by Griff Hosker
I had Egil Flame Bearer’s son, Leif, with me and he held his father’s horn. As the crossbowmen fled, I saw the enemy horsemen preparing to charge. “When I give the command then sound the horn twice. It will order the archers and slingers to retire.”
“Aye, lord.”
I could tell he was nervous, “Leif, do not fear. You are your father’s son. Do not panic and sound it twice, then twice more and twice more after that. All will be well. When that is done then wave my standard. I would have the enemy drawn on to me!”
The horsemen came with couched lances. Some were mailed, most were not. My archers and slingers sent a storm of arrows and stones. Horses and men fell. When they were less than forty paces from our archers I said, “Now!”
The horn sounded clearly. The archers and slingers ran. We opened our lines to let them through and then locked shields. I had no shield but Mauger and Arne locked theirs before me. I held Long Sword above my head. Our men had known there was a ditch. The Bretons did not. Most cleared it but some did not and both horses and riders fell. It broke the cohesion of a line which was already thinned by arrows and stones. My men had spears. From behind us came the spears of our second rank. They were charging into a hedgehog of steel.
Mauger said, as the horsemen neared us, “Lord Erik has driven the other horsemen from the field.”
I just nodded. Leif Egilsson held my banner and he waved it high above my head. I twirled my sword above too. I was a head taller than any other warrior and I saw an arrow of riders coming directly for me. The young men of Rouen were brave. They held their spears and braced themselves. The leading Bretons were not stopped. Four of my young warriors in the centre died in the initial attack. They managed to unhorse two riders but five more came towards us. I swung my sword, not at the warrior who rode the leading horse, but his mount. My sword hacked through the chestnut’s head. The animal had tried to swerve away from the long sword and, when it was hit, its dying carcass fell against the next horse. Both riders were unhorsed. Mauger and Arne stepped forward to spear the two riders. I brought my sword down on the Breton lord who tried to wriggle free from under the dead horse. We now had a barrier of horses and men before our centre. These were the best horsemen the Bretons had and two of them made their horses rear. Fearlessly Richard Tostigsson held his shield before him and rammed his sword into the chest of one of the horses. It tumbled and knocked over the other rearing horse. Robert and Guy of Rouen ran forward to slay the horsemen. The men on the two sides of their arrowhead were outnumbered and when half had fallen the rest retreated.
Guy looked at me. His mail was covered in blood. It looked like he had been working in an abattoir. I could not tell if any of the blood was his. He asked, “Is it over, lord?”
Bergil Fast Blade laughed, “No, young warrior. We have beaten off the attack they thought would win the day quickly. Now they use sheer weight of numbers. They will bring men on foot to fight us.”
I shouted, “Move the wounded! Leave the dead. Our warriors can still fight for us even though they are in the Otherworld!”
I saw the young warriors from Rouen clutch their crosses as they heard what they thought was blasphemy! They had lost a fifth of their number already and three others were wounded. Was their leader still a pagan? If they stood it would be a real test of their courage and their loyalty.
The Count had gambled on his best warriors, his horsemen and crossbowmen, breaking our line. That had not worked. Now he would have to resort to the levy. I saw men in mail with helmets. There were others with improvised weapons and quickly made wooden shields. The one advantage the Bretons had was that they outnumbered us. Erik and his horsemen were still chasing the Breton horsemen from the field. Until my son arrived with the rest of my men, we would have to hold the line. I glanced down the spears of my warriors. My lords were still dotted along it. Their hearth weru were around them. The second rank had our mailed veterans and it was only the third rank and the archers behind who were vulnerable. The young men of Rouen had shown me enough of their courage to give me hope for our third rank. This would be bloody and I did not want them wasted.
“Guy, take the young horsemen and guard Leif and my standard. Leif, stand behind the archers and wave my banner.”
“Aye lord.”
We opened our ranks to allow the men to slip through. They had impressed me. The three who had been wounded had stayed at the fore. They did not lack courage. When this was over, they would just need to be trained properly. As the Bretons steeled themselves for their attack, I saw Gandálfr step forward. One of the Breton horses still lived. I heard him say, “Go to the Allfather, warrior! You have earned your place in the Otherworld!” He mercifully ended its life and stepped back. My men were not cruel.
I saw the Count of Cornouaille. He rode a good horse and he had an entourage of eight men with him. They wore red cloaks. A priest rode a horse next to him. His rich robes told me that he was a bishop. They rode down the Breton line. The Count was speaking and, as he passed each group of men they cheered. At one point he turned and gestured towards me. Men shook their fists and weapons. Then he returned to the centre of the line. The Bishop dismounted. The whole Breton army knelt and the Bishop blessed them. If he had been a good leader then the Count of Cornouaille would have dismounted and joined his men in the next attack. He did not. The horsemen rode through their men and took their place at the rear. One of the red-cloaked horsemen dismounted and stood in the centre. It was obvious that he would lead. His position in the centre meant that he would come for me. The front rank shuffled around so that he was surrounded by mailed men.
“They will come for us.”
Bergil Fast Blade said, “And that is how it should be for we are the best.”
Gandálfr chuckled, “And these have fine mail and weapons. They oblige us by bringing their riches to it. I am gambling that the ones with the fine cloaks are wealthy. Let us hope they bring their coin to pay the ferryman!”
My men laughed. I studied the red-cloaked warrior. His helmet was unusual. It was high domed. I could see little of his face. The range was three hundred paces, and his mail coif covered all but his eyes. As he raised his spear to begin the attack, I saw that he had mailed gloves on his hands. This was a well-protected warrior. Then a horn sounded and, with banners fluttering in the breeze the line lurched forward. Our ditch was no longer an obstacle for it was filled with dead and dying men. The obstacles would be the bodies of the Breton dead.
I began chanting. It was soon taken up. My men banged their spears and swords against their shields. The cracks echoed across the battlefield like Thor’s thunder. The chant put steel in our hearts and, for the levy, made them fear the foe they faced.
Clan of the Horseman
Warriors strong
Clan of the Horseman
Our reach is long
Clan of the Horseman
Fight as one
Clan of the Horseman
Death will come
The Bretons should have chanted. It would have kept the rhythm for them. Some of their men stumbled for they were not in step. Some fell behind and some, especially those on the flanks who were unencumbered by mail and bodies hurried forward. The secret of a successful attack is to hit as one. In the first fifty paces, their line became ragged and had gaps in it. I was hopeful that this attack would be doomed to failure. Still, they came on. I saw the leader use his spear to try to control the advance of the Bretons. Some of the younger ones were eager to close with us. Some would have filled their breeks. The shame would make them want to fight and cover the breeks with Norman blood. Those within thirty men of the red-cloaked leader obeyed and that alone told me that they were the best of his warriors. They would be worthy opponents. I held my sword above my head and Arne and Mauger locked their shields. Galmr Leifsson and Leif Siggison, on the other side of those two, did the same. I heard laughter and looked down to see Bergil Fast Blade laughing with his men. He had recovered from his pit of despair. He did
not fear the enemy who came on. Like me, he fought with a sword. His hands were still fast despite his age.
When I glanced to the fore once more, I saw that the enemy was less than a hundred paces from us. “Archers! Now!” It sounded like a flock of birds had taken flight as arrows soared over our heads. They were loosing blindly but the Bretons filled the ground. Some would look up and they would die. Even those with shields might die for they did not have shields which were as good as ours and arrows could shatter a poorly made one. Shields came up. Some were slow and men were struck. Holes appeared in their lines but not in the centre. The solid phalanx came on. Their raised shields actually helped them for they could pick their way over the bodies littering the battlefield. Men fell. They were the ones who were poorly armed and protected. That would have an effect on their fellows who survived. It would sap their will to fight.
The red-cloaked leader waited until they were twenty paces from us and then, raising his spear shouted, “Charge!” They broke into a run. He and those around him all set off on the same leg. There were three dead horses before us and the red-cloaked Breton and his men clambered up to use the height they provided. I swung my sword as their spears were thrust down. The uneven nature of the horses’ carcasses meant that the red-cloaked Breton did not manage to thrust his spear at me but at Leif Siggison. My sword swung in an arc as a Breton spear was rammed at my helmet. Two things happened at once. The spearhead came from on high and it caught my eyepiece. My helmet was pushed down and I was temporarily blinded. My sword struck flesh, then mail and finally more flesh. I heard a scream and the falling spear released my helmet. I saw the Breton had had his right arm severed. My sword was stuck in his side. He fell backwards and his fall released it.
Next, to me, Arne snarled, “Bastard!”
I looked and saw that the red-cloaked Breton had taken Leif Siggison’s head and was holding it aloft. Another of my oathsworn had died. Mauger and Arne had slain the men before them and I pointed my sword at Leif’s killer, “He dies!” I turned and my men followed me. It was calculated. All along the line were combats between my lords, backed by their hearth weru, and knots of Bretons. We fought better this way. I swung my sword two-handed into the side of the warrior protecting Red Cloak’s side. Even had my blade not severed the links then the sword would have broken bones. As it was his scale armour was not good enough and my blade tore through to reveal his organs. He fell backwards. Red Cloak had lost his spear and he wielded a sword. He turned to swing at me. His sword was not a long one and although he hit my mail the links held. He had taken his strike. I raised my sword and brought it down. He lifted his shield to protect himself. The sword split the shield and I heard a grunt as his arm was broken. He was forced back and he slipped on a dead horse. As he fell backwards his arms instinctively spread open. He looked like the White Christ in Rouen Cathedral. I brought Long Sword down to split him in twain.
The better Bretons in the front ranks had perished but there were still many men who were fighting. Suddenly, I heard a wail from ahead. I stepped on to the dead horse which had been the Breton’s bane and I saw, at the rear of the enemy line, Bretons fleeing. Their Count was leaving. His banner marked his departure. Then I saw my son’s banner and, from the east, heard the thunder of hooves as Erik Gillesson and his men returned to the battlefield. The Bretons before us would not know that they had lost and they fought on but I knew and I roared, “William Longsword comes! We have victory! Let us end this!”
That and the death of Leif put heart into my men and we began to scythe our way through Bretons. None could stand before Long Sword. The blade was now blunted and dull but it was a long bar of steel and it broke bones as we advanced towards William. It was almost dusk when we met in the middle of a sea of bloody battered bodies.
I clasped my son’s arm, “Well met, William! Did you catch the Count?”
He shook his head, “He is as slippery as an eel. He took off with his horsemen. We could not stop him.” He waved his own long sword, “We have victory! Brittany is ours!”
We camped at the battlefield. The enemy wounded were despatched. My warriors passed over the battlefield and took from the enemy dead. We would have better-armed warriors now. Our men would all have Breton coins in their purses. Some would wear expensive boots and fine leather belts and baldrics. I saw Sven Ship Sealer sporting a red cloak. Our healers tended to our men. We buried our dead. There were many good warriors who had died. None of my lords had perished but all had lost, as I had, oathsworn. We had paid a high price for this land. Erik and his horsemen gathered the loose horses. We had roasted horse for food. As the bodies of the Breton dead were burned the wind took the smell and the smoke south. It would pass across Brittany and tell the people that their Count had lost.
I sat with my son and my closest lords around a fire and William told me of his battle. “They were expecting our fleet, father. Their ships were safe inside their harbours. They lined their walls. You were right to change your plans. Our men are loose-lipped or worse.”
I looked at the men who had come with my son. He had brought half of the lords he had led. Sámr was there and his bloody mail showed that he had fought. Olaf Olafsson was still with the fleet. My son had left him to command. He had known we would need our best warriors! “And how did you destroy their ships if they were in the harbour?”
He grinned, “We had knarr with us for treasure. Erik Leifsson suggested we fill them with kindling and use them as fire ships. The Bretons had made it easy for us. Their ships in the harbour were like a longphort. They could not be moved. The fire spread to the houses close by the strongholds. When their armies had left, they took their best men. We took Nantes straightaway. I brought half the army here and sent Olaf to take Vannes. I did right did I not?”
I waved an arm at the battlefield. “This is evidence that you did. You are ready to lead the clan!”
We had much treasure from the battlefield. Gandálfr was quite right. The Breton lords came with no thought of defeat. Their purses were full. I sent Erik and his horsemen home. We would not be needing them and I was aware that we had taken most of our men from the heartland of Normandy. Count Arnulf might seek to take advantage of our war. We marched to Nantes. The Count had fled. From some survivors, we discovered that he had ridden to Count Robert of Neustria in his Poitevin home. King Charles’ enemies were gathering. I realised that they were now my enemies too. While we awaited news from Olaf Olafsson, I began to examine Nantes. It had potential. It was closer to the sea than Rouen and there was land to the south which could be raided. If we raided Robert of Neustria, I would be doing that which King Charles wished. When news came, two days later, that Vannes had surrendered to Olaf Olafsson then I knew that Brittany was ours.
I had decisions to make. I needed three counts: one for each of Rennes, Vannes and Nantes. They had to be strong men for if we held these three towns then the rest of the land would have to obey us. I wondered about taking one for myself and, as soon as the thought entered my head, I dismissed it. I liked Rouen and I was getting too old and set in my ways to move. I decided to wait until Olaf Olafsson returned. We had enough to occupy us. We had the treasure to divide and we had a town to loot. We had killed many lords. Their wives and families had fled to Poitiers, following the Count. By the time Olaf arrived, we had chests for all of my lords. They would divide it amongst their own men. For my part, I did not intend to keep any. I had enough and the men who had followed me deserved it. Erik Leifsson had been the one who had the idea of fireships and he would be rewarded as though he was a lord.
We held a feast to celebrate and I had made the decision who would be my counts. I decided to wait until after the meal to declare them. During the feast, men drank too much. That was normal. My son, Sámr, Bergil and my other senior lords did not. I watched men as they drank. The young horsemen of Rouen drank heavily but I noticed that they were more reflective than they had been when we had left Rouen. Richard Tostigsson was another who was reflecti
ve. He had shown me that he too had learned from the battle. He had impressed me. His father had said he would. I would give him a lordship. He would rule Alençon for me. I had spoken to some of my men before the meal. Sámr, and Ragnar, not to mention Bergil, deserved the first refusal of the three towns. Sámr and Ragnar chose not to accept my offer. I was not insulted. I had offered them to myself first and I had refused. I understood their reasons. Bergil had accepted. He would have Rennes.
I had decided on two others when Olaf Olafsson began to raise his voice. He was drunk and he boasted of his success. Taking Vannes had all been down to him. I heard his voice telling all of his prowess. No one else had taken such credit. I had spoken to Erik Leifsson. My captain had watched the attack and he knew the truth. I knew that others deserved as much credit for the victory. Not least my captain himself. I dismissed his words as the results of too much to drink until he began to tell those around him that he would be the new Count of Vannes. I had not spoken to him although I had a title planned for him. The more he went on the angrier I became. I did not like boastful men. I did not like warriors who took me for granted. I was Duke and the decision would be mine. By the time I was ready to make my announcement I had changed my mind. He would not have the title and the land I had previously planned.
I stood and banged on the table for silence. All faces looked to me. The only one who looked in expectation was Olaf Olafsson. He was in for a shock. “My friends, we have had a great victory. We have taken Brittany. We have doubled the size of the land we rule and all of you will benefit. There are chests of treasure for you to take home. All will be rewarded. I have four prizes to give. Rennes, I give to Bergil Fast Blade. He will be the new Count of Rouen.” It was a popular choice and men banged the table to show their approval. I will leave Nantes for the moment. Gandálfr would you exchange Lisieux for Vannes?”