Wulfstan, son of Ceola, waited for the tide to ebb so blood could flow.
Across Panta Channel, on Northey Island, Danes lined the shore waving axes, swords, and spears, yelling curses mostly carried away by the freshening breeze from the shore. At low tide, a causeway connected Northey Island with the mainland just southeast of the town of Maldon. Northern raiders preferred such islands because they needed only a small guard to protect their ships.
“They say there are nearly a hundred ships,” hissed Godric, Odda’s son.
“So?”
“That’s at least three thousand warriors!”
“And there’s three thousand fyrd with us, not including our brother thegns and all the house-carls of Essex.”
Godric looked in amazement. “They’re but farmers. Hardly a byrnie amongst them and all they bear are cheap spearheads on ash-wood poles.”
“Then those of us who have taken rings from Byrhtnoth must fight all the better.” Wulfstan strode forward to the edge of the causeway, leaving Godric behind.
Byrhtnoth, son of Byhrthelm, Ealdorman of Essex, already waited at the edge. Two hands and more greater than six feet, with hair white as a swan, he looked down at his newest thegn. “Do you think you can hold against them all at the water’s edge, boy?”
Wulfstan considered the causeway, then shook his head. “No, lord. I’ll need two others.”
The ealdorman laughed. “Very well. Aelfhere and Maccus, you stand with the boy.”
“As long as he does all the work,” said Aelfhere. “I’m too old for this.”
“As am I,” said Maccus with a matching grin.
One of the Danes, shorter, broader, but with lithe, quick steps moved forward and sent a blast from a horn across the channel. With all eyes upon him, he yelled, “You! The tall one with the white hair. Are you the Byrhtnoth we’ve heard of?”
The ealdorman stepped to the channel’s edge. “I am. And who are you?”
“Olaf, son of Tryggvi, jarl of these men.” He gestured at the host behind him. “As you can see, they thirst for the fight.” He smiled. “However, if you send us rings of gold and hauberks of steel then we’ll see no need for the spear-rush. Indeed, a day as beautiful as this is one for sailing. If you give us these gifts, we’ll grant a truce and then enjoy the wind and spray of the sea.”
“Of you I’ve heard, and I’ve no doubt of your word. Here is my answer.” Byrhtnoth grasped his shield and lifted his spear. “Spears of ash we shall give you, and swords of steel as well, yet only their edges and their points. Tell your folk that here stands a good earl with loyal thegns and the fyrd about him. To our king, Aethelred, we have sworn oaths, and this land we shall defend no matter that we may fall.”
“So be it. Tell your god when you see him that we gave you a fair chance.”
“I shall, when my time truly comes.”
The Dane laughed. He turned and said something to the men behind them. Some of them ordered their ranks and moved to their end of the causeway. Inch by inch, the causeway appeared as the tides, inexorably, pulled away.
Wulfstan stepped up, locking shields with Aelfhere on his left and Maccus on his right.
“This’ll do.” Aelfhere turned to those behind him. “The rest of you fill if we fall, but give us room.”
Byrhtnoth began arranging the troops behind them. First, he called forward the few score bowmen at hand.
“Aelfnoth, you command the left. Wulfmaer the right. Leave off until you see any bowmen on their side. We can hold this causeway easily, but not if they start killing us with arrows as we stand. Understand?”
The two thegns nodded.
“Good.” The ealdorman turned to the bulk of his men. A score he had already left guarding the horses which had allowed the English to reach Maldon in time. The others he split into three blocks, one to each side and then one, slightly larger, in the center. In the front rank of each block he placed the house-carls, who wore steel armor and bore shields. The fyrd arrayed themselves behind that line, ready to thrust with their spears past the shields. The fyrd may have been farmers and herdsmen, but most had stood in shield walls before.
Yet never against three thousand raiders. Godric was not the only English warrior to wonder at the size of the host before them.
Byrhtnoth marched to each group in turn, giving them all the same message. “Stand firm, lads. They only want plunder and easy wealth, not your steel. They’ll run once they see we’re true English men.” Each sent a cheer following the ealdorman. Then he and his score of personal thegns returned to the area near the causeway to stand behind Wulfstan and the two flanking him.
Byrhtnoth leaned on his spear.
The sun crept higher.
The sea crept lower.
The more impatient of the Danes started splashing over, only to have Olaf snap at them to wait.
So they taunted and insulted the English.
Who just kept waiting.
When the sun reached halfway to its peak, the tide had exposed the causeway, leaving only puddles of water here and there. Olaf motioned, and the Danes marched.
When they were three paces away from the end, the front ranks charged, hoping to overwhelm Wulfstan, Aelfhere, and Maccus.
The three defenders, however, stepped forward in unison at the last moment, and shields crashed together. The front ranks of the Danes stumbled, with those immediately behind colliding into a pile. Wulfstan stabbed down with his sword, spilling the day’s first blood.
He stabbed again, this time into an exposed leg, earning a yell. Next to him Aelfhere and Maccus bloodied their weapons as well.
The following ranks pressed in, stepping over their fallen brothers. An axe sliced along the edge of Wulfstan’s shield, cutting through the iron binding and carrying a chunk away. Wulfstan twisted back, slashing through the Dane’s byrnie. He then stabbed into an exposed flank.
That exposed his own flank, but Aelfhere anticipated the youth’s mistake. He stepped forward, interposing his shield and allowing Wulfstan to regain his position.
One of the pile at Wulfstan’s feet apparently still lived, for a hand reached out to grasp his ankle. He tried to tug his foot away as another Danish line approached, but the hand held firmly. Desperately, Wulfstan lifted his shield high and chopped down.
A spurt of blood from the wrist rewarded his slash, but the crash on his shield drove him to a knee. He pushed himself up with a thrust at a Dane’s belly. His sword slid through iron rings and the Northman stumbled back, grabbing at his entrails.
Another Dane charged in wildly, axe raised high. Maccus simply made a small step and directed him off the causeway. He splashed into the water, spluttering and struggling to gain his feet.
But yet they still came. Wulfstan’s limbs tired, and all three of the Byrhtnoth’s thegns rasped desperately for breath. Behind them, three more thegns prepared to step in, should they be needed.
By now, the dead and dying Danes provided a grisly breastwork for the defenders, but that slowed not the Northmen. They scrambled over the bodies of their brothers, slashing with axe and sword, stabbing with bright spears.
An axe chopped off most of Aelfhere’s shield, but the old warrior returned the favor by breaking the axe’s handle. The destruction of shield and axe gave the two warriors a moment to stare at each other, but the moment swiftly ended when another Dane pushed past.
The Northman pressed Aelfhere with his shield, trying to force him back and provide an opening for his fellows behind him. However, the dead and wounded made him place his feet awkwardly. His leg extended, and Wulfstan slashed down. The Dane stumbled, twisting away. Aelfhere finished him off. The man’s shield fell to the ground and Aelfhere grabbed it in but a moment.
The attackers paused, gauging anew their options to create a breach. Meanwhile, the defenders leaned back and gasped for breath. Wulfstan heard Byrhtnoth urge the three to step back in favor of fresh replacements, but Maccus snarled back with words Wulfstan could not comprehend. They earned a laugh from B
yrhtnoth.
Still gasping, they raised their shields when the Danes stepped forward. This time, a Northman bearing a shield led several clustered spearmen who, instead of charging, reached the edge of the pile and flicked their spear tips at the defenders.
Aelfhere tapped one away with his sword. Maccus tempted one spearman with a target, but slammed his shield on the top of the spear tip and chopped through the spear’s shaft.
Two spear points came toward Wulfstan, one from each side. He twisted away from one while at the same time putting his shield in front of the other. However, with the bodies at his feet limiting his steps, the maneuver left him off-balance. The spearman thrust again, hitting Wulfstan’s shield. His aching legs could not compensate for the lack of balance, and the thrust made Wulfstan stumble.
Maccus moved his shield to guard Wulfstan’s suddenly exposed side from the following thrusts, but in so doing allowed a spear to rake along his sword arm’s shoulder. He grunted in pain, but Wulfstan scrambled back into position. Maccus turned back, sword still raised, a scarlet streak running down the iron rings of his byrnie.
A horn blew from amidst the mass of Danes on the causeway. The Danes stepped back and Olaf moved into the gap between the lines.
With a broad smile, he gestured at the pile. “You three have made the Valkyries busy today. I’ve no doubt they’ll lift you on their white horses when your time comes.”
“Today is not that day, Dane,” snarled Maccus.
“Perhaps.” Olaf looked up at the sun. “But the day is not over and we have many hours left before the tide returns.”
Byrhtnoth stepped forward. “All the more time for you to sail back to your homes.”
The Danish leader laughed. “I had a different thought. Your three champions here have well guarded this causeway. Some score of men and more will dine with Woden tonight. Perhaps, though, you would consider moving back and allowing my brethren to form on your side of the channel. Then we shall see what the Victory-Judge says of our worth.”
“Do you doubt the worth of English men?” asked Byrhtnoth. “Are these dead here not enough of an answer?”
“I do not doubt these three men at all. Indeed, should they wish, I would accept them into my hall,” Olaf replied easily. “Yet they weary, and I would allow others of my kin a chance to prove themselves.”
“They do weary, but instead of allowing you to form up, I could name others to take their place. Eadric, Aelfwine, and Leofsunu are here at hand and none before have doubted their courage.”
Olaf looked at the three thegns. Then he stared into Byrhtnoth’s eyes. “Of their courage I do not doubt.”
Byrhtnoth’s eyebrows, as white as his hair, lifted. “But you doubt mine?”
“I didn’t say that.” Olaf gestured. “I will say that this causeway is no place for a battle. And it is truly a beautiful day to be on a ship.”
The ealdorman considered. “There is wisdom in your words, and I will consider them. I grant you truce to carry your dead and wounded back to the island. When that task is complete, I will give you my answer.”
With a grin, Olaf gestured at his men to come forward and carry the bodies away. For Byrhtnoth’s part, he ordered Wulfstan and his companions to step back in favor of Eadric and the others.
Cleaning his sword, Aelfhere looked at the ealdorman. “You can’t be thinking of accepting the jarl’s thought.”
“I am, in truth.”
“Don’t let your pride kill us all,” snapped his old comrade. “Ofermode has oft slain many a worthy thegn.”
“You think ofermode prompts me to allow them over?”
“Why else? Sure these lads and I slew a score of theirs, but we had every advantage.” He gestured to the fyrd lined up around them, eyes all turned their way. “Your fyrd are stout, it is no denying, but they are no match for the Danes.”
“You may be right, but I don’t know I have any other choice.”
“What in God’s name are you thinking?”
“You heard the jarl. They could as easily get into their ships and sail anywhere. They’ve already plundered Ipswich, but there are many other places they could raid. I’ve sworn to defend all of Essex, and if I have too much pride, such great ofermode, it would not be in keeping my sworn word to Aethelred, son of Edgar.”
Aelfhere’s eyes narrowed, and he looked back across the channel. The Danes had almost finished retrieving their dead.
Byrhtnoth put a hand on the older thegn’s shoulder. “I have the Danes at hand. If I allow them over the causeway, then we’ll have them penned in with the channel at their back. They’ll have to fight through our lines. It will not be easy, but if our hearts are the bolder, then we may stand and have a chance to drive them off.” He sighed. “I fear this host, if we don’t stop it here, it will come back time and again for our treasure. Nor will any gifts of gold and steel keep them from raiding as they please.”
Aelfhere nodded. “For once you have paid the Danegeld…”
“Yes.” Byrhtnoth straightened and looked about. “You take the left side.”
“My place is in the front,” protested Aelfhere.
“Your place was in the front. I would have all three of you, who held so strongly, lead the fyrd. They will be the braver for having seen your deeds and even this respite is little enough for you after that slaughter.”
Maccus joined them, arm now bandaged. He boasted, “I’m the bravest man here, but I’ll admit my arms show some small signs of weariness.”
Byrhtnoth laughed. “Then take the right.” He gestured the two older warriors off, then leaned down to Wulfstan. “The center I give you, with but these instructions, for you well know all else you’ll need.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“First, send back to those we left to guard our horses. Tell them to join with the rest of your men. We’ll need every spear we can muster, and I can walk back to my hall if needed. If we live.”
“And the other?”
He looked across the channel and spoke in a soft voice. “Keep your eyes on Godric and his brothers. We shall need our hearts to stay firm.”
“My lord—” protested Wulfstan.
The ealdorman raised his hand. “There is no time for that. You know it as well as I.”
After a long moment, the young thegn muttered. “As you command. What if they don’t follow my orders?”
“The men around you all saw your deeds on the causeway. If you lead, all will follow.”
“Except perhaps Godric.”
“Yes.” Byrhtnoth slipped a ring off his arm. “And if any ask, you may show them this ring of gold. You have my favor, and my thanks.”
“Thank you, lord.”
Byrhtnoth nodded, then yelled across the channel. “Olaf, son of Tryggvi! I grant you passage. Come quickly. I’ve got good English beer at my camp and fighting is dry, thirsty work.”
Olaf laughed, glancing at Byrhtnoth’s dispositions. “You are brave.”
“God will preserve us.”
“And Woden will preserve us. Perhaps today we’ll find out whose god is mightier.”
“When the sun sets, all will know what God alone knows now.”
Olaf turned and gestured. The Danes crossed the causeway, initially with suspicion, then with confidence. They settled into a line of approximately six hundred abreast, five or six deep. The front ranks stood with shields and glittering swords, those behind with bright axes, and the rear ranks with spears. The line bristled with steel, lust for battle, and the promise of victory.
Ravens, hunger whetted from the fight at the causeway’s edge, circled above them all.
Byrhtnoth stepped forward in the hundred paces or so that separated the lines. “Blessed be the Lord my God, who teacheth my hands to fight and my fingers to war! For Essex and Aethelred!”
“For Essex and the king!” shouted the fyrd.
Olaf, in his sardonic way, commanded his line to advance.
Byrhtnoth shouted, “Stand firm, lads! Le
t them come to us.” He and his thegns slid back behind the center group of men. “Wulfstan, keep them in the line and working together. They’ve got more armor than we do, so we have to keep the Danes as far away as possible.”
Wulfstan nodded and stepped into the middle of the ranks. “Kill them as they come! They’ll keep coming, climbing their dead, and then we kill more as they stumble!”
The fyrd around him raised a yell. Wulfstan noticed some of the fear in their eyes went away when they remembered his deeds from but an hour before. He glanced at Byrhtnoth, waiting stolidly to advance with his best warriors at the just the right time. Wulfstan’s heart soared. He yelled at Olaf, “Come, Northman! Your doom awaits!”
The jarl laughed.
Other Northmen, some fifty or sixty paces away, answered with their own war cries, but the slow, steady pace of the oncoming advance did not change. Stupid warriors charged from fifty paces.
Pity they’re not stupid, thought Wulfstan. He paced back and forth amidst his men. “Shields! Keep yourselves locked together. Step into them at my call. That’ll toss them off their feet and you can gut them on the ground!”
The shieldmen, all experienced warriors or they would have borne spears with the fyrd, nodded. His words were obvious, basic, but Wulfstan could almost hear them all say, “Lad’s young, but he knows what he’s about.” They became perfectly still. Poised.
Behind him, he heard Byrhtnoth command, “Aelfnoth! Wulfmaer! Get your bowmen ready!”
The Danes were now about twenty paces away.
“Bowmen, loose!”
Above Wulfstan came a flight of arrows wobbling in the wind. The Northmen lifted their shields and scornfully blocked the meager volley. They sent their own volley. A few fyrdmen along the English side yelled in pain, but none of the shieldmen.
Fifteen paces.
Another flight of arrows from each side, with much the same result.
At ten paces, the Danes charged with a loud yell.
The fyrd around Wulfstan took a half-step back in fear, but he shouted, “Stand firm!”
For a moment he thought the command failed, but the spearmen stepped forward just in time to support their front line.
Trouble in the Wind Page 7