He stood watching his carls throw up his tent for him. The tent was an old sail, and that reminded him of the Danes. It irked him that he had been sent up here when the Danes would surely attack in the south. He thought this was Emma’s doing. She had disliked him since he had recoiled from her when she simpered up to him. He hated Emma. He thought she did much evil with Ethelred, who had always been rough and proud, but who, since his Norman marriage, had gotten savage. Now there was this ghost.
Uhtred was Ethelred’s man, had been since becoming lord of Bamburgh years before. Ethelred had done some rash things, but at heart he was the same brave, hard-riding boy he had been when they were together at court. And he was Uhtred’s King.
Nonetheless, when he thought of slaughtering a pack of defenseless people for the sake of the Norman Queen, it put him on edge. It would be a bloody thing if they tried to fight; his men would be hacking down women with hayforks, children with sticks. Not even Danes. Jor’ck was a good city too, or had been, sitting where it was at the center of some of the best sheep country in the North and right on a river. But the King had ordered it destroyed, and Uhtred was proud of his loyalty.
He could give the people a way out. Just before dark, with his camp set up, he sent a messenger up to the gate to announce that they should all leave the city by the next sundown, and he would raze it then.
* * *
He had laid out his camp on the greensward, the horses tethered where they could eat, the men where they could defend one another and the horses, and himself with his tent in the middle with the supply wagons, where he could move quickly to any part of the field. But just after dark somebody managed to get in among the horses and spook them, and the terror spread, and horses broke their tethers and ran mad through the camp, neighing and running men down and kicking over fires and gear. It took him most of the night to get his men back in order and the horses tied.
In the morning the gate was still shut. No one seemed to be leaving. The tall, stooped, white-haired man was watching him from the top of the wall. Uhtred rode away, his teeth set, to plan an attack.
* * *
Goda had been on the wall all night, but he got back to his house to find Raef’s wife in his bed. It was full daylight anyway, time to get back to work. Cursing under his breath he went around to the shambles. He had an ewe backed up against his chest, his arms around her as he scraped the long nappy wool off her belly, when he noticed that old Tem and his brother and his shepherds had come up by the withy fence and were staring at him.
Nearly everybody else was still at the wall. Goda kept on; there was no stopping in the middle of a sheep. When he had turned the sheep and cleaned her up to the neck, he clipped off the fleece, flung it white-side down on the table in the shed for Miru to pluck, and went up to the men at the fence.
Tem waved his oak walking stick at him. His white whiskers bristled. He had a big farm just beyond the old Coppergate and was always moving in on the abandoned places near him. Even before Goda reached the fence he was shouting, “It’s that crazy man in the hall that’s causing this. He’s brought them down on us. I told you we should have run him out of there.”
The other men with him grumbled in agreement. They all worked for Tem and would say whatever he wanted. Goda wondered where Miru was. Where that other woman was, Raef’s wife. Tem was still shouting. “I don’t like him anyway. I don’t know who he is. Who he thinks he is. I say we all go up there and put him in irons – has anybody got irons?”
Nobody said anything. Miru had come out of the back shed of the shambles, her hands covered with blood and her eyes sharp.
Tem leaned on his stick, his jaw thrust out like a plowshare. Goda swung toward him.
“Listen to me, old man. I like him a lot better than I like you. And he’s right. Uhtred’s not here for any good of ours, and we have to stand up to him, at least long enough to get him to make some kind of agreement with us. Now get out of here.”
Miru had gone, probably to tell the crazy man’s wife what was happening. Tem and his men grunted a few more comments, but Goda went to work on another sheep. Then he could sleep a few hours and go back to the wall. Whatever happened, he wanted it to be out in front of him, where he could see it coming.
* * *
Raef stood in the doorway of his hall, looking off down across the town. Leif came up beside him.
“Go get her.”
Raef grunted at him. “If she’s not here of her own will, she’s not here.”
Leif grunted, his hands on his hips. He had walked down earlier and seen Laissa and the baby at Mini’s, and he thought only Laissa’s pride kept her away: Raef should carry her back. “You’re her husband. She has to obey you.”
“So I’ve seen.”
Leif saw the flash of anger in him and hastily went on to something else. “What will happen with Uhtred?”
“He’ll attack soon. He has men in the woods looking for logs to use as rams and climbing ladders. If we can keep him out for a couple of days, he’ll talk.”
“What will you do?”
Raef leaned on the doorframe. The missing ear made him look lopsided. “If we can keep him out, why talk?”
Leif slid his palm along the haft of his axe. He said, “It’ll be a bloody mess. How long will these people follow you if they start dying?”
“I don’t think it will go that far,” Raef said. He raked his beard with his fingers, his eyes looking away. “I wish Laissa would come back. I can’t think about everything at once.”
* * *
Laissa said, “No, I have to leave your house, Miru, I’m putting you in danger. Goda is right. I’ll go to the church until I find something better.”
“The church,” Miru said. “Anybody can jump on you there.”
“Jesus will defend me,” she said, and took the baby and, with Miru, went on over to the old minster.
“You’re not staying here all day, are you?” Miru asked. They stood just inside the door of the shadowy stone minster. “We should clean this place up.”
A few people prayed by the altar rail. Laissa did not want to go nearer them, and she went along the wall, looking for some place good to hide. By the small side altar, the basin for the water blessing stood, a round stone bowl as high as her waist and wide across as her two arms outstretched. Between the curved side of the bowl and the straight rail of the altar was a narrow space where she put her cloak and the baby’s blanket and the sack of food Miru had brought. She drew back and turned to Miru.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Where?”
“Up to the wall,” Laissa said. “I want to see what’s happening.” She did not say she wanted to see Raef, if only at a distance.
Gemma on her hip, she followed Miru up the dusty street. Her mind tugged her back and forth. She missed Raef, and she wanted to go home, to her loom, her own bed, her own fire. Her husband, her husband’s arms. But it was Raef who drew the evil here. Something more terrible than soldiers with swords was after him. She had to protect the baby. Gemma rode happily on her hip, unaware of any of this. She looked like Raef sometimes. It came into Laissa’s mind that she had left him when he needed her.
He did not seem to need her much.
Ahead across a stretch of sheep pasture the wall rose. She gasped, amazed; it was covered with people, all carrying some stick or knife. They were all shouting and chattering at once, like a great flock of birds. The Green Stray Boys strutted by, long staves tilted on their shoulders. All along the rampart stood piles of rocks. Men talked together in groups, walked from one group to the next, rakes in their hands, their scythes silver edged from the hone. Miru turned to her and laughed.
“Yes, everybody is here. We’re going to fight for Jorvik. Look, there’s Raef.” She gave Laissa a sly look.
Laissa had already seen him; his long white hair was like a flag. She said nothing. Fight for Jorvik. She thought, I was a coward to run away. She took off her belt, wrapped part of her apron around
the baby, and fastened Gemma to her side. With both hands free and Miru just ahead of her, she went up the broken old staircase to the rampart.
Chapter Twelve
Raef moved down the wall, away from the thick of the crowd; trying to keep his mind on everything at once had him stretched tight as spider silk. The disorderly army in front of him was moving up for an attack. They were bringing coils of rope and limbed tree trunks to use as climbing ladders. Uhtred rode in their midst. He was the only man mounted, his green-jacketed guard walking along in a rank near the front of the army to lead the attack.
All along the wall the Jorvikers were yelling, waving their rakes and hoes. Raef thought nearly everybody left in the city was there. Even the children were here, huddled together on the stone walks, in the corners, curled in their father’s coats. Then, down the wall, nearer the high frame wall of the gate, he saw Laissa.
She had come up on the wall, the baby in her arms, and was looking toward the oncoming army, and she shouted, like the others. He turned forward again. His body felt wider on that side, aching toward her. She did not come to him. Just because she was here did not mean she was coming back to him. He loved that she was here. He forced himself to pay attention to Uhtred.
The Bamburgh lord was yelling out there and waving his arm, and a string of men with bows ran past Uhtred toward the wall. From the wall a Jorviker arrow fluttered toward the army and fell short. Uhtred’s archers kneeled down and bent their bows.
On the wall a shrill scream of warning rose, and the whole crowd folded at once down behind the top of the wall. Raef stayed where he was, watching Uhtred, now hustling his climbing ladders forward.
The archers shot in volleys, pelting the wall with their arrows. Uhtred was down there, yelling at them and pointing up at Raef, and two of the archers moved out of their rank. They ran down the grass, kneeled opposite Raef, and aimed at him. He leaned on the wall.
He flicked a glance toward the array of climbing ladders tilted up against the wall like tent poles. Most didn’t quite reach the top of the wall, and the last few feet were going to be a hard climb for Uhtred’s men. The Bamburgh lord’s archers lined up below him shot.
The arrows sang toward him, well aimed; he had only to put up his hands and catch them. Seeing this, the two men with their bows startled up to their feet. One nocked another arrow, but the man beside him was already running. Raef flung his own arrow at him, and he screamed and crumpled into the grass. The other archer fired off his second shot wildly into the air and raced away. Raef threw the arrow in his hand and missed, but the archer kept on running, out of the army, down the meadow, out of sight and into the woods. The one Raef had hit was not dead. The arrow poked from the back of his thigh, and he was lying flat on his face, but he was creeping away on his belly.
The other archers were still keeping the Jorvikers huddled down behind the parapet, and Uhtred’s men were swarming the ladders against the wall. Down past Laissa, Leif moved along the rampart behind the Jorvikers, talking to them, getting them ready; he walked at a squat, like a strange dwarf, to stay under the cover of the wall. Raef leaned against the wall, watching Uhtred.
* * *
Leif said, “They’re coming. They’re coming. As soon as they’re up, throw them off. Just push them back. Laissa!”
She turned toward him; she was wedged in against the wall with Miru on one side and Goda on the other. Leif grabbed her arm. “What are you doing here with that baby?”
“I’m fighting for Jorvik,” Laissa said. “Am I supposed to hide in a hole?” A trumpet blasted.
She jerked out of his grip. Leif straightened, drawing his hand ax from his belt, and, almost at once, men with helmets and green jackets were swarming up to the top of the wall.
Laissa slid one arm around the baby, Gemma wide-eyed, both fists tight in Laissa’s apron, the belt holding her fast. The people around her rose from their crouch behind the wall like a cresting wave. At the edge of the parapet, their rakes and hoes jabbed out and down into the enemy’s faces. Some of the men climbing up the parapet recoiled and fell backward. Others were struggling on up, knocking aside the long poles. Laissa yelled, “Miru!”
Directly before the butcher’s wife a man in a helmet was trying to swing one leg over the wall. Laissa rushed at him, her hands thrust forward, and slammed into him; she was a little behind him and she hit him on the ribs with all her weight. He swayed, half falling, clinging to the wall with his left hand, the sword in his right hand clanging off the stone. The men under him on the ladder screamed at him, pushing him back up onto the wall.
Laissa shoved him again, and beside her Miru slid her shoulder under his arm and they flung him backward. With a yell he flew off, and on the way down he hit the men on the ladder below him and brought them down too.
Panting, Laissa backed away. Gemma was shrieking on her hip, one hand fisted in Laissa’s hair, and her mother put an arm around her. A horn blew. All along the wall Uhtred’s men were dropping back. Miru shouted, shaking her fists. Laissa went back and looked over the top of the wall.
The ground at the foot was littered with peeled and notched tree trunks and half a dozen bodies, some trying to stand, to limp away. All up and down the wall the Jorvikers were roaring in triumph. Miru turned to her, red faced and beaming. “We beat them!” A stream of boys ran along the rampart, whooping.
“We beat them!”
The trumpet sounded again. Uhtred was galloping around back there, getting his army together.
Laissa glanced down the wall toward Raef. He had not moved. He stood in his usual stoop at the angle of the wall, looking out. He never looked at her. She turned her eyes away from him.
Leif came by her, talking to the Jorvikers lined up against the wall. “They’re going to attack again. This time they’ll be harder. You beat them once, you can beat them again, but it will be harder this time. Help one another. Stay together.” He went past her, toward Raef. A few moments later Leif came back along the wall again, found Goda, and with him and three or four others trotted down the stairs into the city and went over to the far side of the gate.
The baby was still screaming. She had been hungry for a while, and her little fists banged in the air and her legs thrashed. Laissa sat down quickly with her back to the wall and gave her the breast while she could.
* * *
Uhtred shouted, “These are peasants. Are you afraid of peasants? There are women up there. What are women good for?”
His men yelled. He had lost a dozen in the first assault, mostly wounded. His green jackets looked tough enough, ready to show the Jorvikers what fighting really was, but most of the others, especially the fyrdmen from Ethelred’s lands, were common husbandmen, plowboys and reapers, and they were glum that this wasn’t easier. He shouted at them, “They were lucky that time. Now we’ll get them, and you’ll all get yours.” The men cheered.
This time he meant to come up in two waves at the stretch just right of the gate. The archers would sweep the wall clear. Then the first wave of men up the wall would push the defenders back, and the second would take control. Once he had the gate, the Jorvikers would start running.
He turned his horse; his gaze went to the tall white-haired man on the wall, a hundred feet down from the big stone box of the gate. Uhtred had sent archers to kill him. He must be wearing mail under that ragged shirt. He was watching Uhtred steadily, and his gaze unsettled the Saxon like a nettle on his skin.
He lined up his archers facing the long stretch of wall, well west of the gate, so it would look as if the attack were coming there. He nodded to his herald, who lifted the trumpet to his lips and blew.
The archers raised their bows and, with a steady rain of arrows, drove the Jorvikers down behind their parapets. The front half of the army rushed the wall, howling, and gathered the climbing logs as they got to them; then, in a mass, the men swung to their left and slammed the logs up against the stone rampart of the gate.
As they scrambled up, the arche
rs lowered their bows for fear of hitting their own men, and the Jorvikers rose up into sight above the wall. Men and women, even children, saw the green jackets scaling up toward them by the gate; a scream went up, and they rushed to meet the attack. The crowd sprouted rakes and sticks and axes like some kind of giant hedgehog. They threw back the first few of Uhtred’s men, jabbing at them with their farm tools. Uhtred nodded, and the trumpeter blew again, and the second wave went in.
The Jorvikers were crowding along the wall toward the gate, but, as Uhtred had expected, the upright wall of the gate, six feet above the rampart, gave his men some protection and kept the Jorvikers from bringing all their numbers at once. Now Uhtred’s men were pouring up that narrow stretch of wall faster than the Jorvikers could stop them. Already some green jackets stood on the wall, chopping down rakes and hoes. More clambered up to join them. In a moment they could take the gate, smash it open, and let everybody in at once. Uhtred laughed. This was going to be over soon.
Then, abruptly, on top of the gate, half a dozen men appeared. Their leader waved an axe. They ran across the gate and bounded down onto the backs of the green jackets.
His men went down. Uhtred swore. A thundering cheer rose from the people on the wall, and they pushed forward again. On the ladders, suddenly his men were climbing down instead of going up. Another ladder fell. Uhtred spat, disgusted. He turned to the trumpeter again to sound retreat. He would have to think of something else.
* * *
Gemma was screaming at the top of her lungs, her face all round, howling mouth. Laissa untied her and went to sit down and nurse her, but the baby was too angry even to take the breast. Around her the people were rushing up and down, leaping and hugging one another and screaming. Little boys were dashing all over the rampart and the ground below, picking up arrows. Miru danced around with Goda, laughing into her husband’s laughing face. Laissa looked beyond them.
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