Birth of the Kingdom

by Jan Guillou

  Naturally that was too much for the Danes, who immediately launched an attack with lowered lances and the snow spraying out from the front hooves of their heavy horses. Almost indolently the sixteen Folkungs and Arn turned their horses and headed for the nearest grove of trees with their pursuers only a few lance-lengths behind, a distance they were careful to maintain.

  From the Danish army loud, triumphant laughter arose as the soldiers saw what a sorry spectacle the enemy made, chased away into the woods.

  But not a single Danish rider returned, because among the trees they had encountered three squadrons of light riders who approached at close range and then shot their arrows, finishing off any survivors with their swords.

  This sort of cunning wouldn’t work on a second attempt since the Danes didn’t dare pursue the chase after the taunting and fleeing enemy. But by now the Danish army had already been delayed because of the loss of some of their heavy riders, since such horsemen were often high-born men and they had to be tended to after death, unlike the bodies of ordinary foot-soldiers. The Danes were now hungry for revenge, of course, but since they were travelling with riders in the vanguard because of the deep snow, they had no foot-soldiers up front with bows. And their horses could not keep up with the lighter and faster steeds of the Forsvikers.

  The next day Arn rode close to the head of the Danish army with all sixty-four of his men. He had chosen a spot where the landscape opened up just beyond two high hills, and there was an expansive view in all directions, so the Danes wouldn’t suspect an ambush.

  The Forsvikers quietly approached, moving in so close that they were certain of being able to strike home with their arrows. But this time they aimed not at the iron-clad horsemen or their shields but at their horses. Every horse that was hit was as good as dead, and that meant a horseman on foot, especially if the arrow struck the horse’s belly. The heavy snowfall had prompted the Danes to ride without chain mail for their horses.

  Once again the Forsvikers’ attack enraged the Danes, who lined up a hundred horsemen with lances to stage a counterattack.

  The Forsvikers now seemed to be frightened and hesitant, and they turned around to flee; with that, the Danish riders attacked at once. And so they rode out into the snow, getting farther and farther away from the rest of the Danish army until the heavy pursuers began to falter, having used up most of their strength and that of their horses. Then Arn suddenly turned his fleeing forces and divided them into two groups, which surrounded the Danish riders and went on the attack, using arrows that pierced right through the chain mail. They managed to kill most of the horsemen, or to cause terrible wounds with their swords before they once again had to flee from the reinforcements sent by the army. But this time they didn’t succeed in enticing their pursuers to their deaths.

  A thaw set in, and the soft, knee-high snow was like a blessing for the Forsvikers but a curse for the Danish cavalry.

  Over the following days the enemy grew more discriminating when it came to making a sortie against the Forsviker forces. Not much was accomplished by either side, but according to Arn, that was the whole intention.

  The Danes stopped for a short time in Skara but did not carry out extensive plundering before they moved on towards the southeast. They didn’t even bother to besiege the fortress of Axevalla. That was an important piece of information; they truly were headed for Lake Vättern and Näs. Along the way stood the castle of Lena. Despite his grumbling over the expense, Birger Brosa had indeed followed Arn’s advice to have it fortified. The Danes would either take the castle or besiege it in order to secure the route to Näs. So the real battle would take place in the vicinity of Lena. There they would gather to see if it was possible to set a trap for the entire Danish army. Arn sent off four riders with messages for Arnäs and Bjälbo, summoning all Swedes and Goths to Lena.

  Then it was time for the Forsviker cavalry to cause serious delays for the Danish army so that their own forces would have plenty of time to assemble. It helped that they would soon be several days’ ride from Skara.

  The first time the Forsvikers switched to the new way of attacking, they killed more than a hundred of the oxen and other draft animals; they also burned most of the fodder at the very back of the Danish column. Then they cut off the supply line to the rear, so that everyone who was sent on foot to Skara to fetch new animals disappeared, never to be seen again.

  When heavy riders were dispatched back to protect the columns that were supposed to procure new supplies and draft animals, Arn immediately moved his men up toward the head of the army and began harassing the standard-bearers by riding close and shooting either the men or their horses. Now the Danes no longer dared send any of their forces to pursue these tormenters.

  Every third day Arn sent one squadron home to Forsvik to tend to their minor wounds and tack, to sharpen their weapons and rest, while the next squadron went into service. The most important thing that the Forsvikers achieved during these weeks as they constantly plagued the Danes with their pinpricks was to delay the army and make them frantic with longing to use their superior force for a decisive battle. The cold grew worse every day, and that too ought to make the Danes more inclined to go into battle with all their troops or to proceed across the ice of Lake Vättern to Näs.

  The nights were becoming unbearable for them, and the snow meant that the enemy could approach in silence, even on horseback. Anyone who emerged from his tent at night to stand by the fire would certainly have the blessing of warmth, but he was also blinded by the blaze and couldn’t see where the arrows were suddenly coming from. Every night the winter-clad Forsvikers crept up close with their bows.

  When the Danes were within a day’s ride from the castle at Lena, their blue-clad tormenters suddenly disappeared, but the tracks in the snow clearly led toward the castle, which King Sverker and his men knew well. It looked as if the Swedes and Goths were finally preparing to fight like honourable men.

  And such was truly the case. At Lena the entire Swedish army had assembled, consisting of three thousand men on foot, along with all of the Folkung riders.

  But of even greater importance was the fact that from every Folkung estate thralls and stable hands, peasants, caretakers and smiths had arrived in great numbers; even some house thralls had come. Most brought their own longbows with them and five arrows. But anyone who needed a new string or even a new bow or arrows was well supplied. More than three thousand of these low-born archers had gathered at Lena.

  The Forsviker cavalry was one hundred and fifty strong; a third of them were heavy riders, the rest were light. Two hundred crossbowmen from Arnäs and Bjälbo and other Folkung estates were also there, as were a hundred men with long horse lances and steel-clad horse shields.

  As the Danish army approached Lena, the Folkungs, the Swedes, and the few Eriks who had managed to get past the Danes, took up position in the valley at the foot of Högstenaberget. In the vanguard stood the heavy riders, mostly to tempt the Danes into what appeared to be an easy assault. Behind them stood the light cavalry, and behind them a defensive wall of shields and long horse lances. Only a few paces in back of the line of shields stood the two hundred crossbowmen, and then the entire roaring and battle-ready army of Upplanders and other wild Swedes who were the foot-soldiers.

  At the very rear were the more than three thousand longbow archers. They were the key to either victory or defeat.

  Arn had brought with him King Erik and two squadrons of his own horsemen to ride out to the Danes and induce them to turn in the right direction. With King Erik rode his standard-bearer, and the three golden crowns against a blue background could be seen from far away on that clear and cold winter day. It was a signal to the Danes that they were now confronting the real enemy for a decisive battle.

  Arn and the king and their retinue didn’t need to show themselves to the Danish army for very long before the Danes began doing what they had hoped. The troops came to halt high up in the valley in order to have a downward sl
ope for their first overwhelming attack with the heavy cavalry. They must have been very pleased when they found that the enemy didn’t seem to realize what a disadvantage it was to offer the possibility for such a descent. Now the site of the battle had been determined, but it would take several hours before the Danes established order among their forces.

  Arn rode with King Erik back to their own army. Together they made the rounds so as to instil courage in their men, since they could all see what a mighty force had begun to rally up on the slope. Time after time Arn and the king tried to impress upon all their men that if everyone did as they were ordered, they’d be able to win victory faster than anyone could guess. But no one should have any doubts or lose their courage, since that was not only a great sin but also halfway to defeat.

  To the line of big, rectangular horse shields and lances, they said that each man must stand firm. If a single man started running when the ground shook with horses thundering forward, a gap would appear that could be seen from far away by the attacking riders; that was exactly what they were waiting for in order to get through. But if everyone stood his ground, they would not get through; it was as simple as that.

  To the crossbowmen they said time and again that they should take up position only when the enemies were so close that they could see the whites of their eyes. Then, and only then, should they take aim and shoot. Anyone who shot without taking aim would merely lose a bolt, but if everyone did as ordered, more than a hundred riders would fall before the lances, blocking the way for all the riders coming behind them, if any actually came.

  But it was difficult to talk any sense into the Swedish army. These savage men looked more as if they were shaking with impatience, wanting to rush out onto the battlefield as fast as possible and get themselves killed.

  On the other hand, there were important words to say to the longbow archers who stood at the very back and represented the largest force in the army. Arn explained that they and no one else would secure the victory. If every man did as he had practiced, then the victory was theirs. Otherwise, they would all die together here at Lena.

  After King Erik and Arn had spoken with so many longbow archers that their mouths were dry, they noticed that a commotion had started up among the Danish troops, as if they were preparing to attack. Silence fell over the battlefield, and everyone prayed to God and the saints that they might see victory and survive. The Danes already sensed victory within their grasp, since from their viewpoint high on the slope, they could see that the enemy they were about to fight had an army only a third the size of their own, and less than a third as many riders.

  The faces of the Goths, Eriks, and Folkungs turned pale, while the Swedes merely seemed even more impatient to get started.

  Arn rode over to the longbow archers and ordered one of the best archers, whom he knew from the village outside Arnäs, to shoot an arrow with red fletches to the height and in the direction that all had been ordered to shoot.

  One lone arrow soon sailed high and far over the battlefield, landing close to the mid-point between the two armies. Coarse laughter was heard from the Danes up there; they seemed to think that some frightened archer had lost his wits. But they had never encountered longbow archers. Arn breathed a sigh of relief and said his last prayers.

  When the heavy Danish riders set off, the mighty sound was heard of thousands upon thousands of horses’ hooves pounding through the snow. Arn thought that it would have been much worse and more terrifying if the ground had been hard and free of snow; then the roar would have been deafening. But even without the rumble of attacking heavy riders, it was a mighty wall of death and steel that now came pouring down the slope.

  Arn sat on his horse near a small hill across from the longbow archers. He ordered them to nock their first arrow and aim as they’d been taught, which was halfway between heaven and earth. There was a great rustling as three thousand bows were pulled taut.

  The clang of weapons and the thunder of horses’ hooves in the snow came closer, but the snow also sprayed up in an ever-growing white cloud, which was an advantage that Arn only now perceived. He cast a stern glance at the distant arrow with the red feathers, and the wall of horsemen in the snowstorm as they approached it. Then he raised his hand and shouted at the top of his lungs that everyone should wait…and wait…and wait still more!

  ‘Nowwww!’ he bellowed as loudly as he could, and dropped his right hand.

  And then the battlefield grew dark with a great black cloud that at first rose up and then sank toward the attacking riders; there was a whistling and roaring in the air, as if a thousand cranes had lifted off at once.

  When the first salvo of arrows struck the storming Danish army, it was as if God’s iron fist had dealt them a blow from above. Hundreds of horses fell, shrieking and kicking in the great cloud of snow that blinded those who came behind them, causing many who weren’t even struck by arrows to fall to the ground. By then the next black cloud of arrows was already on its way.

  A thin line of the vanguard Danish riders had passed through the deadly rain of arrows and continued forward with undiminished speed. They never realized that they were now only a small part of their own cavalry force.

  Arn had ordered the third and last salvo of longbow arrows against the foot-soldiers, who came running behind their own horsemen. Then he had ridden forward to the crossbowmen and commanded all the heavy and light riders in front of them to move to the sides to get out of the way.

  He positioned his horse in the midst of the crossbowmen and shouted both to them and to the men with the horse lances that victory was now very close at hand if they would just wait until the right moment. Then he ordered the crossbowmen to stand up and aim as he raised his hand.

  At a distance of twenty paces, almost all of the last Danish riders, numbering now barely a hundred, fell to the ground. A few came sliding through the snow all the way up to the lances and were quickly speared.

  Now the untouched Folkung cavalry could go on the attack; the riders moved like a plough through the devastated Danish army and soon reached the foot-soldiers, who turned to flee.

  Arn didn’t even need to give the Swedes a command before they were on their way forward amidst wild war cries, swinging their axes overhead. Arn had to swiftly move out of the way in order not to be mowed down by the Swedes. He rode over to join King Erik, who had taken up position with a squadron of light Forsvikers on a hill with a view of the battlefield.

  ‘May God grant us victory on this day!’ shouted King Erik as Arn rode up alongside.

  ‘He has already done so,’ replied Arn. ‘But Sverker and his Danes up there don’t know it yet, because they probably can’t see through the clouds of snow.’

  Arn called his light riders back from the battlefield since they were no longer needed among all the Swedes, who were assiduously hacking at the enemy with their axes. Arn moved the riders into position near the place where he and King Erik were watching the battle, which was now more slaughter than war. The Swedish warriors were advancing fiercely, having now been thrown into the type of battle that suited them, with the enemy on foot and most of them already dead or wounded, and in slushy snow.

  It was time to seize the victory. Arn took King Erik and his standard and all the light Forsvikers up past the hill where the Danes had stood when they launched their attack. There he divided his forces into two groups and commanded the rider Oddvar and the rider Emund Jonsson to take their men and encircle the royal Danish standard-bearers that were visible some distance away, and cut off any retreat.

  King Sverker and his men didn’t seem to have fully grasped what had happened. For when Arn and King Erik and their standard-bearer with both the three crowns and the Folkung lion slowly approached, the Danes couldn’t believe their eyes. And when they started getting uneasy and cast a glance behind them, they saw that they were surrounded.

  The victors took their time, advancing slowly toward King Sverker and his men, among whom they recognized Archbisho
p Valerius and the marshal Ebbe Sunesson and several more from Näs.

  When the circle of Folkung riders closed ranks around Sverker and his men, the Danes were still scanning the battlefield looking for reinforcements. From down there the shrieks of dying men and horses could still be heard. King Erik and Arn approached until they were within two lance-lengths before they stopped. King Erik was the first to speak. His voice was calm and filled with great dignity.

  ‘Now, Sverker, this war is over,’ he began. ‘You are at the mercy of my favour or disfavour, and I hold your life in my hands like a baby bird. The same is true of the men who are with you. All the others are dead or will be soon; that is what you are hearing from down below. Tell me what you would have done if you were in my position now.’

  ‘He who kills a king will be excommunicated,’ replied King Sverker, his mouth dry.

  ‘So you think that you have God on your side?’ replied King Erik with an odd smile. ‘Then He has shown you His mercy in a very strange manner today. You came to us in cowardice with a foreign army, and God rewarded you as you deserved. But now I will tell you what I have decided, and God knows that I have thought a good deal over what I should do when this moment arrived. Your father killed my paternal grandfather. My father then killed your father. Let it end there. Give me the crown that you bear on your helmet of your own free will. Go back to Denmark and never return to our realm. Take your men and your archbishop with you, except for Ebbe Sunesson, for he has a debt to pay. The next time I will not spare your life. This I now swear before all men and before God.’