Duke of Normandy

by Griff Hosker

  “I know, lord. Last night I spoke at length to Sven Blue Cheek. I know that which is expected of me.”

  “Æbbi, I know it goes against the grain but the hearth weru will be needed to fight and not just to protect me. Egil and Long Sword will have to be my hearth weru.”

  “It will be hard, lord but we obey you in all things.”

  “Bagsecg, you will need to keep horsemen from us without losing your own. Be as the horsefly and annoy them. There is no dishonour in fleeing. We need to hold them until Sven and the bulk of men arrive.”

  We had learned that Sámr had more than a hundred men to defend his walls. We knew not how many had survived the disaster. The messenger, Ardhal, had guessed at between fifty and a hundred but that was a pure guess. I estimated that if we had four or five hundred men we would be lucky. No one knew the size of the Breton army. Our army was growing, albeit slowly. As we passed farms we called men to arms. None of these would have mail but they would know how to use weapons and they would happily fight to protect the land from the Bretons. They knew that if the Bretons won they would lose their farms. We were clinging on to a narrow strip of land by our fingertips.

  Sámr had built his hall on a high piece of ground above the river. Although the river could be forded we would be able to cross by the bridge. What we had to do was to draw any enemies away from the bridge to allow us to attack the men defending it. We stopped at the deserted farm which lay in the woods next to the road. We could see the town of Bayeux. It was surrounded by Bretons but there did not appear to be an attack going on. I had fought in sieges, most notably Paris. Fighting was intermittent. Men tried to take one part of a wall and then they retired to evaluate their success. I stood in the eaves of the trees. There was cover for us. If we did not use the road then the sixty of us could move through the trees, shrubs, bumps and hollows. Once we were four hundred paces from the enemy camp then there would be no cover. Although the Bretons would have surrounded the town the bridge was their only way of using a ram to break down the gate. The ones who waited without their walls would be there to stop aid reaching Sámr and to stop men fleeing.

  “Bagsecg, I want you to ride to the south west and approach the Breton camp from that direction. We will move down to close with their camp. My intention is to take and hold the bridge. You and your men can withdraw here and use your horses to threaten the Bretons. I need as many drawing away from the bridge as you can manage. When Sven arrives on the morrow then you can join with him and fight your way through them to reach us.”

  “It is a risky plan, lord.”

  “The alternative is to wait and we know not how long Sámr Oakheart can do that.”

  “Then we will do our best.” He turned his horse and our forty horsemen headed south. We hobbled our horses and I led my sixty men towards the Bretons.

  As we moved Bergil Fast Blade said, “You know it will be almost dark when we reach them.”

  I nodded, “This plan only works if that is true. In the dark our small numbers will be disguised by our ferocious warriors. They will think we have more men than we actually do.”

  He nodded, “If it works then it will be worthy of a saga!”

  “I care not for such things. My shield brothers and lords are more important.”

  As we moved west I wondered about the Breton attack. This had nothing to do with Poppa’s priest. The spy had only left my town when Ubba was already fighting. They had known of the date of my intended attack and Æðelwald of Remisgat had discovered it. How had he been able to hear what was said in private? If I survived then I would question him. I had tried to be too clever. It might have cost me men. I was not as clever as my grandfather; I just thought I was.

  We were able to move quite quickly for most of the time. We moved in small groups and moved from cover to cover. The problem came in the open sections. I thought we had been spotted when we heard the horn and then I realised it was Bagsecg. He had shown himself to the enemy. At the very least it would halt any attack on the walls and it might draw a large number of men away. The sun was becoming lower in the sky ahead of us. That would also help us for it would mean we were charging from the darker east. More horns sounded. We had reached a small line of bushes and shrubs. I peered through. We were half a mile from the Breton lines. I saw men mounting their horses. We would have fewer men to face. We had another two hundred paces to move. We would be in dead ground with the road to our left. I swung my shield around and drew Long Sword. Óðalríkr Odhensson and Egil Flame Bearer were behind me. Óðalríkr Odhensson had come of age during the Paris raid. He had shown himself to be courageous and capable of thinking on his feet. He was not hearth weru and I was glad that he had joined me at the fore. Harold Strong Arm and the rest of my men would be the battering ram which would gain us the bridge.

  I knew that as soon as I rose I would be seen. That could not be helped. I just hoped that someone inside would see us too. Sámr had archers and even a few arrows might see us take the bridge. I began running towards the Bretons. I had my sword raised. We did not shout. Miraculously we had covered twenty paces before we were seen. Two men turned and when they saw us they shouted the alarm. Others turned. I saw a handful of arrows fly from the walls of Bayeux and two men fell. The sun was now setting more quickly and the stronghold and town were silhouetted. I brought my sword across my front as Bretons charged at us. They had no idea of numbers for the sky was dark behind us.

  My sword struck one Breton diagonally across the chest. Óðalríkr hacked with his sword across the middle of a second. Óðalríkr had mail but Egil did not. A spear was thrust at Egil but my standard bearer had quick reactions. He spun away from the spear and stabbed the spearman in the neck. My hearth weru made a wedge and charged at a body of Bretons who tried to bar our route to the bridge. Bergil led the rest of our men in a shield wall. My long legs had taken me almost to the bridge. It was now a race for horns sounded to recall the men who had chased after Bagsecg and his horsemen. It was too dark for arrows to be used from the walls of Bayeux. We had to kill as many of the Bretons at the bridge as possible so that we could turn and face the onslaught which I knew would come.

  Harold Strong Arm had led the wedge and it had struck hard and sent the Bretons sprawling into the ditch. I heard Æbbi Bonecrusher shout, “Double line!” My warriors formed a line to block an attack from that side. Bergil and the others were hewing and hacking at the men on the other. That left the bridge for the three of us to clear. There were still six Bretons on the bridge although one had an arrow in his leg.

  “Guard my flanks!” It was not a reckless and foolhardy attack. I was measured and knew what I was doing. The Bretons had swords and Long Sword outranged them. I was more than a head taller than the tallest of them. I had a bigger shield. I stepped forward and swung hard. I did not need to aim. There were six of them. I broke one Breton shoulder and sliced deep into the arm of a second as swords struck at my shield. I punched with my shield for I was still stepping forward, behind me Óðalríkr despatched first one and then a second wounded Breton. Egil swung the standard at the side of the head of the Breton on their extreme left. I brought my sword from on high to split a Breton head. Egil’s sword flashed and the Breton he had wounded died. There were two who were left. They held their hands up for mercy but it was too late and both died for my men had their blood up.

  I said to Egil and Óðalríkr. “Quickly turn and face.” As they did so I shouted, “The bridge is ours! Fall back!” The bridge was wide enough for five men. However, I occupied the space of two.

  I saw that I had lost men. Some of my hearth weru had given their lives for their lord. They would be in Valhalla but it still saddened me. Bergil led his men back. They had cleared a large number from his side. Bergil stood next to me and Egil and Óðalríkr stepped behind us. There were wounded men and they were dragged closer to the far end of the bridge. Æbbi Bonecrusher was the last of my hearth weru and he joined me and Harold Strong Arm on the front of the bridge. The
first Bretons who raced to catch my hearth weru paid a price for their eager haste. Four swords met them and cut them down. They could not get around us and the approach was a direct one. The four of us wore mail and were the best of my warriors. Each of us could have fought as a champion and the men who ran at us first were Bretons with little mail and not as much skill as we had. When we had slain ten of them I heard a Breton voice order them to halt. The hiatus gave me the opportunity to organize.

  “Egil, unfurl the banner! Óðalríkr stand behind Egil. I want spears over shoulders. Lock shields.” I did not know what Alan, King of the Bretons would do next but I knew what we had to do. We had less than fifty men and we would form a block on the bridge. The Bretons would have to push us all the way back to the walls of Bayeux. That would take time and time was our ally. Sven Blue Cheek was hurrying to our aid. The longer we fought the greater chance he had of deciding the day.

  As the enemy formed my hearth weru behind me began a chant. As they chanted they banged their shields. It seemed to echo from the walls and then I realised that Sámr and his men had joined in. The sound rolled and grew like an approaching thunderstorm. It joined those within and without Bayeux. It put steel into my men’s hearts for they were no longer alone and it put fear into the enemy.

  The men of Rouen go to war,

  A song of death to all its foes

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  A song of death to all its foes

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  A song of death to all its foes

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  The power of the horse grows and grows.

  A Breton horn sounded and from the dark came a roar. It would have sounded terrible if it were not competing with the sound of my men and the men of Bayeux singing. I saw the shapes in the dark. There was the glint from spear heads. Whoever had ordered them to charge had sent a solid line of spears. It should have had a greater effect than it did but the Bretons had to negotiate their own dead. The last ten men we had slain lay littered like fallen leaves before us. The first spearman stepped on to a body and then tripped. Bergil Fast Blade lived up to his name. His hand darted out and skewered the hapless spearman. There was another body to be scaled. I had Long Sword and I swung it. I heard it crack and splinter spears. Stumps were rammed at our shields. Æbbi and Harold were fearless. I heard a spear slide along Æbbi’s helmet and then the soft sigh of death as the Breton was killed by a vengeful sword.

  Long Sword was of no use once the enemy closed with us and I rammed it into the wooden bridge beside me. I drew a seax. In the close confines of the bridge it was a better and deadlier weapon. I was face to face with a Breton. He had drawn his sword. Our shields were pressed together. Behind me Haaken the Bold’s spear jabbed forward. It caught the eye of the man next to the Breton who faced me. As Haaken twisted the man was unable to move. The Breton who faced me heard the scream and his eyes widened in fear. I lowered my right arm and insinuated it between the two shields before me. I began to push up. The Breton who faced me could not move his sword arm. My seax came up and I felt it touch something hard. The man had scale mail. I pushed harder. The seax was sharp enough to shave me. It tore through the leather bindings of the scales and moved up through the padded shirt. I pushed harder and the tip touched flesh. I knew that for blood dripped down my hand. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. A seax is a ripping weapon. I tore from side to side eviscerating the warrior. Blood and entrails fell and covered my hand. I withdrew my seax. The two dead men were pinned before us by the press of dead bodies. Their shields were held in place by leather straps fastened to lifeless hands. I saw that there was another Breton to my right. My hands were sticky with blood. I raised my hand to the right and punched sideways. The seax struck the Breton fighting Æbbi. Then it entered his side and he roared. As he turned to look at me Æbbi headbutted him and I drove the seax deeper into his flesh. I must have struck something vital for he went limp.

  It was a bizarre situation. The four of us held five dead bodies before us. The Bretons could not get at us for there were too many dead on the ground for them to push at us. They had many more men than we did but we were a solid mass of men and metal. The sides of the bridge protected us and they could not move us. A Breton voice shouted, “Push!”

  I laughed for it had no effect whatsoever. I slipped my seax into my left hand and as a spear was jabbed over the dead men towards me I grabbed it behind the spear head. I pulled backwards and the man lost his grip. I quickly reversed it and punched over the dead men. I towered over the Bretons and I was stabbing downwards. I hit something. Pulling back my arm I jabbed again and again. I had no idea what I struck. All that I saw was a sea of helmeted faces.

  A horn sounded and I heard an order, “Pull back and reform!”

  As the pressure went the five dead bodies slid to the ground. They formed a barrier. I would leave it there for the next attack would not be able to get close to us. My men began to bang their shields and to cheer. I joined in. Egil’s voice was in my ear, “Lord, a message has been passed forward. Pái Skutalsson brought it. Our wounded are within Bayeux. Lord Sámr Oakheart says we can withdraw within the walls if we wish.”

  “No. We hold the bridge and we can make them bleed here! We will stay but ask him for ale! The men will be thirsty!”

  Just then I heard the thunder of hooves and to the east horns sounded. Bergil laughed, “That will be Bagsecg. It is so dark that the Bretons will have no idea how many men attack.”

  The attack by our horsemen bought us enough time to dress our lines and to be handed fresh spears from inside Bayeux. We drank ale and we waited. The sounds of battle in the distance receded. If Bagsecg had done as I had asked then he would have hit and run. Then there was silence. It was not complete silence. The Bretons were moving but they were not forming for an attack. There were moans from wounded men who had not managed to fall back. I could hear them trying to crawl through the corpses of their comrades. Some would join them all too soon. There was no further attack that night. We were all weary but as dawn broke a slight breeze came from the west and the red standard held by Egil fluttered above my head. As it did so there was a cheer from the walls behind us. We had survived the night and we still held the bridge. Now we had a long day to wait for Sven Blue Cheek.

  I reached into my pouch and took some dried venison. I began to chew. I would fool my stomach into thinking it had had a full meal. As the sun’s rays became stronger I saw that the Bretons were arrayed some three hundred paces from us. Either King Alan had an enormous army or he had gathered it from around the walls to face me. A horn sounded and I saw the King and one of his lords dismount, take off their helmets and walk towards us. They wanted to speak!

  Chapter 9

  Handing my shield to Egil I said, “Bergil, come with me. We must have hurt him that he wishes to speak with me.”

  Harold grumbled, “Watch for treachery, lord.”

  I sheathed Long Sword and handed my helmet to Harold, “Fear not I know a snake when I see one.”

  We walked forward. My long stride quickly brought us a hundred paces from our men. We arrived there at the same time as the Bretons. I had met Alan of Vannes before. I did not like him. He had been unheard of when Salomon had been Count and after a vicious civil war he had merged as the new count. The Emperor had granted him the title of King and I was certain that he had not won the crown and the title fairly.

  He smiled the hollow smile which is on the lips and not in the eyes. “I see you have not lost your touch Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson. You are well named, Long Sword.”

  “And you have not lost your touch either, Alan of Vannes, you manage to avoi
d drawing your sword and putting yourself in danger.”

  I said it loud enough for my words to carry to his men. He coloured. “I would have you gone from my land!”

  “Your land? We took this from the Franks. When my brother gave it to you it was not his to give. It is ours.”

  “I will tell you what I will offer, Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson. Have your people leave the strongholds they occupy and I will allow them to leave unharmed. Keep Bayeux. I do not desire it.”

  I laughed, “I care not what you desire. If you wish those strongholds then take them. When you wrest our swords from our dead hands then you may crow. Until then either draw your blades or leave.”

  “This handful of men and the tiny band of horsemen you brought will not save you. We slaughtered many of your warriors.”

  “And paid a high price amongst your own men.” I was guessing but I saw that my words had hit home. “And you have enemies! The problem with carrion is that they cannot be trusted. Even now the King of Frankia and the Emperor are plotting with the Count of Anjou in Paris. What will you do when Anjou attacks in the south and we still remain in the north? Will you be squeezed like a piece of ripe fruit?”

  My barbed arrow had struck home and he became angry. “You are neither Frank nor Breton! This is not your land! When your folk lived on Raven Wing Island you should have been squashed as insects.”

  “Perhaps but we were not and now we grow in strength. Even your Emperor and the King of the Franks deals with us. It was Charles who gave me the title of Lord of Rouen. He gives out titles like minor favours. They keep him in power and they are meaningless.”

  “I am King!”

  “You are King so long as the Emperor says so. Now, Alan of Vannes, the sun is rising do you and I fight to settle this? Shall we save unnecessary bloodshed and fight man to man?” He actually recoiled. “I thought not. Then either leave or bring on your men. I have seen them in the dark. I would like to slaughter them in the daylight. Make sure they empty their breeks before they fight. I like not the smell of human dung when I fight!”