Visigothic_The Barbarians Of Midgard

by Jay P Newcomb

  “But I have not seen my Norn in years. Great Thor!” protested the Queen.

  “She will come, Small One. She will come when needed the most,” replied Thor.

  The Gwynnian Scythe was itself to become a Gothic Legend, for it was forged for her and her alone, and those of her progeny worthy to wield it in honour. The thunder crashed again and the lightning flashed in great balls of fire as Thor struck the clouds with his great hammer! He and Wotan soon vanished without a single trace. All of Nineveh was troubled and fear gripped its evil empire.

  The Gwynnian Scythe measured one yard in total length and the forge master had folded the blade 200 times. On the blade, written in Runes, were the words, “For to Guard thine innocent”. The handle was made from the finest cedar of Lebanon while the hand-guard was in the shape of a disc and was plated in gold. The hilt or butt of the weapon was shaped like a hexagon and in the tip was a huge red ruby. It too had a rune; the Queen’s rune, which means, a gift. For her heritage was kindness and generosity, love and loyalty, strength and courage.

  The secret of the cause of the storm and the true reason for the Getic visitation in Nineveh remained in the shadows, and not only was the Tervingian and the Gwynnian Scythe forged, but many other legendary and noble blades as well. Not only were these brought forth, but also the finest javelins and spears, poleaxes and short axes, together with the mace and fine armour. Even tridents and staves were made. No more would the Getic weaponry break before the onslaught of the Kings of Scythia and Cimmeria! Now Sigurd and his people could return north and be well armed in the face of their tormentors, who wished either to enslave the Getic women, and slaughter the men and steal their land! True, there would still be many armed with bronze, but at least now there was a fighting chance.

  King Sigurd the Good and his Getic tribesmen made for Tervingia that very night. Days upon days of travel northward went they; through the Vannic Kingdom and back across the lands of the Hurrians and the Sons of Togarmah. Past the mountains of Ararat and through the great passes of the Lofty Mountains where dwell the race of Goblins, and thence down to the shores of the Hyrcannian Sea where the smell of sea salt tickled their noses and the sound of the sea birds sang in their ears like a chorus out of heaven. They continued onward, avoiding the Castle of Yervanduni, ruled over, it was said, by a strange Magician Queen called Chandra of the Mirrors.

  Among all the bands of the Gomerians, the Getic were fine horsemen and took good care of their animals. They were fine horse archers as well as huntsmen, who had perfected the art of the chase and could bring down even the mighty Mastodon and its cousin the Mammoth. In Midgard there were still Dragons about as well and these vicious lizards came in two kinds, the flying bird-beaked drake, and the Running Fire Dragon, which stood on back legs and ran like the wind! Its mouth was full of razor teeth and it was the scourge of all the tribes of Midgard! There were as well attack packs of a smaller Dragon species known as a Raptor Dragon. There were as well Wyverns and Griffins in those days and after. Even the fierce Scythians and Cimmerians were terrified of being attacked by these reptiles, and all races were ever vigilant. Especially when on the Mastodon hunt, for Running Fire Dragons and Raptor Dragons will just as soon wait till men have done all the hard work of bringing down such a massive animal and then steal it from him! As well, the flying Drakes with their leathery wings and bird-beaked heads with a great horn facing the rear of its head, will swoop into a camp of men, Elves or anyone else, seizing upon their horses and the children. Flying dragons will take them away to their hideous rookeries upon high, rocky cliffs and consume them alive! But King Sigurd held no hate for them, for they were but beasts of the earth. They did what they did only for food, just as did wolves and the sabre-toothed cat. It was men, however, such as the Scythians as well as creatures like the Gargoyles, Ogres, Goblins and Centaurs, for whom he held the uttermost contempt! For these vile things did their evil deeds out of the lust and wickedness which lay within their innermost being.

  Chapter III

  Slaughter Wolves

  From the Skald’s Tale:

  When our Getic ancestors arrived back at the south bank of the River Alontas, the King’s Thane Krone Wachen (Crown guards) came to him with a grave report. Gedron, chief of Staff to King Sigurd and the Queens’s twin brother, was a loyal warrior and childhood friend of King Sigurd. They had grown up together in the land along the west shores, hills and prairies of Hyrcannian Sea, and had laughed together, drank together much ale in the Mead Hall, and indeed suffered together. The two of them as boys had faced down a fierce Raptor Dragon, and once they brought down a mighty mammoth when but age twelve, driving it over a cliff. The whole band had come out and carved the animal and there was meat for all. Gedron’s twin sister, the beautiful red-raven-haired Gwynnalyn, had been the childhood love of Sigurd, and when the age was proper, the eighteen-year-old Prince Sigurd and Lady Gwynnalyn were bonded in holy marriage. She became a great, wise and highly respected Getic Queen in the years that followed. Her mighty father, the great Lord Volsung, chief Ealdorman of the nation, had trained his beloved daughter right alongside her twin brother Gedron in the art of war and she had been endowed with the respected title of Shield Maiden. She was a warrior able to match any man in sword skills and horsemanship. Her archery skills and ability with the sling were legendary among all bands of the Tervingian people.

  L ord Gedron Volusungsson was a tall man and was the Queen’s twin brother, and held the position of Army Chief of Staff. He had a short beard and his red-raven hair was long and wavy. He wore chain-mail and was armed with axe and sword as well as a long-bow and six daggers. Like all other Getic men, he wore trousers and soft leather boots made from deer hides and fur. The men wore belts slung over their shoulders which held the sheath containing their sword. “My good King and brother, I bring dire word! Scythian Slaughter-Wolves approach! Maybe 100 of them on horseback! They’re lightly armed with their bows and riding in fast by way of the river valley!”

  King Sigurd turned to Queen Gwynnalyn and their eyes met with a look of deep and intense love. “Prepare the village for heavy attack! Remember our plan, My Heart. Lord Gedron, have Ergbold sound the alarm horns and gather all the warriors! We are back in our land a day and these raiders begin to think it is like the days of old! Not so, Brother Gedron! Let us go forth on horse and slay them with the edge of the sword!”

  The deep bay of the alarm horns could be heard as the warriors girded their swords, slung their bows and ran to their horses. The King’s Thanes, the Krone Wachen, were all around him, as were the entire Witan of Ealdormen. Six of these were assigned to the Queen. Her long purple dress was no impediment to her as she buckled down her sword belt. She wore the same style of boots as did all Getic men and women. Her deep blue-green eyes flashed with the fire of sky and oh how beautiful they were. A swift wind came up and blew her dark red-raven, waving locks of thick hair, which flowed over her shoulders and down her back, around her thin face, which was specked with small freckles across the bridge of her nose. She called to her sister Greta, a tender princess of fifteen, who was small and thin and whose long raven hair matched the length of her sister’s. “Greta! Find mother and father and our small brother! Be quick about it, before the Slaughter-Wolves come!”

  Greta’s royal blue eyes met her sister’s in acknowledgement, and she headed to the east end of the camp, where their father, fifty-year-old Volsung, had been scouting the ground for the reconstruction of the King’s new Mead Hall here in Wodenburg. Little brother Sigmund, also called “Siggy”, age twelve, was there as well. At that moment, Greta saw their father and Sigmund running towards them with their mother Gerda following along beside them. Sigmund was a thin boy who stood about five feet four inches and had long red-raven hair that flowed to his shoulders and which was tied into a ponytail. He had his mother by the hand as they ran towards the centre of the camp in the weed choked and charred ruins of Wodenburg. The wind blew again as the three of them met Greta. The Than
e Krone Wachen (Thane Crown Guards) soon had all of them gathered with the rest in the centre, where people were busy placing their carts into a defence circle in the burned ruins of Wodenburg, based upon an outcropping of boulders.

  Volsung said to Siggy, “Warrior! Guard your mother and sisters and stand firm here!”

  Their father, the great Warlord, Volsung, ran to the warriors and other Ealdormen who were rallying with the King and his Thanes. Soon 100 Getic horsemen and 150 footmen were battle-ready!

  King Sigurd placed his helmet on his head as he sat on the back of his horse, Yggdrasil. It was a fierce-looking one indeed. It was rounded on the top with two horns protruding from the sides. It had a face-shield that lowered down over eyes and nose, but stopped short of the mouth. The holes for his eyes were shaped like bats’ wings. The Getic horsemen formed up in a line as the alert horns continued to blare! Lord Gedron, as well, donned his helmet, which was like the King’s, except that having a round top it came to a point and the eyes of the face-shield were shaped like cat’s eyes and had no horns. The rest of the King’s Generals and Thanes wore the same style of helmet as Lord Gedron’s; however, theirs were painted jet black. The remaining cavalry wore pointed helmets with similar face-shields, and Getic footmen wore the same. But whereas the cavalry wore chain-mail armour, the footmen were more heavily shielded with leaf-style armour or whatever they could get their hands on. These Gomerians were in no way rich and what little they had they had to cling to and fight for. And fight they did this day, so that the Lords of Scythia could no longer call them subjects!

  The Scythian riders rode forward bedecked in their armour and weaponry. The Scythians were notoriously barbaric and aggressive warriors. They “fight to live and live to fight” and to drink the blood of their enemies mingled with wine in skull goblets using the scalps as napkins. Ruled by small numbers of closely allied elites, the Scythians had a reputation for archery, and many gained employment as mercenaries. Scythian elites had Kurgan tombs: high barrows heaped over chamber-tombs of larch-wood – a deciduous conifer had special significance as a tree of life-renewal, for it stands bare in winter. Scythians also had a reputation for the use of barbed and poisoned arrows of several types, for a nomadic life centred on horses – “fed from horse-blood”, according to Herodotus the Hellene – and for skill in guerilla warfare. Their Lord, Korgan-Tal, knew that the rebellious Getic outnumbered him. But always in the past his riders on their pale horses had driven all before them in slaughter array!

  Korgan-Tal shouted just before the attack, “Arise o ye Slaughter-Wolves! The scum Sigurd has returned from whence he travelled! Now we shall make him bow the knee or lose his head as my drinking goblet, so now attack!”

  With an awful drone rising low at first from the pits of their throats and rising to a loud crescendo, the Scythians charged forth. Though hearing the sounds of the Getic horns and knowing that they had lost the element of surprise, Lord Korgan-Tal, General of the Scythian Hordes of King Idanthrsus, pressed relentlessly onward to battle’s dark din! Only on this day they were far from a horde as the Barbaric Idanthrsus had spread his armies out over a wide area, leaving his chief general with only a small raiding and reconnaissance unit.

  King Sigurd faced his men and said, “Warriors of Getica! Sons of Great Terving! Those who remember King Rothgar! We stand now once more against our bloodthirsty enemies! We are free men! Idanthrsus will no longer have our wives and our heads as goblets and the day will be ours! We have new strong weapons, so let us stand here on this day of thunder and say to our enemies that we will not submit to tyranny! We will not let you take our infants for spear bait! If needs be we shall die, but in doing so we shall live free and die well! Beat your shields with the hilts of your swords, my brothers, for we ride this day to win peace and freedom from Idanthrsus! Let the Midgard War begin! What say you, brothers?”

  The Getic warriors began beating their shields in unison and chanting, “Sigurd! Sigurd! Sigurd! Sigurd!”

  Behind the fortified circle of wagons and carts up in the ruins, the Queen shouted to her husband, “Be brave, my hunter! All of us now join the chant!” She drew the Gwynnian Scythe and held it high in the air and shouted, “Sigurd! Sigurd, Sigurd!”

  Greta was shaking with fear, but drew courage when her dear sister looked at her and smiled. She too joined the chorus of, “Sigurd! Sigurd! Sigurd!”

  Sigmund saw their father now near the King with the rest of the Witan of Ealdormen as everyone chanted.

  “All footmen, defend the stockade! All horsemen, come with me!” shouted the King. As they rode forward, the King turned to Lord Gedron and said, “The Slaughter-Wolves have erred today. We outnumber them and we have trained hard. Ride you around out of their sight behind the ridge on the north. I will advance to meet them head-on. Whoever the Scythian Thane is today will assume that this is all we have. When the battle is joined and it appears we are driven back, then you will come from their rear and we will have them as if in the jaws of a Dragon. Schnell! [Hurry!]”.

  Korgan-Tal’s men advanced at full gallop down the valley and were hoping that they could break into the Getic camp and destroy it, as they had done before to the fortress of Wodenburg. They would then rain down a shower of arrows on the Getic counter-attack from their world-renowned bows, which were shaped in the form of a backward number three. The strings were made from the guts of sabre-toothed tigers and mountain lions.

  “There he is, my Slaughter-Wolves! It is the Getic King himself! See and know him by his armour, so that you leave him to me! I myself will take his head to our King and all the rest of these Gomerian Thralls will think again before starting a rebellion!” shouted Korgan-Tal.

  The Getic horses were well rested and fresh, while those of Korgan-Tal were tired and winded. His over-confidence this day was legendary, much to the chagrin of his adviser, Kagan the Ugly, a man of misshapen eyes and whose face had a huge burn scar on his left cheek, and whose teeth were broken up and stained green-yellow. He had a nose with a severed end that made him resemble a pig. This evil man had tried to warn Korgan-Tal about the risk and advised that they should not attack. “My Lord Tal, we must not do this now! Wait! For this Sigurd is ready and in greater numbers are his men this day. We have not the advantage, my Lord Tal, and the King has said to wait. To wait if we find the rebel Sigurd!”

  “No, Kagan, we must take these Tervingians now before Sigurd can join forces with Osrik! The Gargoyles have told us that Sigurd brings advanced new weapons and we must stop them now! If Sigurd joins with Osrik on the Rha, there will be nothing to stop all our subjects from joining them. If all the Gomerians, the Issedones, Thyssagetae and Massagetae join the Gepid and Getic Kings, nothing will stop these Tervingians from killing our bands from the great River Rha to the River Danu. Sigurd could even retake Helmgard and free the Gutthiuda Thralls. We have had to spread out to find grass and game and this must end here! Now and today, Scythes! We continue the attack!”

  The battle was joined as the horsemen of the Getic swept headlong into the charging Scythians! The Scythians were fierce and well trained and lived for the glory of battles such as these, in spite of the horrid, painful death that one experiences when being dismembered, carved or disembowelled by edged weaponry.

  Lord Gedron and the Thanes were at the forefront with King Sigurd and the dust rose into clouds over the battlefield and the clanking sounds of weapon on weapon and the cries of the screaming wounded filled the air. Back in the rudimentary stockade which sheltered all the Getic children, the chanting stopped and an eerie silence came over all of them.

  Hearing the not-too-distant sound of the battle, Queen Gwynnalyn could take no more. She turned to her guards and said, “Get my horse Gullfaxi! Now go quickly!”

  Gauron the Thane stuttered, “But, my Queen, King Sigurd said…”

  The Queen tilted her head slightly to the left side and with a very stern look and a resounding shout declared, “Now! Or I’ll take out my dagger and make of you a Eun
uch!”

  She saw Gauron’s eyes widen in fear through the eye-holes in his face-shield and, as he turned and ran to do her bidding, the Queen turned and saw Young Prince Sigmund smiling at her and nodding his head, slowly from left to right, and Greta was laughing.

  At this moment, Queen Gwynnalyn looked back at her little brother and said, “Sigmund, send word to Thane Thorgau in charge of the footmen. Tell all Axemen and Archers to await my signal!”

  Sigmund turned and followed her orders.

  Captain Gauron was soon there with the Queen’s Mare Gullfaxi (Golden Mane) and the other Thanes, and Prince Sigmund secured her into a coat of chain-mail. Then she donned her own helmet, which was like unto that of the King, and leaped onto the back of her golden mare. Over the circle of carts the mare leaped with the Queen astride and the Gwynnian Scythe secure in her strong left hand and her shield in the other, steering the horse with her knees! This Queen was a Shield Maid – a mighty female Getic Warrior and hunter and beloved of her husband, as was he to her.

  Korgan-Tal tried and tried but could not get at King Sigurd. Fighting and slashing like a demon and still the Getic King was not within his reach! His rage blinded him to reality. He had walked into a trap.

  “The Getic are retreating! Kill them all and spare none! When we take their camp I will find their sucklings and impale ten on my sword!” shouted Korgan-Tal.

  “Give ground now, brothers! Fall back slowly! Hornsman! Sound the signal!” shouted King Sigurd.

  Ergbold the Hornsman raised the ram’s horn to his lips and blew the signal. The King’s contingent began fighting a rearguard action, falling back towards Wodenburg.

  “We have them on the run, oh Slaughter-Wolves!” shouted Kagan the Ugly.

  Queen Gwynnalyn met the Army half-way between the village and the battlefield. “It’s the Queen! What is she doing here? My sister is mad!” declared Lord Gedron to the King.