Will gritted his teeth. You still don’t think I will ever be strong or good enough to be a Shield, do you? He straightened up. 'We should be quiet – listen for danger.'
Rowenna paused but, as always, wanted the last word. 'There’s nothing out here – the Picts have all passed through. Father is only doing this to allow the would-be heroes to cool their blood.’
Will stayed quiet, but Rowenna was on a mission now. However, she did lower her voice.
‘I know Shields think they are the only warriors that win battles and it’s true, they are the best at taking the most hits to the head. But look at your master – he’s invaluable the way he swings that huge axe of his to protect us. Other weapons, other tactics need to be given a chance. I've seen you practising with the wooden swords – you're really fast and well balanced. With a bit of re-training you would be deadly with a lighter sword and maybe a smaller shield.'
Will glanced down and shook his head. Heavy sword, fighting spear and large shield – that’s what he needed for the First Line.
Rowenna carried on. 'And maybe even better than the long blade, are these,' she said, tapping the twin Romani short swords hanging from her hips. ‘They’re superb in tight spaces, just what a huscarl needs in a tight corridor…’ She stopped herself. ‘Umm, if that’s what you were thinking of aiming for, I mean—'
'Do you hear that?' Will cut in. 'Shouting – like a child's voice?'
Brant gave a warning whistle and pushed Will and Rowenna forward. The two of them were immediately enveloped by the warriors in front who were already forming up as the tailing Shields rushed passed Brant to join them. In seconds, Will and Rowenna stood in the small empty centre of a tight shield circle, fifteen men around and two deep.
Javelins, fairly useless in the dark, were thrust in the grass all around the two of them like some giant hedgehog. At just a word from Godric, the Front Line interlocked their heavy, round shields and both rows raised their thick, fighting spears ready to stab over their shields. Most of the torches had been rammed into the ground outside the shield circle but two burned in the centre, the wind driving smoke in and then out of Will and Rowenna’s eyes.
Will looked back at the fort. The gates stood open - a safe haven. A pity it was half a mile away. What now?
The warriors fell silent, all trying to see out past the flickering torchlight into the shadows of the heathland and the deeper dark of the trees beyond.
'Wait, Angalsax… friends here.' A young voice, thick Pictish accent and ghostly on the wind.
‘North-west,' Brant said, calmly. He had kept out of the shield wall and had his back to the ring of torchlight.
Will still couldn't see anything between the warriors but the voice came through the night loud and clear.
'Hey, Angalsax, help us.' Definitely a child, breathless now and getting closer.
‘Eyes everywhere,' Godric ordered quietly, 'this could be a diversion.'
Will glanced back at the fort. No one was coming out through the gates to help them. The plan was for the king to draw any pursuit into the fort after them, where Cenhelm’s Shields would destroy them.
And in any case, the elite Shields all around him would rather die a horrible and bloody death than call for help.
Will shut one eye and clasped his hands together in front of the other one, making a tunnel through the curled fingers. It was a trick that Bridget had taught him a long time ago – it shut out the glare of bright lights.
His night-sight immediately kicked in.
'I see them,' Will said to Rowenna, standing on tiptoe to peer over the Shields’ shoulders. 'A boy and a smaller girl, running, holding hands.'
'Two children, running for us, fifty yards out,’ Brant reported. ‘Seax each.’ He was scanning slowly all around but being careful not to look towards the torches. He swung his huge axe slowly around his head, rippling his shoulders and back, warming up his muscles.
No one moved. A few more seconds passed then Brant said, ‘Sling on the taller one.’
As one, the warriors hefted their shields up to just below their eyes and crouched a little lower.
'Walk.' Brant shouted into the wind.
Two children stumbled into the furthest edges of the firelight. ‘Run inside… walls… quick!' the boy shouted between gasps of air.
‘Stop, now' Brant growled. He hefted his massive axe ready in one hand and stepped towards them.
The girl stopped dead, her eyes wide and staring and the towering Skandian and his massive blade rippling with torchlight. She tugged the boy to a halt.
Brant pointed back towards the ring of light flickering in front of the shields and spears. ‘Into the light - walk.' Then he returned to his scanning.
The two figures looked at each other then walked hesitantly into the brighter light. Their eyes darted back and forth across the massive warriors staring at them over the tops of their shields. The boy was thin, maybe ten or eleven, with the typically pale skin and wild red hair of the Picts. The girl was perhaps seven with the same look. Both of them were filthy, their clothes caked with mud and ripped in places. They looked like they were about to drop to their knees.
The boy manoeuvred the girl behind him then pointed at the fort with his free hand. 'Inside walls, now. They hide in forest, watch this space.'
Suddenly the shield wall rippled as Osbert straightened up and lowered his shield. ‘Enough of this hogwash. Look at us cowering in front of Pictish brats. Feed them to the wolves like their kin did to decent Angalsax children.'
'Hold your position, Osbert,' Godric snapped, 'we don't know…'
'Something's coming – fast,' Brant suddenly shouted from beyond the torches.
‘Go to walls,’ the boy said, pulling at his sister. She dug her heels in, staring at the heavily armed grown-ups imploringly.
‘What’s coming?’ Godric demanded.
'They here. Run!' the Pict boy shouted back, yanking his sister harder and yelling something at her in Pictish. Her feet started to slide over the grass.
'Let the children through to me,' Rowenna ordered.
The wall stayed closed. The little girl began to whimper, choking back tears and tugging at the boy's hand, trying to pull him back towards the shields.
'Father, for pity's sake!' Rowenna shouted. No one moved.
Godric ignored her. ‘Boy,’ he yelled, ‘what’s out there?’
The boy turned to him, eyes staring madly, and opened his mouth to speak.
Chapter 7
A Fury of Teeth and Claws
‘Wolves,' Brant called. 'Forty yards - all around. Thunor’s hammer - they’re the size of ponies.'
Oh gods! Will’s mind flashed back to the massive furry ear on the axe head, the shredded leavings… the child’s shoes. ‘We’ve got to get them inside,’ he hissed.
Rowenna’s voice hardened. 'We need them, father - they can tell us what happened here, what might attack Yeavering.'
The boy let the girl tug him up to the solid shield wall. They dropped to their knees to try to crawl underneath the shields, but a hard kick sent them both sprawling back into the open.
'Father!' Rowenna shouted again.
'Pull them in,' Godric ordered.
Cursing, two warriors pulled their shields apart, grabbed the children and threw them into the middle to crash into Will.
The shields slammed back together just as something huge streaked into the firelight. A fury of dagger-long teeth and iron-hard claws crashed into the shields with a guttural roar. Men staggered backwards into those behind, buffeting hard into Wil and Rowenna, but the shields stayed locked and the creature bounced away.
'Vargs,' the girl shouted, speaking for the first time, 'they are vargs, not wolves.'
Will and Rowenna glanced at each other. Vargs only existed in myths.
They had no time to think. An instant later, more of the creatures leapt and hurtled into the shields. Massive claws scraped at the top rims, pulling them lower and teeth snapped at the f
aces behind.
Two of the front line were pulled down in seconds, screams and snarls mixed in blood-gurgling death. Men thrust forward to close the gap but one of the beasts scrabbled up a shield and launched itself off the top rim with its mighty back legs.
The little Pict girl screamed, long and shrill.
Two second row warriors caught the wolf on their shields, but Will was suddenly face to face with two burning red eyes as a muzzle snapped madly at him. Blood and hot saliva splattered across his face as the crazed creature strained to reach him, clawing shoulders and shields as it struggled for balance.
Three things happened: Will snatched up a torch and thrust it into the beast's mouth; the Pict boy jumped up and drove his seax down through one huge paw and into a shield and Rowenna's twin Romani blades licked out passed Will's ears and buried themselves deep between the wolf's scrabbling forelegs.
The beast went rigid then collapsed and the Shields heaved it away, ripping the boy’s dagger off him as it fell.
Gods, that was close! Will had a second’s relief as he watched the dead varg fall between the front ranks, then the screams and roars and crashes of the attack hit him again.
Men's backs bashed into Will and Rowenna as the formation’s edges buckled inwards. A dozen of the huge wolves were leaping at the Shields from every direction, but they were pushed back and stabbed at as the second line found their feet and leant into the Firsts. Battle cries roared out and the hardened warriors slashed swords and jabbed spears at the beasts darting around in the smoking firelight and leaping at them again and again from all sides.
We can’t hold against this many – they can jump too high. Will thrust his spear into the earth and snatched the second torch to give the Shields more light. Small fragments of burning rag dropped onto his bare arms as rock-hard, sweating backs buffeted against him. He stumbled over blood, mud and the trampled leavings of the dead Angalsax as he tried desperately to see between the jostling, tightly packed warriors. He managed to catch a glimpse of Brant. His master was close to the shield wall now and swinging his axe in a blur of deadly circles to keep two beasts at bay whilst trying to slash at the backs of others attacking the Shields. How long could he keep it up?
A howl, high and haunting, rose up above the grunts and snarls all around them.
'They call for more,' the Pict boy cried out. The girl clung to him with one hand but the other gripped a small seax. She didn’t cry or whimper. Both their faces were masks of fierce determination.
‘Hold the wall,' yelled Godric, his voice booming over the fighting. ‘Left wheel then close order back to the fort on my count. Ready… one – two; one - two.'
Drilled endlessly in every conceivable battle manoeuvre, King Godric's elite warriors wheeled around to put Godric and Osbert facing the fort and started to march steadily back towards the fort with small steps. They flattened down the pincushion of javelins and kept their shields overlapped whilst stabbing spears and swinging blades as the vargs howled and flew at them even more madly.
Will passed one torch to the Pict boy and grabbed his spear as they started to move. He felt helpless as another warrior was dragged out of the wall and torn apart in seconds.
Shouts of encouragement, fragmented by wind and battle, reached him from the fort. Finally, the warbands had realised the plan needed changing. Cenhelm’s Shields came running over the bridge and fell into a line. They were stretching out to form a corridor, opening out towards them like a mother’s arms.
But they were still at least two hundred yards away.
Suddenly, three wolves leapt on the front of the wall at the same time. The formation shuddered to a halt and the leading men staggered back. Godric was knocked to the ground and the First next to him was thrust right back, crashing through the Seconds and into Will and Rowenna. A huge varg followed him through and ripped out his throat in a single bite.
Even as the man died and his body swirled away into black specs, the veteran Seconds speared the varg from all angles.
But there was a gap in the line.
Without thinking, Will snatched up a fallen shield and leapt over the dying varg to plug the gap. Just feet in front of him, two huscarls were fighting off a frenzied varg whilst a third man was hauling the king to his feet and back into line.
'Close shields,' Osbert’s mighty voice shouted from somewhere to Will’s left.
Gods, I’m in the front-line
The thought screamed through Will’s mind as shields and shoulders slammed together again, nearly crushing him. Two vargs hurtled around from the side and veered in to leap at the front. Will braced his feet and heaved the heavy shield up to take the blow, trying to level his spear. His whole world filled with two blazing red eyes over a frenzied, snapping mass of teeth, scrabbling claws and black fur as the Varg flew at him.
His spear stabbed through thin air and what felt like a house smashed into his shield and drove him backwards. He crashed through the warriors behind and tumbled onto his back. His shield hammered down onto his chest with the varg still on top.
For a split second, the red eyes focussed on his and the mouth opened as wide as his face.
Then spears and swords swung down and the varg leapt away – straight for Rowenna.
Will dropped his spear and shot out his free hand to grab one rear leg as it flew past his face.
He screamed as his arm was nearly pulled from his shoulder, but he clamped his fingers into the fur and flesh as if his life depended on it.
His vision seemed to fail with the pain, blurring into a black mist as he stared at his fingers, willing them to stay clamped shut. He gripped so tightly the blood must have left them and freezing cold flared through his whole arm.
It was enough.
The varg was tugged back. It scrambled in the dirt, its other rear leg raking Will’s shoulder as it twisted around trying to savage his arm. Half a dozen spears and sword blades stabbed down, and it died with its open jaws inches from Will’s forearm.
‘Stay out of the lines,’ someone shouted at him and snatched the shield from his arm.
The formation started to shift around him, moving forward. Heavy feet, marching backwards tramped towards his head.
Winded, Will tried to roll to his side and get up but both his arms seemed as weak as a baby’s.
Two hands slipped under his shoulders and hauled him to his feet and pulled him forward just as the back of the formation would have walked over him.
‘Walk, Will, just walk,’ Rowenna shouted over the snarls and screams of battle.
‘Thanks,’ Will gasped. Feeling was slowly returning to his arms and warm blood to his hand.
They stumbled along, trying to keep clear of the warriors’ feet, backs and arms as they fought off the never-ending attacks. The formation had shrunk, leaving just a few feet of empty space in its centre for them and the Pict children.
'The vargs know what we're doing,' Rowenna shouted, 'they're trying to stop us from reaching the fort.'
The wolves' howling grew louder.
This time they were answered from somewhere close in the forest.
'We must run,' the Pict boy shouted above the snarls, screams and screeches of claws on steel, 'big pack comes.' He had managed to snatch up the fallen warrior's long seax.
'We can't,' Will shouted, staring between the heaving backs at the castle walls. They hardly seemed any closer, 'the vargs would be on us in seconds.'
Will caught sight of Brant again, slashed and bloody and trying to clear a path through the pack whilst defending himself in a glistening arc of swinging steel.
But he was getting slower.
'Forward, double time,' Godric shouted, '– one, two.' The king was up and back in the front line again, his helmet torn from his head and his blonde hair matted with blood. Osbert was next to him now. The man was unstoppable, his right sword relentlessly hacking down as he bashed varg after varg away with his shield.
All the front line had switched to swords. Their
heavy blades, working in unison, began to cleave a path through varg flesh and bone.
Slowly, the circle gained momentum towards the fort again.
The beasts snarled and barked in fury and redoubled their attacks.
But these were the best men in Godric's warband and they were fighting in their strongest formation. They roared back at the beasts even as the wolves’ back legs raked their shields and front claws and mouths scrabbled to render flesh and bone inches from their faces.
Godric counted faster and faster they built up speed, bashing the wolves away with renewed hope. The night suddenly became brighter with new torchlight and the first of Cenhelm’s warriors slipped into view to either side as Godric led them into the corridor of steel.
The vargs’ snarls changed pitch. They were being trapped, attacked from all sides as they were forced into a narrowing wedge of thrusting spears, slashing swords, bashing shields and burning fire.
A high pitched "yipping" sounded, and the remaining creatures turned and fled out of the death trap.
A ragged cheer started up then quickly spread across the bridge and along the wall top. Warriors hooted and banged their shields.
Will joined in warily, lifting his aching arms high, grateful that they were starting to work again.
I’ll waste my breath when I’m actually inside the gates.
A blinding light fanned out from the top of the barbican which was still fifty steps away. Another, slightly less powerful light shot forth from the fort wall and together they lit up the grass plains to the nearest trees as brightly as pre-dawn sunlight.
The victory shouts died in every throat.
Fifty or more of the huge wolves burst out of the trees in a baying pack. The beasts that had been driven off skidded to a halt and scrabbled around to lead the hunt back towards the fort.
‘Everyone inside the gates,' Godric shouted, ‘double-time.’
Immediately, the human corridor started to funnel back across the bridge and the shield square broke into a jog.
Divided We Fall Page 5