Gods of War

by C. R. May

  Away to his right the bole of a tree lay where it had fallen from the headland above, its shattered branches a spear clad hedge, and Eofer backed towards it as he prepared to make his last stand. With a roar of triumph the Danish warriors finally shattered the English line in two, the duguth backing towards their lord as they clustered into a knot of shields, spears and swords, preparing to fend off their rampant fiend for as long as they were able. Hemming and Finn stood shoulder to shoulder before the branches of the tree, taking up position to cover the retreat of their lord as Eofer called across to the now isolated youth and the Danes wheeled to face him. ‘Get back to the ship. Tell Eadward to leave now!’

  The way now open more Danes were funnelling down onto the beach, and Eofer’s small hopes of survival were finally dashed as the clarion call of a war horn sounded and more Danes appeared on the cliff top above. He threw a mournful look at the English youth, now clustered in their own shield burh, ordering them away with an impatient jerk of his head. More than a few of them had shown the potential to grow into useful warriors, men who would be sorely needed if the English were to plant their roots firmly in the new land. If they were to be his final gift to his people it would have to be enough.

  The horn sounded again, more distant this time, and Eofer narrowed his eyes in surprise as he saw the Danes begin to back off. Now they were streaming away from the beach, hurrying back up the defile as the war horn’s urgent call trailed away.

  Eofer and Hemming shared a look of disbelief as the last of the Danes hesitated at the horse barrier. The Danish leader turned back and called across to the bemused knot of Englishmen.

  ‘I am Ubba silk beard.’

  Eofer pushed through the tangle of branches and heft his shield.

  ‘I am Eofer king’s bane; let Woden choose between us, here on the sand.’

  Ubba’s eyes widened at the revelation and he took a pace forward. As Eofer watched, the Dane’s companion spoke at his side before spitting into the sand. ‘The hall burner,’ he snarled. ‘I hoped that it was you when I saw the war banner.’ The horn sounded once again and Ubba grimaced. ‘Another time, hall burner,’ he snarled as he made the sign to avert evil, turned and hurried away.

  Within moments the Danes were gone, leaving behind them clusters of wonderstruck Englishmen who knew that they should be dead. Hemming spoke at his side, and Eofer snorted as they watched the long low shape of the Hwælspere begin to harden from the mist as she edged back to shore. ‘So, this is Valhall.’ He kicked at the trunk, screwing up his face as he looked about them. ‘I have to admit that it’s a bit of a disappointment, lord.’

  5

  The lookout in the bow turned back with a look of horror, cupping his hands to his mouth. ‘Two sail, bearing up from the South.’

  Eadward and Eofer exchanged a look and hurried forward as the Hwælspere edged out of the bay.

  ‘How close?’

  The lookout glanced southwards before turning back with a grimace, the concern etched upon his features obvious to all. ‘Too close, lord.’

  The thegns reached the bows and clasped the forestay as they peered around the headland.

  Eofer spoke first. ‘They are really moving!’

  Half a mile away a brace of dragon ships were breasting the waves, their sails sheets of beaten copper as they caught the early morning sun.

  Eadward was already striding the length of the ship, bawling out his orders as crewmen scurried to and fro, shaking free the snake ship’s own sail and sheeting it home.

  Eofer hurried aft as the first wisps of wind rounded the headland to worry the weather vane at the masthead, the long sealskin tassels at its base flicking to the North and safety. The great sail fluttered as the crew hauled at the braces, angling the yard, hunting the wind, but Eofer had seen just how close the enemy were and he harboured no illusions. As he passed amidships he spoke to the upturned faces of his men. ‘Clean your weapons and hone the blades. We are not done fighting yet.’

  One look at the stern faces of Eadward and his steersman confirmed that they too were of the same opinion. He pulled a face as he came up. ‘I am sorry, I should have abandoned the raid as soon as we became lost in the fog. If we had returned earlier none of this would have happened.’ Eadward gave a snort of irony, despite the tension. ‘From what I could see, you were lucky to return at all, Eofer. We could barely make out the prow from the steering platform last night, I doubt that we could have left the bay much earlier even if you had. Death by weather!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll not be the first scipthegn it will claim, nor the last.’

  The sail began to fill as the ship reached the mouth of the bay and Eadward ordered his men to arm. The headland tapered to the East, the treelined ridge reaching out into the waters which the Danes called Eyrarsund to end in a rocky shelf, as the men of the Hwælspere unshipped their oars and lashed them to the crosstrees. Wulfhere, Eadward’s own weorthman, came up as the steersman hauled the great paddle blade to his chest and the curving prow swung to the North. ‘Are we fighting or running, lord?’

  Eadward snorted. ‘Both I should think. We will try to put some distance between us, but they are already moving at full speed. If we can keep at least a furlong ahead we may make it out of the bay at least.’ He patted the wale affectionately. ‘If we can give her enough sea room the old girl might give them the slip yet.’ He shrugged. ‘We can’t hide up on the opposite shore any longer, not now that we are moving about in full daylight. We shall have to clear Eyrarsund and make a break for the open waters of The Cat Gate and home. Let us hope that they are content with seeing us off.’

  Wulfhere nodded and instinctively tightened the strap of his helm as he shot his thegn a smile and a suggestion. ‘It would be nice to fight under our own war flag if it comes to it, lord.’

  Eadward returned the smile. ‘You are right, run her up. We are done with skulking in the shadows.’

  As the duguth stalked away, the pair returned their gaze to the promontory off the steerbord beam. The Hwælspere was heeling to bæcbord as the wind began to fill the sail, silvered pearls shimmering in the air as the big snaca left the calmer waters and headed out to sea.

  The cry of a gull drew Eofer’s eye away from the headland for an instant and when he looked back they were there, curving to seaward as the Danish steersmen skirted the shoals. He turned back as hope kindled within him, but the smile of deliverance fell from his features as he saw the worried looks on the faces of Eadward and his own steersman. Noticing the look, the ship thegn threw his head to the North. ‘The northern arm of the bay is far longer than that on the southern side. We can only hope that we can clear the promontory there before the Danish ships cut us off.’

  Eofer looked for’ard, his eyes flicking to left and right as he calculated the speed of the ships and the distance between them. The Hwælspere was aimed perfectly at the first patch of calmer water after the wind blown chaos of the shoals. Hnæf, Eadward’s steersman, was handling the snaca impeccably, but they were all experienced men of the sea and each of them knew that it would be a close run thing if the Englishmen were to escape the trap.

  The ship finally emerged from the lee of the southern headland, the rigging creaking and moaning as the sail finally filled and the ship bounded forward. Eofer turned to Eadward as he began to untie the peace bands from his sword. ‘Where do you want me?’

  Eadward tore his gaze from the rapidly closing dragon ships. ‘Take your men and defend forward of the mast, I will fight aft.’ He pulled a wry smile. ‘Let us hope that they attack on one side, Eofer, we will only be outnumbered two to one. If they double up…’ Eadward let the sentence hang in the air and Eofer nodded that he understood. If they could fight off an attack as Hnæf worked to free the hull and reach the open sea they would have a chance. If the Danish steersmen came at them on either beam the situation would quickly become hopeless. ‘If that does happen Eofer,’ Eadward continued quietly, ‘we will have to split our forces and cover both sides. I will defend
Hnæf, he will be our only chance.’

  Eofer nodded that he understood, and the thegns gripped forearms as they wished each other gods-luck.

  Hopping down from the steering platform, Eofer passed through the length of the ship, flicking a look up at the white dragon flag as he did so. Writhing away to the North, the blood red war banner was aflame as it caught the early morning sun, and Eofer chuckled to himself despite the grimness of the moment as he watched it curl and snap. If there had been any doubt in the minds of the Danish crews as to the identity of this longship in their waters, that would now be quashed. The die was cast, everyman aboard the three ships now knew that it was more likely than not that they would be fighting for their lives before they had broken their fast that day. If it was his wyrd to die this morning, he would go to Valhall in fine company, fighting savagely beneath the flag he loved.

  His duguth came to his side as the ship bounded the waves, and he shot them all a smile as he realised just how liberating it felt not to be the one making life or death decisions on behalf of others. ‘If the Danes come up, we are to fight before the mast. If they double up on us, Thrush and Ozzy will take the bæcbord and I will fight the steerbord with Octa.’ He cast an eye over the youth who were busily arming themselves at the foot of the mast as he worked through the dispositions in his mind. Finn was already set, rolling his shoulders as he stared outboard at the oncoming fiend. Eofer gave a short snort. ‘I will keep Finn to my left, as before. He did well. The dark twins and Rand are with me, Thrush you get Cæd, Porta, and the wolves. Spearhafoc can do her own thing as soon as they are within range of her bow.’ They all pulled a smile at Eofer’s description of the youths, Beornwulf and Grimwulf. They had become the best of friends, and their thegn’s nickname for the pair always raised a smile.

  Eofer peered around the great curve of the prow at the open sea beyond. It was close now, but a look to steerbord confirmed his fears. The dragons were leaping the waves, their bows enveloped in a curtain of spray as their sails billowed, every inch of wool straining as the crew worked the braces to capture the last breath of wind. Above them low clouds the colour of lead were hurrying northwards, their flanks painted pink by the rising sun as gulls began to gather for the feast. The Hwælspere would be first to clear the headland and Eadward would have his furlong lead, but little more than that long furrow would separate the longships when Hnæf put the helm about and pointed her bow to the North. That turn would bleed off their momentum and the Danes would be upon them. Eofer looked to Hemming as they finally cleared the headland and the ship began her turn. ‘Get them into position, Thrush,’ he said with a nod; ‘see you on the other side.’

  As his weorthman chivvied the men into line, Eofer took up position at the centre. The speed sapped away, and Eofer’s heart sank as he cast a look astern, past the crewmen as they belayed the braces and hurried off to fetch their own shields. The Danes were dividing, splitting up as they bore down on their victim, and Eofer watched as Hemming began to split their meagre force to meet the onslaught. Finn appeared at his side, and he shot the lad what he hoped was a smile of encouragement before turning his gaze back to the South.

  The stern post of the closest ship was just disappearing beyond the Hwælspere’s own wooden tower as it swept inshore. A ship’s length behind, the wide curving prow of its companion rose and fell in an explosive shower as it crashed through the waves, the beast head which capped its elegant neck snarling defiance at the interlopers who had caused so much destruction in their land.

  Eofer heft his shield as the ships began to draw level and the first spears began to crisscross the air between them. He prepared his own daroth, feeling for the point of balance as he hunkered behind the linden board and prepared to face the dance of spears for the second time that morning.

  The crewman grunted as another of the mould covered rocks disappeared overboard and reached back to take another. They could all feel the movement beneath their feet as the ship lightened stone by stone, and Eofer watched as Eadward moved the men about the deck as he desperately sought to float the ship.

  A short while earlier a horseman had appeared briefly on the headland, disappearing within moments when he saw the red flag of Engeln flying proudly from the mast top of the stranded ship below. It was obvious to them all that the rider had gone to fetch spearmen, and they were frantically ditching ballast before he returned. Hemming approached his lord, the look of disbelief still etched upon his face from the previous encounters with the Danes that morning. ‘Perhaps he has gone to fetch help?’ he joked, jerking his head towards the now empty clifftop as another of the great rocks splashed into the waters alongside.

  Eofer laughed, but he too was as puzzled by the behaviour of their foe that day. He cast a look to the North, shielding his eyes against the glare as he watched the twin sails of the dragon ships receding. He opened his mouth to reply but could only gasp as he shook his head in disbelief.

  The Danish ships, with the English at their mercy, had swept either side of them in a shower of spears before carrying on, beating their way northwards under full sail. Coming hard on the heels of the strange behaviour of Ubba silk beard and his men on the beach, the English raiders could only marvel at their good fortune as they fought to put as many miles between themselves and the coast of Daneland before the spell which seemed to have been cast on the inhabitants was broken. The only dark spot in their fortune so far that day had come with the death of Eadward’s steersman, Hnæf. Despite the efforts of his thegn and others to protect the man with their own shields it was obvious that the Danes had targeted the duguth. Raised above the level of the deck, the steersman had attracted the majority of the spear shafts which had been launched against the English ship as the Danes had swept past. Assailed from either side Eadward and his remaining duguth had been simply overwhelmed by the attack, and before they could regain control the ship had pitched up on a rocky outlier. It was highly likely that the experienced seaman had been picked out for special attention in the fleeting attack, and all the men there knew that it could mean only one thing. As soon as the Danes had taken care of the urgent business which was drawing them away, they would be back to settle the score with the raiders who had been plaguing their eastern shore.

  A cry from the lookout in the bows drew their attention and the crew paused in their work to peer anxiously northwards. The Danish ships seemed to have reached their goal, the tall prows swinging to the West as they began to enter a bay half a league distant, and the crew of the Hwælspere redoubled their efforts as the slimy rocks continued to splash overboard.

  Eadward had had the best view of all, watching the dragon ships from the raised steering deck as they made their turn, and the crewmen paused at their work as he called his orders. ‘Leave that now, we have shed enough ballast. The ship will be difficult enough to handle as it is. We can’t wait for the tide to float us off, they could turn back at any moment.’ He unbuckled his belt and began to tug his woollen serc over his head as he called down the ship. ‘Over the side everyone; we can lighten the ship of our own weight and work her free at the same time.’

  Within moments the deck was strewn with clothing as the crew began to lower themselves into the sea alongside. Eofer felt the hull begin to rise as more and more men slipped overboard, and he began to shed his own clothing as he ordered his war band to help. Spearhafoc had settled herself onto a coil of rope to enjoy the spectacle, but the smile fell from her face as Eofer called across. ‘And you, princess; nobody in my war band is too precious to get their arse wet. Strip off and over the side.’ Leaving the girl to her misery, Eofer lowered himself into the waters of Eyrarsund. To his relief the sea barely lapped at his waist and he worked his shoulder into the curve of the hull, falling into the rhythmic sway of the crewmen as they sweated their ship into deeper water. Spearhafoc dropped into the waters ahead of him, and he slapped the side of the hull to show her where to push. ‘Here, put your shoulder into the place where the line of the hull curves d
own to the keel. It’s called the flare,’ he smiled, as he sought to distract her mind from the fact that she was the only naked female among scores of men; ‘lock it away in your word hoard, I will ask you to name it later.’

  They let the first push go as they settled into place, watching as the ship edged forward a foot before settling back onto its keel. Throwing his shoulder into the curve of the hull, Eofer waited until the Hwælspere’s crew counted down to the heave. On the cry, two score men dug their feet into the gravelly bottom and shoved forwards and upwards. The great hull slid forward several feet as the added muscle told, and Eofer waded forward, readying himself for the next push. The ship was almost free now, but a cry of warning came from the lookout in the bows and they paused as one to look fearfully towards the shore. The rider had returned, watching their efforts from the clifftop as he urged on what could only be another ship, still hidden from the eyes of the anxious English in the bay below him.

  Eadward increased the pace as he sought to free his own ship from the grip of the shallows before the unknown craft rounded the headland. It was the worst possible position to be caught in, and Eofer risked a glance aft as he sought to make eye contact with the ship thegn. He could see the indecision in his friend’s eyes as he weighed up the conflicting needs to free the ship or prepare for whatever was about to emerge from the shelter of the promontory, but a curt nod and Eofer was already hauling himself back onboard. ‘My war band, with me,’ he shouted as he slid up and over the wale to slop onto the deck like a landed fish. ‘Dress and arm, as quickly as you can!’

  One by one a line of familiar faces appeared over the side as Eofer struggled into his trews. Kicking his mail shirt to one side, he squirmed into his undershirt as the sound of his men hurriedly flinging on their own clothing whirled around him. Thrown with desperate haste onto his damp body the padded jerkin stuck fast and, blinded now, he tore desperately at it as Hemming’s incredulous voice gasped at his side: ‘what now?’