The great army was waking, roaring like a beast of war. The land shuddered with the furious shouts.
At the fore of the army stood Sigfrid's forces, and his white standard of a boar's head with bloody tusks flew over scores of warriors in glinting mail. Hrolf's forces were anchored to the river bank, and would support a direct assault. His red banner embroidered with a golden dragon bobbed as he drove his ranks of men to join Ulfrik's position. Gunther followed with his men on Hrolf's left flank.
Lumbering ahead through the crisp, clear morning air went Sigfrid's war machines and their crews. Settling into positions along the banks, the massive wooden arms cocked back as their crews worked heavy cranks. Ulfrik strained to see the workers, who had been busy throughout the night moving and arming the giants. He heard wood groan as boulders were loaded into the slings of the machines.
"A few good hits and the tower will fall." Mord, who Ulfrik had placed in his block, waved dismissively at the fat tower in the distance.
Snorri spit on the ground, then grunted. "They'll have to hit the tower to do that. Not sure these things will."
Ulfrik reserved his opinion, studying the pantomime of the siege engineers. Men from the distant south with olive skin and brown eyes commanded these machines, and if the rumors were true, demanded a jarl's take of the spoils for their knowledge. He held his breath in anticipation. The war machines, dark against the morning sun, dipped back and quivered.
Silence swept out over the horde of Danes. A thin and lonely voice shouted. Then the great arms released.
The explosive violence of the machines made Ulfrik twitch in surprise. The sound reminded him of the grating, rocky crash of a collapsing iceberg. The arms struck bars with deep thuds and the slings lobbed rocks over incredible distances.
The boulders aimed at the tower missed, falling short or sailing past. The defenders jeered, their voices faint and weak. The boulders aimed at the city fared better. Many plopped into the river with enormous splashes, but others sailed over the walls to careen into the building beyond. One boulder hit the wall and exploded in a cloud of dust and stone fragments.
"Ranging shots. It will be better this time," Hrolf called down the front of his line. Ulfrik realized Hrolf positioned himself only ten files down from his own. He had no time to relish the honor the proximity gave him, for the next volley of stones released.
Boulders hurtled and tumbled through the air, and one crashed into the tower. The hit exploded into a bloom of rock dust. Ulfrik found himself stepping forward to cheer. All of the Danish army joined him. Men on land and on the water banged their shields and screamed victory, as if the single rock had destroyed all of Paris. As the glittering dust poured to the ground, the point of impact showed. The tower wall had been cratered, but little more.
The machines fired in alternating ranks, so a steady flight of boulders streaked through the air. Ulfrik laughed at the ease with which the machines flung rocks that took four men to lift. It was like watching giants at play. The Danes did not cease in their cheering and shouting. Ulfrik and his men added to the din, delighting in the massive wave of noise they shot at the Franks.
The last machine slammed forward and ejected its boulder, which skimmed the stone bridge and bit off a section of its guarding walls. Then silence and stillness descended, like the passing of a furious storm. A horn blew three times from the lead ship on the river. Oars extended and dipped into the water, and the fleet was on the move.
"Ready yourselves," Ulfrik called to his men. "The ships will cover our approach with bow fire, so the order to attack is coming."
Ulfrik looked to Mord, whose eyes were wide with childlike amazement. Then he turned to Snorri, who simply nodded his grim determination. Others in his block included Thrand, Ander, and several other of his trusted crew. Toki led the other block, along with Einar. None of them had stormed a wall before. None of them knew what waited at the tower. Yet all of them trusted and protected each other. All of them were brothers in war, and their lives were bound together. Ulfrik swallowed hard, knowing many of them would die. He could only pray death would come swiftly for those so fated.
Sigfrid's banner waved, and the deep bass note of his horn sounded.
"Pick up your ladders and move!" Ulfrik shouted the command and grabbed a rung of the ladder. Despite its size, it felt weightless as he lifted it along with the others. Rough wood bit his sweating palms. He looped his right arm into his shield and joined the march.
After the first dozen yards, Ulfrik began to jog to keep pace with the line converging on the tower. Then the jog increased to a run. Men shouted, and the tower drew ever closer, higher than anything he had ever seen. Solid as a mountain. Still as forest glade.
He bellowed, an animal shout from the pit of his gut. He released his fear and fury, spilling it to the tower, and his spirit rose. His men added their voices to his. Their feet thumped into the soft earth, shaking the ground with the thousands of others pounding for the tower.
The sound of a linen sheet tearing came from the right flank and a shadow passed over him. Arrows fired from the ships choking the river. More arrows than Ulfrik could conceive being shot at once. A black cloud of death arcing to the tower.
"We're almost there." His breath was labored, his heart pounded. The fat gray stones of the tower drew up before him. "Get your shields up. Don't wait."
Arrows clattered down the sides of the walls, missing their marks and piling at the foot of the tower. Sigfrid's line was already setting up their ladders while Knut led his force to sweep to the north face of the tower and still nothing from the defenders.
Another black wave of arrows screamed overhead, and Ulfrik pulled his shield up from reflex.
"They're going to surrender!" Mord screeched triumphantly. "They're afraid to fight!"
Distant but clear notes of a horn sounded.
"Shield wall!"
The Franks answered the call to battle, leaping to the battlements with bows ready. Their arrows sliced down into the rich field of enemy targets. Ulfrik spotted a column of men stutter and collapse as white-fletched arrows fell among them, then he ducked behind his shield.
Their run slowed to a jog. Arrows stitched the earth around Ulfrik's feet, then a few thumped his shield. He further slowed his run, but those behind crashed into him.
"We don't want to be the first. Let others take the brunt of the defense."
"What? We should be first in glory!" Mord pulled at the ladder in protest, huddling in the darkness of the shield wall.
"I lead to win and to live. Do as I say." Ulfrik peeked out from his shield to see Toki had mimicked his pace. Whatever his faults, Ulfrik could always depend on Toki to be smart in battle.
"That was the brunt," Mord continued. "Let's not miss the fight."
The Franks answered for Ulfrik. Arrows clattered on their shields like hail. Their pace became as men in a blizzard. They pulled their shields tight, and the arrows streamed without end. Bodkins pierced the wood. One popped through a thumb's width from Ulfrik's face. The tip lodged in the cheek plate of his helmet.
The sound of arrows hissing and screaming back and forth overhead was unearthly, like a windstorm from the cold plains of Nifleheim. His mouth had become so dry he feared his tongue would split. Screams of dying and wounded men encircled them. He knew they were at the final approach to the tower by the number of corpses they had to dance over. Under the shield wall smelled like ale and urine. Someone retched on himself, and further fouled the air.
"We're here! Run the ladder up. Hurry!"
Ulfrik forgot every instruction on using the ladder. The moment the shield wall parted, he looked skyward to a wall that must reach the clouds. Hundreds of battles had not prepared him for this.
An arrow clipped his helmet with enough force to knock it over his face. Shoving it back, he roared again, and pulled the ladder forward. "Keep the angle shallow! Move!"
Ladders were already placed and men were clambering toward the defenders atop
the tower. Some had placed their ladders too steep, and the defenders waited for men to get halfway up before shoving the ladders back with long poles. He watched one shove away, balance vertically as men screamed, then collapse back into the crowd. Howls of agony combined with the thud and crunch of the bodies slamming into the ground.
Holding his shield overhead, he guided the ladder with one hand. Two of his men came forward with support beams to brace it. Before he could order them, one spun away with an arrow shaft through his eye. He collapsed atop the beam just as the ladder came to rest.
"Get up as fast as you can!" Ulfrik grabbed Mord by his mail sleeve and all but threw him on the ladder. "The more men on it, the harder for them to push it back. Go!"
He scurried to retrieve the brace. He refused to look at his man's face as he twitched in the grass. Instead, he grabbed the man's hand and forced it from gripping the arrow shaft and onto his sword hilt. At least he would go to Valhalla. As the body slumped in death, Ulfrik struggled to roll it aside, but holding his arrow-studded shield overhead made the work twice as hard. Glancing to check Mord's progress, he was not far along and the ladder already tilted to the unbraced side.
Dumping his shield, he took both hands to roll the corpse aside. The sky darkened, and he looked up to find Snorri holding a shield over him.
"You'll get yourself killed, you old fool!"
"Hurry up," was all Snorri said, and huddled closer to Ulfrik while trying to cover both of them with his shield.
Ulfrik shook his head and dragged the dead man off the beam. Despite the weight of his mail coat, he flopped aside like a child's doll. Ulfrik's arms trembled with fighting rage, and anger at his own fear. He scooped up the heavy timber beam and dragged it to the ladder. Wedging it in place with Snorri's aid, the ladder straightened. Mord continued his climb, awkwardly trying to hold his shield before the pelting arrows. Men lined behind him, moving at a steady crawl.
Retrieving his own shield, he surveyed the field. Toki was leading his ladder, and nearly traversed half the distance to the top. To his left, Hrolf strode from ladder to ladder, shouting encouragement and threats. His shield bristled with arrows, but his sword was drawn and pointing to the top. Ulfrik's gaze followed it up.
Arrows slid down the walls; missed shots from the ranks of Danish archers. Dust and debris washed down the sides, combining with the broken arrows to form a waterfall of shattered junk. Helmets plummeted, lost weapons clanged against the stone as they fell. Worst of all, men tumbled from the walls shrieking and wailing through the long fall.
His shield seemed to rise on its own, then he realized Snorri had pushed it up for him.
"Stop gawking and let's move!"
Turning to follow Snorri, he heard screaming drawing closer. Looking up, a Dane clutching a Frank plunged out of the sky. He had seen death and gore, good men hacked to bits and charred bones buried under rubble. Nothing compared to the two men slamming into the earth. They exploded into a pink mist, bones piercing through flattened bodies. The sound was horrid, like a barrel of ale shattering. Nothing was left to define the two men beyond a mush of flesh and blood and fragmented bone.
The whole world seemed to be screaming as he gagged and staggered after Snorri. His mail hauberk tugged from behind, and he felt a line of searing pain at the back of his arm. An arrow had caught in his mail, cutting him. Snarling, he joined Snorri at the foot of the ladder, behind the last men of his block.
Screams to the right and he whirled toward the sound, knowing what he would see.
Toki's ladder had been shoved away from the wall. They had set the angle too shallow, and the bracers had been hastily set. Rather than push back, the Franks shoved the ladder down. The effect was the same.
He watched in horror as twenty of his men collapsed straight down half the height of the tower. Arrows chased them to the ground, seeking the unprotected bodies. Many sank into flesh, quivering from the pile of victims.
Grabbing Snorri by the collar of his mail, Ulfrik dashed toward the wreck. Despite the crashing noise enveloping him, their moans were like thunder in his ears. Bodies moved, likely those toward the end of the ladder. Two men were already rushing to the fallen, looking into their faces.
A rock thumped into the ground a hand's breadth before him. It had nearly buried itself in the ground, such was the force. Ulfrik pulled up short, Snorri crashing into him, and looked up. Silhouettes of men hefting large objects overhead lined the tower top. They flung their loads down on the Danes.
"They're going to crush us with rocks!" Snorri yelled in his ear, his old voice cracking.
"Help me find Toki."
Dancing amid falling rocks and the rain of arrows, he reached the line. His shield weighed heavy from the scores of arrow shafts embedded in it. A rock clipped the edge and flipped the shield around. Flinging it to the side, he began searching faces. Bloodied men looked skyward, many with dull eyes full of death. Ander mumbled and blinked, but his eyes were unfocused and blood flowed from his ear. Scuttling to the front where Toki had led, he saw Thrand leaning over a man.
His shield was slung across his back, and he held and arrow in a white-knuckled grip. His face was sprayed with blood. Seeing Ulfrik, he recoiled.
"Toki is alive," Thrand said, barely audible over the noise.
His heart pounding, Ulfrik forgot his safety and rushed to Toki's side. He had lost his helmet but seemed unhurt.
"Toki, can you hear me? I'm getting us out of this mess. Snorri!"
He cupped Toki's head, and glared at Snorri to move faster. He came with Kolbyr, another survivor of the crashed ladder. Toki's grip was firm on his arm.
"We can't lie here, or arrows will slay us." To emphasize his words, a stone crashed down an arm's length distant while more arrows drizzled after it. "I think my leg is broken, but I survived. The gods love me after all."
Toki chuckled, and Ulfrik laid his head down. Snorri arrived beside him.
"Get him off the field, and take whoever else you can. I'm calling a retreat."
He did not wait, but sprinted to his other ladder, where Mord was stalled two-thirds up. The ladder was well-set and the hooks arrayed against it could not prevail. The Franks, however, had decided to shoot straight down the ladder. Mord and the men near him had formed a pitiful shield wall against the assault. One man hung dead on the ladder, his blood running like a tap. Ulfrik dashed up the rungs, easily reaching the rear man.
"We're retreating. Take whoever you can carry and go. Send word up to Mord."
The man thumped Ulfrik's helmet in acknowledgment, and pulled the hauberk of the man above him. Ulfrik scrabbled down the ladder, noting Snorri retreating with Toki limping beside him. Other survivors fled past them.
Satisfied he could save enough of his men from the madness of taking the tower with ladders, he started to run. The Danes were in full retreat and scattering everywhere. He saw Gunther One-Eye, his wolf pelt pierced with arrows, charging away with his arrow-pierced standard dragging behind. He searched for Hrolf, and found the giant man easily.
Standing at the foot of his ladder, he shouted curses at the Franks. His men filed down the ladder, slipping away into the mass of fleeing Danes. Hrolf, however, held up his sword in challenge.
A rock the size of a fist clanged off his helmet, denting it and pounding him to his knees. One look up and Ulfrik spotted a cluster of dark shapes reaching their bows over the battlements.
Hrolf lay sprawled faceup when Ulfrik reached his side. Instinctively, he threw himself over Hrolf. Two arrows struck his back, but failed to penetrate the mail. Still, the blows reverberated deep into his body. Another arrow tore his shoulder and a fourth deflected off his helmet.
"Lord Hrolf, stand up and flee. We are finished here."
Blood seeped from Hrolf's nose and Ulfrik read the confusion in his unfocused eyes. Wasting no time for the archers to take a second shot, he hauled Hrolf upright. Another rock landed in the grass where his head had been moments ago.
"Y
ou again?" Hrolf mumbled, as he staggered to his feet.
"Faster, lord. The Franks are running out of targets."
The arrows stopped falling and cheers now flowed from the tower rather than missiles. Glancing back as he aided a wobbly Hrolf from the battlefield, he saw men holding bows overhead and one man standing in their midst holding aloft a staff topped with the cross of the new god.
"We had them," Hrolf said, his voice slurred. "Just another moment was all we needed."
Ulfrik made no reply. His body burned with every motion. The Franks began to chant in victory, and Ulfrik bit his lip as he fled the defeat and carnage that lay thick at the base of the tower.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Runa entered the hall, two baskets of wool in each arm for the girls working the looms. Two other women tended chores, one of whom was Elin. Seeing Runa enter, she put down the bellows she had been using on the hearth and rushed to help. The cold still clung to Runa's robes, and her face immediately warmed as she met Elin halfway. Relieving one basket from her, she drew close and spoke in a low voice.
"He's awake now, but is still resting. He has been asking for the Valkyrie who saved him." Runa thought Elin's smile was almost chiding.
Stopping and handing the other basket to Elin, she wiped her hands on her legs. She touched the sax at her lap, barely aware it calmed her. "So he's making sense now. Let me check him. Where's Gunnar?"
"Collecting branches for the fire." Elin paused, her face growing red. "He is harmless, lady Runa?" Elin's question stopped the three other women at their chores, and their eyes gathered on her. Runa shrugged.
"No man is harmless, but he is weak." The girls at the loom stole worried glances at each other, and Runa waved her hands at them. "Do not fret. He spoke gratefully enough when we rescued him."
Patting Elin's arm, she then checked Thora and Hakon, who both enjoyed a game of catch with a ball of wool. Hakon smiled at the sight of his mother's return, and she held him briefly before deciding to address the stranger. "You want to play longer? Here, back to Thora you go."
Banners of the Northmen Page 12