Blood on the Blade

by Griff Hosker

  My uncle drew his sword and put his finger to his lips. We drew our swords and I swung my shield around. Snorri waved us left and right. He and Siggi followed the trail. Siggi held up his hand and pointed. I peered through the undergrowth. A Dane with a bloody kirtle sat with his back to a tree. He held his sword in his hand. Snorri waved for Arne and me to go around and beyond him. Where there was one Dane, there might be more. We moved silently. No leaves lay on the hard ground and it was easy to avoid the foliage. I gradually headed to my left. When I met Arne and he shook his head I knew that the others had gone. We headed back to Snorri and Siggi.

  As we neared them, I heard, “You are dying, Ivar Guthrumsson. We will give you a warrior’s death. All we need to know is where the rest of your band lives.”

  “It is a dishonourable way to die. I will wait for my death.”

  We reached the tree and I saw that the Dane’s guts could be seen. Snorri, who was squatting before the Dane, nodded, “Then we can leave. We can see the way you were headed. Your line of blood leads like an arrow to your camp and it cannot be far. We will leave you here. You will last until night fall. The foxes and rats will smell your blood. Perhaps you will slay many of them before you die.”

  Siggi nodded. He was clever, “Of course if one chews off your hand or you drop the sword then you will not go to Valhalla. I will watch for the gull with the sad eyes. That shall be you.”

  Snorri rose, “Let us see if we can pick up the trail.”

  “Wait!” The shout made the Dane wince. He lowered his voice, “Promise me that after you have given me the warrior’s death you will kill my sword.”

  “I will but you know that if you do not speak true then you will spend eternity with Hel.”

  “I know.” He took his bloody hand from his guts and clutched his hammer of Thor. “Our camp is on the Ribble. We came from Jorvik. Our leader, Halfdan Ivarsson, should not have left me. I would not have told you otherwise. I shall hold him to account when we meet in the Otherworld. That is all that I will tell you. Either give me the warrior’s death as you promised or let me take my chances with the rats and foxes.”

  Snorri leaned forward and his sword entered the Dane’s eye. His head fell to the side. “Go to the Allfather. Your honour is intact.” He sheathed his own sword and taking the Dane’s he put it between two thick branches and pulled. It was a good sword but it bent. My uncle did not break it. He then bent the blade around to form a circle. He placed it back in the warrior’s hand. “Come we will return to your father, we have learned much.”

  As we headed back Arne asked, “What have we learned?”

  “That they are Danes. They have no ship and they have a leader who is losing the respect of his men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Simple, Erik, he left one to die. He ordered his men to flee a battle. Just one of those might have still given him the loyalty of his men but doing both there will be doubts. The Dane’s words told us that. Most importantly though, they have no ship. They came from Jorvik and they marched. They have a raiding camp which means that they have no women.”

  Snorri was very clever. I knew that he was not as reckless as my father which made them a good combination for the clan.

  We reached the church after dark. We dragged the snekke above the high-water mark. I could smell the food which was cooking. I realised that I had not eaten all day. Before we could eat, however, we would need to speak to my father. As we neared the church, I saw that beyond it, the bodies of our dead were laid out. It was too late to bury them this night but we would honour them the next day. They were the first of my father’s band to die and I knew, from his face, that he had taken it badly.

  He was with Butar, Galmr, Finn and Asbjorn. They were still the closest of his men. “Well?” My uncle told him all. “Thank you. I am relieved. If they have no ship then we have time to build a palisade and if they are a raiding party, we might be able to hold them off. We need to have the walls and halls built within the month.”

  Finn the Scar stroked his beard, “We need to raid too. We have few animals and no crops. The hunting and the fishing will not feed us. We need grain and that means raiding.”

  My father frowned. He was not finding this independence as easy as he might have expected. Galmr suggested, “We need to make the walls have but one entrance. That way we can leave a smaller number to guard our families. I know they are Vikings, jarl, but we are in an unknown land and we do not want to lose our loved ones. Perhaps the land of ice and fire might have been better.”

  “Perhaps but we would not have had enough provisions for that journey. From what I have been told it could take a month. No, we have thrown the bones and, for good or ill, we must live with my decision.” He rubbed his hands, “Come let us eat. We rise early and cut down more trees. Erik you can take out the young boys in the snekke and fish.”

  I did not want to. I wanted to cut down trees with the other men. I wanted to build our walls but I was the son of the jarl and I nodded, “Of course Jarl Lars.”

  We had fishing nets and after I had eaten and quenched my thirst, I gathered the six boys who would be sailing with me. I knew that they had all helped to sail the drekar. They were not novices. “We rise before dawn for that is when the fish bite the best. Our task is to catch as many fish as we can for our people. I know you are young but you must become men.”

  They grinned at me for they were excited. What are your names?”

  “Sven Fámrsson.”

  “Stig Folkmarsson.”

  They were cousins. That would help.

  “Eidel Eidelsson.” He was the smallest and, possibly the youngest.

  “Rek Rethersson.”

  “Halsten Haakensson.”

  “Dreng Ebbisson.”

  I did not know it then but the Norns were spinning. Those six would sail with me and become part of my crew but on that late summer evening I was just worrying about how to keep them alive.

  The weather was mercifully benign. We left in the dark. I positioned them on either side of the snekke and I gave them precise instructions about which rope to pull. I would not use Ulf’s method and clip them. They were keen and wanted to be with me. I would use that. I kept to the line of the estuary. I had never fished from a boat before. I decided to use a mixture of hooks and a net. Two of the boys, Dreng and Rek, used lines. I had the sail lowered and threw out the net. I allowed the current to pull us along and we gathered fish. The first pass yielded just ten fish.

  Dawn had broken and the next few passes were so poor that the two fishermen using lines were catching more. Then Halsten spotted some sea birds just fifty paces from us. “Perhaps there will be fish, captain.”

  “You may be right. Haul in the net and hoist the sail, Dreng and Rek keep your lines out.”

  The birds scattered when we arrived. The first net brought us over fifty fish. They were the shiny herring. They were a tasty fish. After ten passes we had exhausted the fish there and the well of the snekke was full. It took time to throw out the net and then haul it in. Emptying seemed to take an age so that it was noon by the time we had finished. They were tired and so we headed back to shore. We were a couple of miles out; the current had made us drift. I had the boys gut the fish as we headed east. It would save their mothers and sisters the task. The sea birds returned as the boys threw the guts in the air for them to catch. The boys, generally, were young enough for it to be a game and there was giggling and squealing. Ulf would have shouted at them. I did not. Their smiles made up for the din.

  We did not manage to carry all of the fish up until the middle of the afternoon. By then the two posts for the gate were in position and the other main timbers laid out in a circle around the church. Snorri greeted me, “You have done well! I did not know you were such a good fisherman!”

  I shrugged, “Neither did I. But I would not do this every day. I wish to help with the walls or watching for our foes!” I had seen Arne and Leif on the headland as they watched for t
he Danes.

  “Do not worry, nephew. Your catch means that tomorrow you and your crew can help put up the palisade. Your father hopes to have the walls in place within six days. Then we can start the ditch.”

  “And then the halls.” I pointed up to the skies which had become threatening and filled with rain. “We need shelter!”

  “One thing at a time. Now go and have some ale. You have earned it.”

  It was only as I poured my first horn of ale that I realised my uncle had spoken to me as an equal. I was now a man.

  Chapter 11

  Seven days later and the perimeter of palisade was almost complete. We still had a gate to build and a ditch to dig but we were stronger than we had been. The rains which had come had dampened spirits and made the camp a quagmire but the last day had seen the return of the sun and the ground had started to dry out. Men had been hunting too and they had found deer. On the fourth day, as some of us began to dig the ditch, the hunters brought unwelcome news. Asbjorn shook his head, “The Danes are coming. We were about to begin hunting when we spied them across the river. They were heading for the ford upstream.”

  “How many were there?”

  “More than forty.”

  “Quickly put the spoil from the ditch behind the palisade to make a fighting platform. Get all the animals and women and children inside.”

  Snorri asked, “And the drekar and snekke?”

  Even I knew that if they were damaged, destroyed or stolen then we were in trouble. “Erik, take your fisher boys, Arne, Siggi, Leif and Olaf. Moor the drekar and the snekke in the river. Use your stones and arrows to support us.”

  “Are you sure? There are five of us who can fight.” Arne did not want to sit idly by while the clan fought.

  “Do not worry, my son. You will be fighting. Go, we have no time to lose. They will be here by noon!”

  I gathered my crew. While Arne attached the snekke to the drekar the rest of us boarded. We had only two bows but we all had a sling and a large quantity of river stones. From what I had seen of the Danes they had little mail. If my father and his men could hold them in the gateway then we stood a chance.

  I had only had the helm of ‘Njörðr’ once. My father was showing great confidence in me. I allowed the current to take us, rather than using the sail and I had the older boys use the oars to scull us around. We threw out four woollen anchors to steady us. We faced upstream and if we had to, we could rejoin our men and help them fight the Danes.

  The Danes appeared along the river. My uncle had been correct to suggest moving the ships. They were after them. They were now thwarted. However, to get to the walls they had to pass within fifty paces of us. Arne took charge, “On my command let us see how many we can hurt.”

  The two archers nocked their best arrow. We lined the larboard side and whirled our slings.

  The Danes appeared along the river. They must have seen the two ships but dismissed them. Their leader glanced at the ships and then pointed up the bank. They began to climb the path. It made them into a single line and a better target.

  Arne shouted, “Now!”

  The rattle and cracks of stones and arrows as they struck sounded like hailstone on a drekar’s decks. They were punctuated by the sound of cries as our missiles hit men. I saw one man fall with an arrow to the thigh. A second was struck in the arm. Four were laid out by stones. I saw one Dane clutch a broken arm as Arne’s stone smashed into it. They raised their shields and ran up the slope. As they did so my father ordered the remaining archers to send arrows at them. They could defend either against us or the arrows but not both. None were killed but more than ten were hurt.

  And then all were beyond the range of our weapons. We could not see the gate from the river but we heard the clash as the two shield walls met. We had done what my father intended. The drekar was safe and I could not sit idly by. I strapped on my sword. Arne turned to look at me. I said, “I say we pull back to the shore and tie her up to the bank. We can help our warriors. Father put you in command. It is your decision but I back you, brother.

  Siggi, Leif and Olaf shouted, “And we do.”

  He nodded, “Then we go. Ship’s boys, you are to guard the drekar. Know that we five did so when we were little older than you.”

  Sven Fámrsson raised his seax, “We will defend it!”

  We pulled in the anchors and sculled the drekar back to the shore. We tied her up and then donned helmets and held shields. We would use the two bows we had but the other three would use swords. We had fought the Danes once and won. We would do so again.

  We raced up the slope. The sounds of battle were growing louder. When we reached the top of the bank, we saw that the Danes had a wedge and my father had filled the empty gateway with his best warriors. Four of them had mail. The bodies which lay before us was testament to the accuracy of the arrows and stones the clan had already used. The two lines had clashed. I saw that the Danes’ leader, Halfdan Ivarsson, was not in the front rank. He had to be the warrior in the centre with the good helmet and fine mail byrnie.

  We had to step over bodies. There were also wounded men. Mercilessly we slew them as we passed them. Then we were just twenty paces from the rear rank of the wedge. We were a pathetically small threat. There were five youths and ahead of us were men who had fought battles such as this many times but we did not flinch. Olaf and Leif sent their arrows into the backs of two warriors and even as they slipped and fell to their deaths another two were struck. The other six in the rear rank turned and tried to bring their shields around. In that heartbeat of a moment Leif and Olaf sent their last two arrows into their faces. Five of us faced four men but their age and experience did not daunt us. We rushed at them. I ran with Siggi at the warrior in the centre. His eyes flickered from Siggi to me and that was his mistake. He should have chosen one of us to strike but the hesitation gave us the chance. I struck his shield with my sword. I put all of my anger into it and he reeled. Siggi surprised him with a backhand stroke and it drove the Dane’s own sword towards his face. He stepped back and I brought my sword towards his head. His shield blocked it but Siggi rammed his sword into the Dane’s middle. He twisted the blade as he did so. The Dane fell writhing to the ground trying to hold in the nest of bloody snakes Siggi had unleashed.

  I heard a shout from my right. The Dane fighting Arne had hit his shield so hard that the leather strap had broken. The Dane raised his sword to kill my brother and I lunged at his thigh. The blade scraped off the bone and passed through. Arne needed no bidding. He took his sword in two hands and swung it across the Dane’s neck. He half severed it and the huge warrior fell to the ground.

  “Shield wall!” A Danish voice, I assumed the jarl, commanded and they stepped back as one. The Danes had made a circle of shields. Our sudden attack had unnerved them. Leif and Olaf had managed to kill their enemies although Leif’s leg was bleeding. An eerie silence descended.

  I saw my father step forward and shout, “Halfdan Ivarsson, enough of your men have died. Come from behind your warriors and face me, Lars Larsson, man to man.”

  The Dane might have refused but his men stepped aside so that the two faced each other. The Dane had not fought. The Danish axe he held was not dulled by combat. Save for holding his shield above his head to protect himself from arrows he was fresh. My father was fighting to claw a toehold on this land. His shield and byrnie were spattered with blood. His helmet had a dent from a recent blow.

  We did not sheathe our swords. If my father lost then we would fight on regardless. I was already eyeing the young Dane that I would fight. The young warrior was less than four paces from the place where the two would fight and I was two places to his left. Arne was next to me. We might yet have to fight. Our deaths might be necessary to save the clan.

  The Dane suddenly launched himself at my father and his axe struck the shield so hard that my father recoiled. The Dane took encouragement and punched with his shield. It caught my father’s hand. The Danish axe came below my fat
her’s shield and although my father danced away the tip of the axe tore through his breeks and I saw blood. The axe had a sharp edge and the wound would be deep. The watching Danes cheered and banged their shields. The women in the palisade wailed.

  The wound seemed to spur on my father. Anticipating that the Dane would come again with his axe my father spun around on his good leg. The war axe came down on empty air and my father swung his sword to hack into the back of the mail of the Dane. The mail held and the padded kyrtle limited the effect of the blow but Halfdan Ivarsson was hurt. Perhaps my father had damaged bones beneath the skin. His back arced and with blood dripping down his left leg my father hacked at the Dane’s knee. Unprotected, my father’s sword tore through the breeks and flesh. When blood spurted then honours were even. Both were wounded. They stepped away from each other. The fight had taken much out of both of them already. Each blow which was struck was intended to kill.

  When the next axe strike came Halfdan Ivarsson reverted to his original attack. He hacked at my father’s shield and this time, to my horror, the axe hacked through the two layers of board and into my father’s arm. There was nothing to stop the axe head from slicing through. The flesh was torn and blood spurted. Even though he was hurt my father still managed to punch with the boss of the shield. He caught the Dane full on the face. The nasal on the Danish helmet merely drove into the nose. It broke and the Dane stepped back, roaring. My father threw the boss at him and drew his seax. I was not sure that he would be able to hold the weapon. His arm hung down. It looked to be sheer willpower. I saw Snorri looking anxiously at his brother. This was not going well.

  Neither man had much mobility. They both had seal skin boots which were filling with blood. The Dane shook his head like a dog and then lurched toward my father, swinging his axe. My father did the only thing that he could. He stepped closer to the Dane. He held his dagger up to block the blow. The dagger had no tip. It was a Saxon seax but it was a long one. Even as the axe came down the seax’s edge tore across the back of the Dane’s hand. The seax was sharp and intended for tearing. Even though my father was losing strength in the hand the blade still ripped tendon, muscle and bone. The axe head caught the wound the Dane had already inflicted. The seax dropped to the ground. My father’s left arm hung uselessly at his side. At the same moment the axe fell from Danish fingers which could no longer grip. My father rammed the tip of his sword up under the chin of the Dane. It came up through the skull and out of the back. The helmet fell and rolled. The shield dropped from lifeless fingers and, as the Dane fell, the body slipped from the sword.