by Griff Hosker
As we cleared our last line I saw the battle ahead. The fyrd had joined Aethelbald. His veteran warriors were not in a solid line. That was not a good thing for the Saxon eorledman. They were easier to kill and they blocked the path of his better warriors but the numbers were so great that there was a good chance that Sven and his men would be overwhelmed.
When we were just thirty paces from them I shouted, “Halt! Wedge!” Only the finest of warriors could obey such orders and ignore the pounding of blood in their ears. My Ulfheonar were amongst the few who could do so. Haaken and Olaf locked behind me. Rollo, Beorn and Rolf were behind them. Aðils was a lone fourth rank but he had his bow. Protected by six of us he could pick off their leaders with impunity. I intended to carve a line through the Saxons and reach Aethelbald. If we could kill him then his men would lose heart.
I banged my shield and chanted.
Ulfheonar never forget
Ulfheonar never forgive
Ulfheonar fight to the death
Ulfheonar never forget
Ulfheonar never forgive
Ulfheonar fight to the death
Ulfheonar never forget
Ulfheonar never forgive
Ulfheonar fight to the death
Ulfheonar never forget
Ulfheonar never forgive
Ulfheonar fight to the death
It made the men at the rear of the Saxons turn, but more importantly I heard a cheer from our beleaguered men. Our voices carried above the screams and cries of the dead and dying. Our song brought hope that their jarl had not forgotten them and was coming. The men who saw me every day in my home found strength they did not know they had. Sven Long Walking’s men braced shields and presented a solid wall to buy the time for us to get to them. They did not know how few we were. It was enough to know that the Dragonheart was coming. Our enemies did not know our numbers. In the press of battle all that they heard was the song and the banging. They heard the words, ‘Ulfheonar’! That told them that shape shifters were coming. We were the barbarians who ate babies and the ones whom King Egbert had failed to destroy. We were the ones led by the Viking with a magic sword and were not afraid of death. The words had been heard before but each time they sent a chill into the hearts and minds of our foes.
There were just seven of us and we could move far quicker than the line we had just left. We ploughed, quite literally, into the back of the fyrd. It mattered not to us that they were peasants armed with whatever they had found. They were trying to kill our shield brothers. I hacked and slashed the first two with two savage swinging blows. Haaken and Olaf swung their weapons on either side of me. We used horizontal blows. It cleared a space and could hurt more than one warrior. With no mail to slow it down Olaf’s axe head went through one man and into the next man. Blood spurted and erupted from skulls struck by Rolf’s axe and Rollo. I saw arrows soaring over our heads and knew that Aðils and Beorn were sending death into the rear of those who were trying to get at Sven and his oathsworn. This was not what the fyrd had expected when they had charged my men. They had expected to fight alongside their lord and his mailed man and gain some glory. Now they were being attacked by a metal monster with red eyes and blades to which there was no defence. The ones before us parted. They tried to escape. Any who came within range of our axes and swords died. These were the fyrd. They were farmers and fishermen. They were not meant to fight in a shield wall. Saxons were trampled to death by their own warriors who were desperate to get away from this charnel house. Their families in Lundenwic were forgotten. How could a dead man protect his family?
I saw the rear of the line of warriors facing Sven. Spurred on by the fleeing fyrd we ran at them. They were so engrossed in trying to get at Sven Long Walking and his men that they failed to either hear or see us. We slew five men who knew nothing about the Viking storm which struck them. Their cries and the blood which splattered from their bodies alerted the next warriors and they began to turn. Their turning released the pressure on Sven and his men. The Saxons at the front of their line began to suffer. The first men who turned were unable to bring their weapons to bear and they fell but the next ones were ready. Our wedge became a line. All behind us were dead. Our lines were so close that there was barely space to move. Aðils was the only one who was not in contact and I saw his arrows arcing still. He was choosing his targets. When Eorledman Aethelbald’s standard bearer fell there was a cheer from the men of Cyninges-tūn and Sven’s band of beleaguered brothers.
I could barely move my sword hand. I slipped Ragnar’s Spirit into my left hand and, reaching down, drew my seax from my boot. The Saxon who was facing me tried to head butt me as my head came up. I presented the pointed top of my helmet. The sharpened edges went into his eye and his cheek. He roared in anger rather than pain. Before he could do anything else I had rammed and ripped my seax under his byrnie. His guts spilled over my hands and I pushed him back with my shield. The warrior fighting Haaken tried to pull Haaken’s shield forward. It was too inviting a target and I drove the seax up and under his arm into his armpit and then his neck. As the artery was severed his blood sprayed over us all. The seax is the perfect weapon for a shield wall. A warrior can stab and he can slash. I did both. The spears, swords and axes I faced could not do me harm. Swords clattered off my helmet and mail. Spears rammed my shield and slithered down the side of my helmet but we hacked and slashed our way through to where I could now see Sven Long Walking, bathed in blood exhorting his men to fight. My arms were now becoming weary but a warrior fights through such pain. The edge of my seax ripped across the neck of another Saxon whose sword arm was trapped by the press of men. My mail was now covered in the blood of dead Saxons. The red of my eyes was almost hidden by the red on my helmet.
Behind me I heard a cry, it was Ragnar’s voice, “Dragonheart! Dragonheart! We come!” Ragnar had managed to drive the rest from the field and join us. We now had a chance. So long as our archers held the fyrd in the woods then Ragnar’s reinforcements could decide the battle.
As the rest of our warriors threw themselves into the fray, the hearts of the Saxons were broken. Eorledman Aethelbald sounded the horn and he and his men fled east, across the stream and through the swamp. Isolated groups of Saxons, unable to escape were surrounded and slaughtered by men who wanted vengeance for dead shield brothers. The Ulfheonar, with the exception of Aðils Shape Shifter, were spent. While his arrows still flew we six slumped and gasped for air. Even Olaf Leather Neck, his axe notched and bloody could barely give voice to his thoughts. We just panted. I was like Úlfarr after a long run.
I turned as Ragnar rushed up to me and embraced me, “Grandfather, you truly have the heart of a dragon but you cannot continue to do this. Look at you!”
He stepped back and I looked at my mail. It was red. I took off my helmet and it too was red. There were new dents, cuts, scratches and even a hole where a spear had managed to penetrate the metal. Haaken took off my wolf cloak and laughed. He handed it to me. There were rents and cuts all over it. I had not felt the cuts from behind me. My cloak would go to war no more. It had been the first wolf I had killed and now the cloak could no longer be used. Haaken laughed and my men shook their heads in wonder but I knew; it was a sign. My end was not far away. I laughed with my warriors and my grandson but my heart was heavy. The Otherworld was drawing closer to me.
I nodded, barely able to get my breath, “Aye grandson and you did well.” I spread my arm at the Saxons who were heading slowly east. It had been a bloodbath but we had fought them to a standstill. “You won the day. We can take their armour and swords and we can bury our dead. They will not bother us for a while.”
“Will they try to buy us again?”
“I doubt it. We have their treasure. They do not know it yet but they have paid us already. We have Aethelbald’s gold. I would gamble that this Aethelbald has sent a rider to King Aethelwulf to tell him of the raid. From what I have learned he has aspirations to be King of Essex. Egbert was a strong king and he
ld a large kingdom together. He subjugated Mercia, Cent, Essex and both Northumbria and the Kingdom of the East Angles acknowledged him as Bretwalda. If Aethelwulf does not come then Aethelbald will take it as a sign of weakness. He will need gold to buy warriors.”
“Then this becomes a honey pot for us to visit whenever we need to be sweetened.”
“Aye, Ragnar, but I fear this will be the last time I come here.” He looked at me in surprise. I waved an arm at my men. They were silent for they were trying to recover. “I have one Ulfheonar who is young. The rest have all seen many years of fighting. Even Rollo and Rolf are no longer young men and there are four of us who should not be alive. The Allfather has spared us too many times already. You do not need me. You led this raid and you did well.”
“But I made mistakes and if you had not been here then who knows the results.”
“And that is life, Ragnar. Men make mistakes and either learn from them or they die. We will have enough treasure and grain from this raid so that we do not need to return for many years. There are easier places to raid. The Isle of the Angle Sea is closer and the warriors there poorly armed. We came here for grain and for treasure. You need to ask what the clan needs; what you need.”
He nodded, “What were you like when you were my age, grandfather?”
“You ask what was I like inside?” He nodded. “Much the same as I am now. A man does not change inside. His body ages. He becomes grey or loses his hair. He grows a belly and he forgets things but inside he is the same man he always was. Be wary of any who say they are not, for a man must be true to himself. I cannot tell you how to lead. Prince Buthar did not tell me. I am different to him and you will be different to me. You are on a different path to me. The Norns have linked us with their threads but there are others that lead to different places. Perhaps beyond the edge of the western sea. Who knows?”
Chapter 13
Although Sven Long Walking was still alive, he had had his cheek and arm laid open. We had captured some of the priests who accompanied the Saxon army and we made them use their skills to sew him up. We had lost many men from our settlement. Their families would have grain and treasure but that would not replace the men they had lost. Many of the new warriors who had joined us would take on the families of the dead. Our women were hardy.
Ragnar had collected some of the horses. He insisted that the Ulfheonar ride seven of them. Others were hitched to carts and wagons which were used to carry back the wounded, the mail and the armour. Our dead were taken down the stream and sent to Ran on the Temese. If we buried them then their bodies would be dug up and despoiled. The sea would carry them home. Their spirits would return to the Water or Windar’s Mere or the Eden. All of the waters in the world were connected. They were like the Norns’ threads. The followers of the White Christ did not understand that. Once they had but the knowledge had been lost when they followed the cross. They built in straight lines. We liked circles. The world was a circle and life was a circle. No life ever went in a straight line!
It was dark as we approached the walls to the burh. Unlike the Saxons, Gruffyd and Cnut had closed the gates in the walls and manned them. They kept out enemies and stopped the burghers from leaving. My son, like Ragnar, had grown and was learning. Einar Fair Face was at the gate and, recognising me, had the gates opened. He met us just inside.
“How went it, Jarl Dragonheart?” I heard the fear beneath his words. Just seven of us had arrived back. Were we the only survivors?
“We won. It was hard fought and we lost brave men but the Saxons fled. Keep the gates open but maintain a good watch. There will be wagons and carts and Ragnar follows with the war band. They will not be long in coming. Did my son lose many men?”
He smiled, “None jarl. We had bruised knuckles and some had a bloody nose but the Saxons acquiesced quickly enough. We did not need weapons. The fight went out of most of them when our ships arrived. Gruffyd had their leaders taken into the fort where they are closely watched. It is a surety for the good behaviour of the rest of the populace. He is with Cnut Cnutson and that little Greek.”
We dismounted and led our horses through the buildings and streets to the fort. It seemed a lifetime ago since we had taken it and yet it was only hours. That served to remind me that the last food I had had was the bread the baker had given us. That seemed like days ago. Gruffyd had made sure that his men placed burning braziers outside the walls of the fort to ensure that there were no sneak attacks. He had made the area brighter. We knew how to use shadows. It was unlikely that a cowed people would attempt such an attack against Vikings but it was a sign of Gruffyd’s increasing maturity.
We walked the horses to the empty stables. We had just finished unsaddling them when my son and Cnut appeared in the stable doorway. “We won?”
“We won and I hear that you have been successful too. You have done well, my son.”
“There is food in the eating area. The Romans planned well. The Saxons may have been dirtier than rutting pigs in a mud wallow but even they could not destroy what the Romans built. We took some of the women to cook the food.” I cocked an eye. “And we had those three Frisians watching them to ensure they neither spat in the food nor attempted to poison us. The Frisians have angry eyes for they were badly treated by the Saxons. You can eat the food and know that it is safe.”
“Never mind the food, what about the ale!” Olaf Leather Neck always had an unquenchable thirst.
“The ale wives were less than happy when we took the ale but I pointed out that was the price of defeat!”
We followed them to the eating hall. They told us of their actions as we went. Men were eating when we entered. Gruffyd had explained that they had been fed in shifts. As we entered the warriors began banging the tables with their hands and chanting my name. The Saxon women recoiled in fear. I knew why. I still had the cochineal around my eyes and my mail was bathed in blood. We must have looked like creatures from another world.
Cnut waved over a woman who carried a pitcher and a bowl. I held out my hands and she poured water over my bloody hands. When it ran clear Cnut took the cloth from over her shoulder and dried my hands. I sat and swallowed the horn of ale in one. My throat had been parched. I was hungry but not yet ready to eat. I held up my horn and had it refilled.
Atticus scurried over. He had a parchment in his hand. He looked nervously at Cnut and Gruffyd. UI had no doubt that Cnut had frightened him. “I am pleased to see you alive, jarl.”
I wiped my beard with the back of my hand, “And why is that, little man?”
He smiled, “Because you were the lord who said I could come with you and be free.”
Gruffyd said, “He told me that but I did not believe him.”
Atticus flicked a baleful glance at my son, “And that is another reason why I am pleased to see you hale and hearty, jarl. I was not treated well while you were gone. I was treated like a Saxon!” He sounded offended and I laughed. “This is the list of items you asked me to list.” He hesitated, “You can read?”
“Of course.” I did not read Latin as well as Aiden but we had both learned from the nuns of the White Christ, Deidra and Macha. I could manage and I knew what words I was looking for. “Sit next to me I am getting a stiff neck looking up at you.”
He handed me the parchment and sat on the bench.
As I looked at it I asked, “Are there baths here? The Romans make good baths.”
“Sadly lord, the Saxons allowed them to fall into disrepair. The water no longer flows to them nor are they heated but I can have water boiled and you can use the bath itself. I assume you wish to be cleansed of the blood?”
“Aye but I enjoy the experience of a Roman bath. I enjoyed them in Miklagård.”
He frowned and then smiled, “Ah Constantinopolis.” He looked wistfully to the east and then said, “I can use a strigil lord and I can shave and trim your beard.”
“Then I am glad that I spared your life. I will read now and you can tell me more of your li
st.”
I tem: Maps and deeds of ownership
I tem: Coins of gold, in number, 4,000
I tem: Coins of silver, in number, 8,000
I tem: Coins of copper, in number, 14,000
I tem: The crowns and jewels of the Kingdom of Essex
I tem: Various jewels comprising rings, bracelets, necklaces and battle bands
I tem: Golden cups and other items won by Sigeberht the Champion
I tem: A silver helmet, silver tipped baldric and a silver hilted dagger
I tem: The bones of St. Edmund
I tem: Coins, various, 20,000
I tem: Fine swords and daggers
I tem: Two mail byrnies and helmets
I tem: A chest with ingots of copper and silver
A tticus of S yracuse
D ragonheart’s scribe
“These figures; you have counted all the coins?”
“No jarl. They are a rough count. There should be that amount in each chest but Sigeberht had sticky fingers. There may be a few more or there may be a few less.” He spread his arms down his simple kyrtle. “As you can see there are none about this poor Greek’s body.”
“And the bones?”
He gave me a cynical smile. “They believe them to be the saint’s bones but so, I believe, do those who have a chest in Colneceastre and Cantwareburh. I think the church will still pay to have them back. I cannot think that you would have any purpose for them.”
I rolled it up and handed it back. “Make two more copies, one for my son and one for my grandson. Then prepare my bath. I will test your skills, Atticus of Syracuse, Dragonheart’s scribe.”
He smiled, “Then you can read well.”
“I can scribe and I am never foresworn. Do not suggest that again if you wish to keep all of your limbs intact!” There was an edge to my voice. It was tiredness I think.