Duke of Normandy

by Griff Hosker

  “This will not end well for you, Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson!”

  “We will see.”

  I turned my back on him and walked back to my men. They banged their shields and they cheered. I noted how awkward it was for me to negotiate the bodies. The Bretons would struggle to hold their formation when they attacked. When I reached my lines, I saw that Sámr had sent out fresh bread and twenty archers. Harold Strong Arm said, “Lord Sámr thought that the archers would come as a shock to the Bretons. I hid them behind our last rank.” He handed me my helmet and some bread. It was still warm and tasted better than any bread I had ever eaten. That showed my hunger. I washed it down with the ale from my skin and then took my shield and turned.

  This time the Bretons had gathered only mailed warriors. They had shields which were a little smaller than ours and they held long spears. This would not be as easy. Bergil seemed to read my thoughts. “They have the bodies to cross, lord. They will come at us piecemeal.”

  The Bretons must have thought the same. Their warriors marched in a solid block until they reached the first of the bodies. They were a hundred and fifty paces from us. Our archers would be able to send arrows at them when they were fifty paces closer. We allowed them to remove the first bodies unhindered. The greatest number of dead lay at the edge of the bridge. They were three and four deep. They spread around the sides. It would take a brave man to remove those bodies. Emboldened by our lack of response the metal snake edged closer preceded by men without mail who scurried like ants to drag the bodies to the side. I turned, “Egil, pass the word. When I drop my sword then the archers can release!”

  “Aye lord.”

  When I raised my sword, the Bretons stopped and looked. They anticipated an attack but I just stood with Long Sword towering over the bridge. One of their leaders, in the front rank, shouted, “On!”

  The Bretons came forward. They were at the part where the bodies lay in great numbers. There were twenty men removing the bodies. The Bretons must have realised that we would have to negotiate the wall of bodies if we were to get to them and they were confident. When my sword dropped, the body carriers stopped. It was a mistake for twenty arrows plunged down. Ten bodies immediately added to the barrier. Another flight added three more bodies and then the survivors fled.

  I shouted, “Cease arrows!”

  The advance slowed. The Bretons had to keep their shields up. That protected them from arrows and enabled them to see their feet. I said quietly, as they approached, “On my command the four of us race forward and use our spears. We fall back immediately.”

  “Aye lord.”

  I would not use a spear for Long Sword would do the job as effectively as a six-foot spear. I shouted, when the Bretons were thirty paces from us, “Arrows!”

  My shout helped them to prepare and only one arrow found flesh. The warrior broke off the shaft. They came forward more confidently.

  I shouted, “Cease arrows!” The second flight had just hit shields and helmets.

  When they were ten paces from us and approaching the ground covered with bodies I shouted, “Now!” The Bretons heard the command and expected arrows. They stopped and joined their shields. In three strides I had picked my way through the bodies. I rammed Long Sword into the neck of the leader with the red plume in his helmet and tore it out sideways to bite into the neck of a second Breton. Bergil, Harold and Æbbi rammed their spears into the bodies of another three men. Spears were poked at our mail. “Back!” Even as we stepped back Bergil had managed to spear another Breton. The centre of their attack now lay dead. We made the safety of our line and the restraint of the Bretons was discarded. Even as I shouted, “Arrows!” they charged us. Some tripped and fell over the bodies. We speared and stabbed them. As arrows fell I sheathed Long Sword and took out Hrolf’s Vengeance. It would be better in the close confines of the battle to come.

  The Bretons were angry. These had been chosen as the best that the King had to offer and we had hurt them. So far they had had to lose men without the opportunity to strike back. Now they struck. A spear came at my face. I flicked up my wrist and my shield blocked the strike. I pulled back Hrolf’s Vengeance and rammed it blindly forward. I was rewarded with a cry as the razor-sharp blade found flesh. Bergil and the others jabbed their spears forward and men fell. Then a shower of javelins descended upon us. I heard a shout from behind me as one found flesh. One clanked off my helmet and a second stuck in my shield. I am a strong man and I used it as a weapon. I swung my shield from left to right. The javelin fell from the willow boards when it hit a Breton on the side of the head.

  In a battle of shield walls, it is the spears which become shattered. The heartbeat between a spear shattering and drawing a sword is the most dangerous time for a warrior. Harold Strong Arm took a spear in the side of his leg. Æbbi Bonecrusher shouted, “Get Harold to the rear. Haaken, take his place!”

  Egil used his free hand to drag back Harold. Haaken still had a spear and when he stepped forward his spear killed the exultant Breton who had speared Harold. We were now so close to the Bretons that we were face to face. The wall of dead meant that they were higher than the rest of my men. That was both a blessing and curse. Their footing was less than steady. The bodies on the bottom had been there for half a day. Some had filled with body gases and they shifted as though alive. Hrolf’s Vengeance was a good sword and was true. My grandfather had kept a tip on the blade and that found gaps in mail. I punched and I slashed. I had to endure blows to my own helmet, mail and shield, but mine were well made. I was bespattered and besmeared with blood and the guts of those I had slain.

  A horn sounded and the Bretons withdrew. The battle was not over but Alan of Vannes understood that tired men make mistakes. Perhaps he hoped that those with me would tire too. We were Viking warriors. I was tired it was true but I could fight all day if I had to. Behind me I heard the gates open as Sámr sent men with food and ale for us. We had wounded and they were taken inside too. The spear aimed at my helmet had given me another scar but it had already stopped bleeding. I did not need food but I needed the ale. My mouth was dry.

  “Was Harold badly wounded?”

  Æbbi shook his head. “He will be inside now and complaining to the healers. It was a gash to his thigh. It needed tending but within a month the limp will have gone.” My men were experts at assessing wounds. In the night attack I had lost four oathsworn. That was four too many. Harold was the best swordsman I had. He trained others. He would make William more skilled than I was.

  The Bretons had withdrawn well beyond bow range. I saw a huddle of lords around their King. We were too few to leave. If King Alan departed without inflicting serious damage to us then he would lose face with his men. He had stolen power but there were others who could shift the allegiance to another rival for the throne. He needed a victory. He needed my death. As I sat on the parapet of the bridge I saw the whole conspiracy so clearly. The three kings, Alfred, Charles and Alan were working together to rid the world of Vikings. Charles and Alan wanted to know how King Alfred had defeated the Danes. For Alfred he wanted power and influence. He wanted to rule the island of Britannia and be a major influence in Frankia. I smiled as I supped the last of the ale. That he would never do. The Land of the Wolf might not be the power it once was but Ylva Aidensdotter still lived there and her magic would help defeat the men of Wessex. My grandfather had made the choice which set the clan on this path. A man could never go back and weave again the web that made him. I envied the Clan of the Wolf. They had an ancient land which protected them and the power of a powerful witch. We did not.

  Egil pointed, “Lord, they are up to something.”

  I looked where he pointed. Half the men had departed and I heard the sound of axes and then hammering. Bergil looked at me, “It cannot be a ram. If it is then by the time it is built we will have more men here.”

  “I hope it is a ram. That way we could attack them at night.” I looked again. The work was taking place further downs
tream. I knew what they were doing. It made perfect sense. “They are building a bridge. They will out flank us.” It was so obvious that I wondered why they had not thought of it earlier and then I answered myself. They had managed to take the bridge in their first attack. They had not needed to build a second one. Our unexpected arrival had done the damage. We had been right to force march with so few men. I turned to Bergil, “Take charge here. I will go within the walls and speak with Sámr. He can see further than we can and I need to know the whole story of this disaster.”

  “Aye Lord, and Sven Blue Cheek?”

  “Sven is coming on foot and he needs as many men as he can get. Bagsecg will have kept him informed of our position. We have not yet begun to hurt. He will come and when he does he will wreak havoc amongst the enemy.”

  As I approached the gate it swung open and Sámr greeted me. “I knew that you would come, Lord.” He pointed to his stone tower as we walked into the centre of his settlement. “The men in the tower tell me that the enemy build a bridge.”

  “Aye I know. That means we have some time to prepare.”

  “Do you wish to exchange warriors? Yours have marched and fought for a long time.”

  I stopped and said quietly, “The men in your walls have seen the Bretons win. Even your warriors, Sámr Oakheart, have not tasted victory since Paris. Mine have. Let us leave them on the bridge. What happened?”

  “Ubba is badly wounded. He has lost his left leg. Finnbjǫrn is dead. He and his oathsworn held up the enemy to allow the rest to escape. Ragnar the Resolute lost many men. The messenger they sent did not come to me. Ubba did not send to Saxbjǫrn for he knew how few men he had. Lord, when you speak to him be gentle. He blames himself for the loss of so many men.”

  I turned, “Sámr, this is not a game. We do not move pieces around a board and if we lose we restart. We hold men’s lives in our hands. All that Ubba needed to do was to send me a message and stay behind his walls. They served Rurik One Ear well and they would have laughed a siege away. We have given the Bretons heart and they have seen that they can defeat Vikings. When we now go to war we must be totally ruthless. We must make their land a charnel house just to keep you and the other lords safe.” I saw that he was crestfallen. “I do not blame you but when I met with you all I thought I made it quite clear that when war came we would all act together.”

  “You did.”

  We headed to the tower. I would speak with Ubba and Ragnar before I returned to the bridge but their feelings were secondary. The battle hung in the balance. When I reached the top, I recognised Thiok the Rus. We had rescued him and two others years earlier. He was a good man and I trusted his judgement.

  He pointed, “They went to the wood where your horses were kept. I thought at first, they had spied them but they had not. They went to hew down the trees. Bagsecg sent half of his men to save the horses and the other half harassed the axemen. They rescued the horses and took them east.”

  I nodded, “Towards Sven Blue Cheek. Is there any sign of them?”

  He shook his head. “The axemen hew the trees and they are brought down out of range of our archers.”

  Sámr said, “I pulled all of the archers to guard the place we think they will cross. It is where the river narrows. The archers have the range.”

  I had enough information and I scanned the enemy lines. The tower gave a complete view of the land and I saw that to the north the siege lines were barely manned. Sámr could have led his men and destroyed the ones who were there. The bulk of the army was before us. I saw that they had horse lines well away from the siege lines. They were well guarded. Bagsecg’s attack would have forced their hand. I could now see that there were not only Bretons there were other allies. I recognised some of the standards of Aquitaine. There were other standards I did not recognise but from the mail and the helmets they were Frank or from Anjou. Fulk had told me that King Alan was trying to steal his county from under his nose. I estimated that we faced more than six hundred men. I knew not how many guarded the horses or were cutting down trees.

  “How many fighting men are within these walls?”

  He hesitated and then the old Sámr came to the fore. “Men we can rely on, less than two hundred and fifty. Men to man the walls perhaps three hundred and thirty.”

  “Then we need to hold them until Sven arrives.”

  “We will still be outnumbered.”

  I smiled, “He will not know that.” I could see that they had more logs ready. “Soon they will begin to build their bridge. I will leave you.” I pointed to the bell which hung from the tower. It was not large. “Thiok, when you spy Sven ring the bell three times.”

  “Aye lord. But they will be more than a mile away.”

  “I will know he is coming. The Bretons will not.”

  I sniffed the air. The wind was from the north. It smelled of the sea. I licked my finger to check the direction. It was from the north and east. It was perfect. I made my way down the ladder. “Will you speak with Ubba and Ragnar?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Now is not the time. I need to defeat the Bretons first.”

  As I stepped towards the gate, men began chanting my name. I waved and spoke to those I recognised. I knew that the defenders had been wavering. My arrival and our actions since then had helped to stabilise them and give them hope. All hung on the edge of a knife. At the gate I picked up the kindling which would be used to keep the brazier burning and the jug of oil used to start it. As I left the gates and walked to my men I had worked out our strategy. I glanced to the south as I crossed the bridge.

  Bergil and my lieutenants awaited me, “They have almost built the bridge but it is not yet in place. When it is they will attack here to divert us. We will have no archers to aid us. We will have to work quickly. I want the enemy bodies taking and piling over there to the south west of us. We will light this kindling and burn the bodies. The smoke will blow towards them and, I hope, add to the confusion.”

  “Confusion, lord?”

  “Our archers know where they will build the bridge. It will be at the narrow part of the river. Even with smoke they know where to send their arrows. The Bretons will think we are insulting them and they will be angry. They will try to take advantage of the fact that we have removed a barrier of bodies for them. I have but it is to allow us to attack. The smoke will help us. As soon as they advance we make a wedge and we charge their flank.”

  Bergil shook his head, “It is a risk, lord.”

  “A slight one. We have endured their attacks for long enough. More than half of the men on the bridge have yet to fight. Today they can bear the brunt of the fighting. Now hurry, daylight is burning.”

  My men worked quickly and the Bretons, three hundred paces from us, did not realise what we were doing until it was too late. My men took weapons and mail from the dead. It would allow the bodies to burn faster. It was only when Haaken the Bold used the flint to light the kindling that they realised what we were about. Broken spears and spent arrows were also used so that by the time Haaken the Bold had rejoined us the fire had caught. Flames licked and the fire crackled but it had yet to really take off. A Breton lord began to organise his men and they made a solid block to come towards us. As the wind fanned the fire so the flames took hold. Soon fat would burn and there would be smoke. From the river I heard the sound of arrows hitting wood and the screams of men who had been hit. The attack had begun. King Alan had been forced to divide his forces. That was not in his plan.

  “Wedge!”

  With Long Sword at the fore I began to march from the bridge. It would take us fifty paces to truly form up. When the Bretons saw what we intended they sounded their horn and the Breton lord ordered his men to make a shield wall and advance. I raised my sword and began a chant so that we could run at them. It was not a fast run but sixty mailed men were a considerable weight.

  The men of Rouen go to war,

  A song of death to all its foes

  The power of the horse grows an
d 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.

  The Bretons were late and they were disorganised. The smoke from the burning bodies was confusing them. I held my shield in front of me. The Breton spear which came from the smoke smashed into it and I continued on. I brought my sword over from on high and hit the warrior in the third rank. A Breton spear from the second rank rammed into my right shoulder. It was a glancing blow but it broke a link and my skin. I punched with my sword as Bergil’s spear hit the Breton in the middle. Breton horns sounded as King Alan redeployed men to face us. He could not see how many men followed me. As far as he was concerned it might be the whole of the garrison. We still had our integrity but the Breton line was in tatters. Haaken the Bold had slain the Breton lord who led them. There was a temptation to hold but a voice in my head told me that Sven Blue Cheek would not let me down. It was worth pushing on.

  We were no longer running and we had stopped chanting but we had the rhythm of war: block with the shield swing the sword, step forward. The men all around me were oathsworn and to be trusted. I did not have to worry about being attacked from the side. A warrior fighting with confidence has an edge over an enemy who does not. This time the Bretons had even ground over which to run. They did not trip but faster men reached us first and threw themselves at the handful, or so it seemed, of foolish Vikings. The training I did with William I had enjoyed when I was young. I moved my two hands as thought they were both my strongest. My shield blocked and punched. Long Sword swept in long arcs. I tore through limbs. I bent swords. I knocked one Breton to the ground as he raced towards me. I stamped my foot on his chest as I passed him.