulfheonar laughed.

  Ragnar said, “Gruffyd, accompany Dragonheart and me.”

  Taking off our helmets and laying down our shields we walked through the half-eaten corpses of the Saxons. We stopped two hundred paces from our lines. The Saxon dead were all around us. Eorledman Aethelbald was in the centre. He was older than I had expected. Flecks of grey and white were interspersed with the brown. The priest was the one I had freed. The other eorl was a younger warrior.

  They reined in next to us. Eorledman Aethelbald started to speak, “We have more men coming to drive you hence barbarians. Quit the field and return our captives.”

  We said nothing. He looked puzzled and he turned to the priest and said, “I thought you said they spoke our language.”

  He hid a smile, “They do Eorledman.”

  He looked down at the three of us. I could see that he did not know what to do. I said, coldly, “If you wish to speak with us then do the courtesy of dismounting. If you do not then I will take the legs from your horses. I look up to no man! I serve no king!”

  He flushed. He was in the wrong and he knew it but he had been humiliated by my words. He dismounted. When they faced us he said, “Satisfied?”

 
Ragnar smiled, “My grandfather is no longer a patient man, Eorledman but you press your luck. Behind us we have warbands who wish to slaughter more Saxons.”

  “What is your answer?”

  “To what? We could not hear your words when you were mounted.”

  He grated his teeth and said, “We have more men coming to drive you hence barbarians. Quit the field and return our captives.”

  Ragnar nodded.

  “Then you agree?”

  “Of course not. I was nodding so that you knew we had understood your words. Here is our proposal. We will leave but we need payment. The land around here is piss poor. We want gold and we want grain. When we have them then you may have your captives and we will leave. This shore will see us no more.”

  The young eorl shook his head, “That is not going to happen. Let us fight them, uncle.”

  Eorledman Aethelbald hesitated and in that moment, I knew that we had won. Ragnar said, “Whelp, remain silent unless you have something useful to say. Your uncle knows that if we chose we could slaughter everyman we see before us. Count your dead. It is easy, they lie all around you. Look behind us at the mailed warriors with sharp blades and bright eyes then look at the slumped shoulders of your own. Will your fyrd stand? They ran when twenty horses charged them.” Ragnar switched his gaze to the Eorledman, “Your answer?”

  “What do you desire and how long do I have?”

  “Three wagons of grain and a chest of silver as heavy as the portly priest we freed. We want it here by the morning.”

  It was not an unreasonable request. “And we will have all the captives and you will leave these shores?”

  “We will return every captive and I promise that Beamfleote and Burntwood will never see the Clan of the Wolf again!”

  My grandson was clever. He had not lied and he was not foresworn. He had used words to trick them.

  “Then it is agreed. We are rid of the beast.”

  They mounted and trudged down the slope. We turned and headed back up to our men. Gruffyd told them that we had been successful when he raised his sword and shouted, “Dragonheart!” The shout was taken up by all of my men.