by Kris Kramer
I ran down the stairwell and into the church to find a crowd of the city’s poor pushing through the front doors. Eadwyn and Oslac both shouted at them now, trying to keep order, and Agnes rushed in from the back to help with her own booming voice. I watched the chaos, knowing I should stay and help. But I couldn’t resist the temptation of another miracle. So I ran out the back door, across the courtyard and out onto the street.
I reached the plaza to see everyone scurrying to their homes nearby, some of them barring their doors and windows, not that it would matter to a gang of angry Vikings. The main road into town was clear except for three armored men running east, where the defenses were gathering at the walls. I chased after the soldiers. I would go to the fight, too, and see if he came to us there.
“Daniel,” I heard Pepin shout behind me, “where are you going?”
“I need to see what’s happening.” I slowed down enough to let him catch up.
“A better idea than you think,” he said. “Vikings, they love churches. Not good to be around them when they go looking for treasure.”
We ran down the main market streets, crossing from one road to another, until we reached the southeastern wall. Over a hundred men stood packed together on the ramparts in front of us, shoulder to shoulder, two lines deep, while half that number more waited below. Bardic was there, wearing chain armor, a polished helm and waving a sword about while shouting incoherently at his men. I couldn’t be sure, but I think he wore the faceplate on his helm down to cover just how completely frightened and overwhelmed he felt.
Someone on the wall told Bardic that the Vikings were moving north on foot, and he yelled at the men on the ground to reinforce the northeastern wall. They swarmed up the road, a herd of hastily armored Northumbrians, with Pepin and I following close behind. I wanted to get on the wall, to get a view of the fields surrounding the town, but there was no room to climb up here, so I would try the northeastern section along with these men.
The walls there were simple wood, sitting atop a large earthwork, with watchtowers about two hundred paces apart. The earthwork was an earthen wall created by digging a ditch, then piling the dirt on the defensive side, creating both a dip in the ground followed by a steep hill that attackers would have to navigate while defenders would rain down spears, axes and arrows on them. Wooden ramparts were built on the hill, giving the defenders an even higher defensive position. The first watchtower we passed had six men standing at the top, about two more than it was designed to hold. All of them stared off to the east, one pointing at the enemy in the distance and another, a commander of some rank, shouting down to the men below, ordering them onto the rickety walls. A few of the guards clambered up a nearby ladder, while the rest moved farther north. I held back, and motioned to the ladder, and though Pepin looked at me curiously at first, he eventually nodded in assent.
We climbed the ladder and stood on the ramparts, ignoring the stares of the guards next to us. To our east was a wide, grassy field, unencumbered by any obstacles, or even trees. A rutted stretch of mud meandered northeast from the city, cutting along the northern edge of the field, and parked a good distance down that road were two or three hundred Viking warriors, on foot, gathering into lines. Based on every story I’d been told so far, I’d expected them to be a mindless, rampaging throng of savages, but that’s not what I saw this morning. They gathered into their formation like practiced warriors. I could see the zeal they had for battle in their posture and gait, but they also showed respect for tactics and leadership. Somehow, that made them even more fearsome.
“Father?” The guard next to me pulled off his scratched and battered helm. “Will you pray with me?”
“Of course,” I said distractedly, scanning the horizon for any lone warriors approaching. I saw none, unfortunately, so I knelt down next to the guard, closed my eyes and said a prayer, not realizing until after I’d finished that two other guards had joined us. Afterwards, I made the sign of the cross and told them to go with God, for He stood with us this day. “He will protect us from the heathens.” They nodded in thanks and moved back to their spots on the wall, staring grimly ahead. I looked at the rest of the defenders, standing to either side of us, and I realized that not all of these warriors would survive this battle. The significance of the moment struck me, and I didn't feel comfortable waiting on the wall with these men. I'd come up here just to get a better view, to satiate my own curiosity. Everyone else up here was prepared to die. So, after one last look around, I left the wall, along with Pepin, and we waited below instead.
“The wood’s rotted over here,” the commander from the watchtower yelled down to some men still on the ground, gesturing wildly. “If they reach the wall when they charge, they'll tear right through it. Get extra men lined up there, now!”
As the soldiers below ran off to find reinforcements, I examined the walls myself and realized that the commander’s description might have been generous. Only some of the wood was rotted. Portions of the rest had been replaced with thatch, which could easily be torn out or burned. Pepin saw it too, and he grimaced. Before today, the walls seemed sturdy, protecting, comforting, and I never thought twice about them. Now, with my life on the line, I had little faith in them holding up against an army intending to tear them down.
“We need to hide,” Pepin said. I nodded in agreement, but I didn’t move. Not yet. My urge to see what came next overrode all thoughts of safety.
Men roared in unison from some place far outside the city, and every sound and movement around me ceased. The defenders on the walls rigidly stared off in the distance, their hands anxiously gripping their weapons. The few whose eyes I could see seemed to be either scared as they watched their enemy approach, or in awe. The roar grew louder and more ominous, and a chilling image came to me of the Viking host charging forward, their weapons high, though in truth I had no idea what a Viking charge looked like. The guards slowly inched away from the wall, their spears or swords ready but their will waning. Three bowmen were among the defenders, and all three loosed their arrows at the same time, then they fired again, and again. Some of the defenders cheered as those arrows found targets, but most of them just stood ready, tense, waiting for what might be the end of their lives.
I felt the crush of bodies without even seeing it. I heard screams, grunts, battle cries, and metal clanging against metal. The walls in front of me buckled for a moment, sending a ripple in either direction. The guards lunged forward, jabbing downward with their weapons, their own mouths crying out in defiance. One fell backward, crashing to the ground behind the wall, an axe lodged in his chest. He reached for it weakly, trying in vain to do something about it, but that effort lasted only a moment before his hands fell lifelessly to his side. Suddenly, the walls shuddered and cracked. I backed away, terrified, as blades tore through the wall, carving through the rotted wood like flesh, or ripping out pieces of thatch. One piece of wood split in half, and as it fell a pair of wild blue eyes watched me through the hole it left. They weren't as black as Caenwyld's or as crazed as Ewen, but the intensity they contained frightened me nonetheless.
"They're getting in!" I shouted to anyone who would listen. The guards on the ground had already formed into a haphazard line, and they pushed forward. The commander from the tower called out and more soldiers climbed down and formed rough lines behind the others, as they worked to defend the crumbling walls. The men in front stood side by side, overlapping their shields to form a shield wall, while those in the back readied their spears, which they would use to jab over and under the defenders in front. When the Vikings broke through the wooden wall, they would find a human wall behind it, and the fate of this city would depend on how sturdy these Northumbrians could be in the face of such ferocity. As more and more pieces of the wall fell, however, I saw an insatiable hunger on the faces of the Vikings - not hunger for food, but for spoils - and I doubted that they could be stopped.
Except by one man.
"We have to go back to th
e church," I said, turning to leave.
"No," Pepin grabbed my arm. "That will be the first place they go."
"You don’t understand. Something is about to happen."
"Daniel, you will die! Remember what happened at Lindisfarne. Do you want to be slaughtered, like them? We can escape during the battle. No one will care about two men trying to flee up river."
"The church is our sanctuary, Pepin. We will be protected there."
Pepin furrowed his brow, almost as surprised at those words as I was. I'm not sure whether I said them out of instinct, or because I honestly believed them to be true, but I felt strongly enough in them to go back and find out. Just like Rogwallow, raiders were here and ready to ravage the town, and a strange man with a demon tormenting his soul troubled me. These portents were the catalysts that would bring Arkael back, for him to protect those of us who sought shelter in the church. “You have to believe me.”
“Don’t be a fool, Daniel!”
I left my friend standing in the street and ran back to those protective stone walls. I don't know where Pepin went to hide, but I remember that at the time, I thought him weaker than I.
What a fool I was.
Chapter 15
The roads were empty and silent. Doors were barred, windows were closed, the only sound was the tumult of battle off in the distance. Even when walking the streets at night, I would see people through the windows, or hear conversations from inside homes. But not this morning. The only signs of life in the entire city were the worried eyes peeking between the slats of wooden walls.
I reached the desolate plaza and ran to the church doors to find them closed and barred. I didn’t bother shouting. I just ran around and came in through the back, which no had yet thought to lock. When I reached the nave, Eadwyn hurried to me, clearly agitated.
“Where have you been?” he nearly shouted.
“I saw the attack,” I said, panting. “The Vikings, they hit us from different directions. Some of them attacked the walls on the northeast corner, where the wood was rotting. They tore it apart and now they’re inside the city.” Eadwyn’s face turned white, and his mouth opened and then closed while he tried to think of something to say. “If they get through the defenders, they will come here. They want the silver we have, and they may kill us for it.”
Eadwyn's eyes darted to the expensive decorations hanging on the walls, ornate silver crosses, paintings, tapestries, the decorative plates, and the silver and tin chalices sitting on a wooden counter along the back wall. That was only the items on display. A small fortune in silver, jewels and irreplaceable relics could be found in our storerooms or in the tower.
“We-we-we can make the doors stronger,” he said. “We’ll put guards outside, and hide everything in the stables.”
Eadwyn rubbed his hands together tightly, squeezing the blood from his fingers. I'd never seen him like this, struggling to handle a life or death situation, and for the first time in my life, I realized I was better prepared to deal with something than him. I’d been through this terror already, and while this moment wasn’t any less daunting, I could at least think rationally. For example, I looked at the thick oaken plank used to bar the main doors, and I found myself wondering why we should even bother. I didn’t think barring the doors would stop a horde of Vikings for more than a few minutes, and it might just make them angrier if they have to fight their way in, but I didn’t tell Eadwyn that.
“I’ll find some guards to help,” I said. “Send the women away. Anywhere. Just hide them.”
Eadwyn jerked his head and called for Deaga to round up everyone she could and take them to the storerooms in the annex and lock themselves inside. I went back to the tower and looked through the windows again, searching for anyone nearby wearing both armor and the livery of the city’s guards but I found no one. I could hear the roar of men far in the distance, and trails of smoke dotted the skyline near the walls. The battle must have been ferocious, but the streets were empty here. We were on our own.
I went back down and stood next to Eadwyn at the pulpit as he tried to calm everyone. He said God would look after them while they sought refuge inside His house, but his hands shook the whole time he spoke. I whispered to him that a prayer might settle everyone’s nerves and he agreed. He bowed his head and began reciting a prayer in Latin, and most of the congregation, if this scared and unfortunate rabble could be called that, did the same. I didn’t hear his prayer, though. I was too busy saying my own.
Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble...for the Lord, your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you.
It was the same prayer I’d made in Rogwallow, only this time, instead of begging for Aedre’s life, I’d beg for my own, along with everyone else inside this church.
Save us from these vile men. These pagan invaders who want nothing more than to destroy those who put their faith and their lives in Your hands. Save us from this evil.
Save us, by sending us Your champion.
That was it. That was my call for Arkael to arrive and drive this heathen army away. I had no inclination whether it would work or not, but right now I had no other option. Either Arkael would save us all, or these Vikings would take the city and slaughter everyone in their way. I watched the people of Eoferwic crowded before me, most of them too old or too young to be counted on to defend, or too poor to be considered important enough to hide anywhere else. Mothers wrapped their arms protectively around their children. The elderly prayed. Young children looked around with wide eyes, some of them wondering what the fuss was about, while others picked up on the fear running rampant through the room and cried or burrowed deeper into their parents’ embrace. If ever there was a time for God to send His champion, it was now.
It took some time, but a group of soldiers eventually fell back to the church, intending to defend it, but they were scattered and disorganized. They tried to rally a shield wall on the main street leading into the plaza, but it collapsed as soon as the Vikings charged. The defenders who survived that charge either died fighting alone against the Viking horde, ran away to rally someplace else, or came inside. They pounded on the door, and when the bar was lifted five armored Northumbrians rushed inside. Two stayed at the door to help put the bar back up. Two more ran to the back, near Eadwyn and myself. The fifth, however, tried so hard to strip himself of armor and weapons, hoping to hide amongst the poor, that he fell onto the ground and writhed about while pulling his chain shirt free. He finally yanked it off and threw his sword into the corner, then kneeled down on the opposite side of the church. We all watched his cowardice, but no one tried to stop him. I suspected, however, that at least half the people in the church were silently contemplating giving him up to the Vikings if it saved their own lives to do so.
Almost as soon as he kneeled to the ground, the doors thumped again. Gasps flew across the room, and everyone shuffled away. Another bump, this one much harder, caused the corroded metal braces holding the plank to creak. They wouldn’t hold much longer, no matter how hard everyone in the room prayed for them to do so. Eadwyn stared at the door, his face pale and mouth open. I reached over and grabbed his arm, which caused him to flinch.
“We are in a holy place,” I said, holding him still. “Pray with me.” He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, and I squeezed my hand around his forearm. Finally, he nodded, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. We both turned away from the door, toward the wooden cross that hung behind the altar, and kneeled.
“Almighty Lord in Heaven,” I said, loudly. “Protect us from these vile attackers. Spare the blood of the innocent this day.”
He will be here. Any moment now.
Two more loud thumps behind us and the bracket on the right side broke loose, falling to the ground with a clang, while the bar hung loosely from the other. I spared a glance over my shoulder to see the enemy push through, throwing the doors open, the bar dragging against the stone floor. Vikings streamed int
o the nave, tall, broad-shouldered men with long hair and fierce eyes staring out from under their helms. Like the raiders at Rogwallow, most wore leather armor, wool pants, and thick, mud-covered boots, but a few were lucky enough to have a chain shirt. Some had bands of gold or silver on their arms, and from what little I knew, the more bands a Viking had, the more men he’d killed. They shouted warnings we couldn’t understand and waved their swords and axes threateningly. The congregation swarmed against the side walls in fear, screaming and pushing against each other, and about a dozen more ran for the back door. All four of the men who were still armed threw down their weapons and knelt to the ground with their hands out, surrendering.
Their eyes watched us at first, searching the crowd for anyone who would dare to stand against them, but then they saw the treasures we held, and we might as well have been mice scurrying out of their way. They scattered about the room, admiring the silver and gold that they thought would be theirs, while a few, led by a tall, lean Dane with at least a dozen silver and gold rings on each arm came straight down the middle, in my direction. The hair on my neck stood up, and I tried not to stare at any of their bloodied weapons. Otherwise, my mind would run free imagining what they could do to us with them.
The church is protected. It is our sanctuary. He will come.
Some of the Danes went straight for the artifacts hanging on the walls, or on the counters. Several more went into the back, just as another half-dozen arrived to survey the scene. One plowed through the crowd and grabbed a young mother by the arms. She screamed and struggled, but he held tight and then shoved away the two children that clung to her legs.
