Neither Erika nor Janus paused to regard the success or failure of their first strikes. As Erika pulled the spear free, and stabbed again, Janus moved upward and pounded the hammer down into the face of the beast-man. The two of them did not cease, raining successive blows upon the creature’s body, even after it became still and unresponsive to their attacks.
Pulling the spear free from her last stab, Erika straightened up, and looked out to the shore. “The enemy galleys are nearing the land now,” she reported, a wide, anxious look in her eye.
Janus listened to her words with his heart beating fast from the adrenaline coursing throughout him. He gripped the hammer tightly, his hand shaking, now finished with his grisly task.
Janus followed her gaze and saw that the incoming ships were now indeed very close to the shore. Their decks were filled with armed human warriors, all of whom looked eager to join the fray. Fore and aft platforms in the galleys were packed with archers and crossbowmen. With an elevated position to fire their missiles from, they trained their sights on various targets. Janus knew in his heart that the situation was worsening rapidly.
“What do you say we should do?” Janus asked Erika, casting her a brief glance.
Erika met his gaze, and looked back out to the water. “We must get to the others. Where are Antonio and Logan?”
Janus looked around frantically. He saw the other two at the far end of the longship, where they were slashing and hacking with short-hafted hand axes at a couple of beast-warriors that were trying to climb over the sides of the ship.
“Antonio, Logan!” Janus called, attracting their attention. “Get over here now!”
The other two, their eyes reflecting fear and a heightened state of alertness, kept low as they hurriedly crawled across the deck towards Janus and Erika. An arrow sank into the wood close to Logan’s head, just as the two men passed the mid-point of the ship. It was a very narrow miss, making Janus’ breath catch in his throat.
Logan cast a furtive glance at the lodged arrow, as he spurred himself forward more quickly. Antonio hustled in Logan’s wake, having also taken note of his friend’s close call.
“We have to try and get to the others,” Erika said, peering cautiously over the sides of the vessel again. She then added, with a sharp look of worry, “Once we can find them.”
At that moment, a few Midragardans clamored up over the sides towards the middle of the ship. Janus felt the longship lurch and begin to move, as it was pushed into the water. The haggard warriors were all armed well, with spears, swords, and one who bore a great two-handed axe, which had a prominent, downward-extended blade, cut to a flat edge at its lower extremity.
“To the water! The water!” a loud cry came from a stout warrior at the center of the longship. “Get this ship out there! Hurry! We must run for it! With all speed!”
The men tensed momentarily, as their eyes fell upon Janus and his other three companions, but the Midragardans immediately relaxed their postures as they recognized the four exiles.
“We have others on the shore still!” Erika cried out to them, as the boat was pushed further out into the water.
Most did not seem to hear her, as the Midragardans were lending their hands to help several others climb aboard the vessel.
“We are not going back!” the stout warrior cried out emphatically, as the others grabbed up oars from where they lay upon t-shaped racks, rapidly situating themselves along the sides of the ship. Chests scraped upon the planks and thudded as they were hurriedly moved into place.
The ship started to glide out into the sea. At the burly warrior’s orders, the oars were set down to the water.
Erika ran to the apparent leader of the Midragardans, as Janus hurried up behind her. Her tone was adamant, as she shouted. “We must go back!”
“No!” he roared back at her, equally forceful, as the ship pulled away from the shore.
“Tryggvi, enemy galleys are bearing down upon us!” cried another of the warriors, looking out as he pulled back on his oar.
Erika, Janus, and Tryggvi looked out to sea, where a large enemy galley was rushing towards them, parting the waters as it was propelled forward by a full complement of rowers. It was swiftly closing the distance between the ships, drawing nearer with every passing second.
Tryggvi cursed loudly at the development. “If we had a full crew, we might have had a chance to outrun her… Crew or not, we must try anyway!”
Janus looked back out towards the oncoming galley. He could see a throng of archers and crossbowmen readying themselves at the bow to loose their missiles at the longship. The galley was higher of freeboard than was the Midragardan vessel, rising out of the water to a height that allowed the forecastle at the bow to have an open, unobstructed shot at any occupants of the longship. There was not a place on the longship that would not be reachable by the impending enemy volley.
Erika looked back to Janus, and he saw the unmistakable fear in her eyes. Yet the fear did not freeze her to inaction, as she turned and called back to Logan and Antonio. She urged everyone to pull up a shield from where they were set along the timber railing on the side of the ship.
In their desperation, they did not question Erika, not even the caustic Logan. The two men each yanked a shield free from the outer rack. Antonio’s trembling hands dropped the first one that he grabbed, and it splashed into the water. He immediately grabbed for another, and was more careful with the second one as he lifted it free.
“What do you have in mind?” Janus asked her, also following her directive, as he heaved a shield up and free from the outer rail.
The large wooden shield was fairly heavy. Janus grabbed onto the short iron bar set in the back of the small, dome-like protrusion of iron that was fitted in the shield’s center.
“We need to make a wall of shields, if we want to live!” Erika responded, loudly enough for all to hear her. “Follow me now!”
Having lifted a shield free for herself, she broke into a run towards the stern. Janus followed close behind her, as the others converged with them. He listened to her rapid instructions regarding the idea that she had.
With their backs turned to the raised deck at the longship’s stern, they proceeded to huddle together, allowing the round shields to overlap in front of them, forming a protective wall. Scant moments later they heard anxious cries from the men on the ship, as the horrific hiss of arrows and bolts filled the air.
More than once, Janus’ body was jolted as missiles slammed into the thick wood planking of the shield. Two arrows and a bolt burrowed solidly into the shield, as splinters and small chunks of wood flew free. He flinched as an arrow deflected off the iron boss of Erika’s shield.
The sickening sound of shafts piercing clothing, flesh, bone, and muscle carried to his ears, an eerie sound that Janus would not soon forget. What in reality took just mere seconds to pass seemed like a timeless gulf to Janus, as the missiles loosed from the enemy galley raked through the entire length of the longship. The screams from the Midragardan warriors were soon transformed into ebbing moans and rasps of death, as the torrents of arrows and bolts finally ceased.
A number of strange voices grew louder, as Janus and the others remained behind their makeshift wall of round shields. A tremendous force then shook the longship, as the two galleys impacted. In the aftermath of the collision, there was a great outcry proclaiming “With the Hand of God!” from the assaulting galley.
It was like having a herald at the cusp of an avalanche. The longship rocked violently, as many attackers jumped aboard the undermanned ship. A cascade of tremors passed through the longship, as numerous feet continued to heavily strike the deck.
The sounds of a furious, desperate fight erupted at the other end of the ship. There were several cries, thuds, clangs of steel, and splashes, but in a few moments the surface of the deck fell into a numbing silence.
“Come out from behind the shields. The rest are dead, and we can kill you easily enough, if we want to,” anno
unced a gruff voice, outside the cluster of shields.
Janus heard a number of weighty footsteps approaching them slowly, striding down the length of the deck. He decided to lower his shield slightly. With nowhere to run, he felt resigned, and a strange calm fell over him as he knew that fate would have to take its course.
A number of armed men stood on the deck of the vessel, weapons in hand, and squared towards them. Many wore mail and half-helms, bearing an assortment of spears, swords, and short-hafted axes.
Others, primarily archers and crossbowmen, wore no armor, and had just cloth caps upon their heads. Several drawn bows and crossbows were trained upon Janus and his companions, both from the main deck and the high platform at the bow of the other ship.
As his gaze swept the ship, Janus saw that there was not a single Midragardan warrior left alive. Many bloodied bodies were strewn about the deck, exhibiting gruesome-looking wounds. The Midragardans had evidently acquitted themselves well in the short, furious fighting, as the casualties in view reflected both sides about evenly.
The warriors that had boarded the longship had distinctive accents, and were notably clean-shaven. Their demeanors appeared hard and unforgiving, and there was little doubt that they would have few misgivings about slaying Janus and the others, if provoked. The heightened tension was unyielding, as Janus waited to see what would happen.
“These appear to be foreign,” a deep voice pronounced.
The speaker was a man who looked to be a more prominent warrior among the group, with a hauberk of mail over a padded gambeson. The end of a long blue tunic poked out from beneath the protective attire, richly embroidered. The circular pommel of a sword surmounted the scabbard at his waist. Mail mittens hung loosely back from his exposed right hand, which rested on the hilt of the sword. His other hand held up a broad-topped kite shield, whose half-yellow and half-blue facing was crossed by banded iron strips, the latter arranged like a radiating star. A full iron face mask, with a bluish hue, extended down from the brow of a yellow, round half-helm. The warrior carried himself with a straight, authoritative posture that set him apart from the men around him.
“Your barbaric allies have been defeated, look upon their destruction yourselves,” the figure chided them in an icy tone. Though he could not see the warrior’s eyes, Janus keenly felt the weight of the man’s stare.
At that moment, a low, gurgling cough broke out from one of the seemingly dead Midragardan warriors close to Janus’ group. The man had no less than three arrow shafts sticking out of his body.
Swiftly, the warrior with the iron face mask drew his sword, and slashed it downward with great violence upon the dying Midragardan. Blood spraying into the air by the sheer force of the blow spattered onto the mask of his helm. The warrior turned his head back towards Janus and his companions, a single drop of blood dripping down off the edge of his face mask, and falling to the deck.
“Such is the cost of resisting the will of the Unifier,” the leader continued in his chilly tone. “And it might be the price you may yet pay.”
He turned away, facing towards a few men to his immediate right. He addressed them in a commanding tone. “Take these prisoners by sky steed back to the fleet, and deliver them into the hands of Bohemond. While they are here, they are under my ward, and are not to be harmed. As for the rest, do with them as you wish.”
“Understood, Lord William,” replied one of the other warriors.
Erika, whose eyes remained fixed upon Lord William, was mercifully spared the unfettered lust within the eyes of a few nearby warriors. Disappointment came to their faces, as their nascent plans for her were plainly thwarted by the leader’s command. Janus had not missed the salacious expressions, and a burning anger flared within him. He could only hope that she kept her eyes averted.
Having received the leader’s approval, several warriors set at once to looting the fallen Midragardans of their weapons, rings, arm bands, pendants, and anything else of value that they had on their bodies. Janus closed his eyes to the brazen violations of the courageous, fallen warriors, hating each and every moment that he was made to endure the disrespectful ordeal.
While several crossbows and bows remained fixed upon the prisoners, a few of the other warriors strode forward. Unceremoniously, using narrow rope, they proceeded to bind the captives’ hands behind their backs. There was little use in resisting, as Janus and his companions were surrounded on the captured longship, with skillfully managed arrows and bolts trained upon them. With rough force, the prisoners were then shoved and jostled forward. Hands clutched them, and it was difficult to keep their feet under them as they were nearly dragged onto the other galley.
Janus felt a host of stares as they were herded towards the stern of the galley. They were guided to the aft-castle, and up a flight of timber steps onto its surface.
“Do as I say… an we ‘av no troubles,” one of their captors, a dark eyed, leathery-skinned man told them. “You ‘av done well so far. Lord William’s sword did not have to drink your blood. Don’t give my dagger reason to.”
Nearby was a wiry-looking man, whose deep-set, cold eyes peered out from an elongated face, one that Janus found was not altogether unlike that of a large rodent. The lean man regarded Logan with a haughty expression, verging on a sneer. He stuck the tip of his spear close to Logan’s face, letting the point lightly scratch his skin. To his credit, Logan remained firmly in place, doing nothing to provoke the man.
“Do not much like the looks of this ‘un. Think of somethin’ ya want to try, lad. Go ahead. Do it,” the slender warrior hissed at Logan, clearly inviting him to lose his composure.
The smile that then spread across the warrior’s face was devoid of any speck of kindness, instead hinting at a hungry desire for cruelty. Janus did not want to know what kind of thoughts had conjured the icy expression.
Still another warrior, a medium-sized man with a bulbous nose, drew a dagger, and traced a short cut down the front of Erika’s clothes. “Were it not for Lord William, I could think of somethin’ to try with this one.”
The staccato cackle of the cold-eyed man, and the unsettling chortle of the leathery-skinned one, joined the thicker-set one’s raspy laughter.
“Try it then,” Erika retorted through clenched teeth, her eyes casting daggers, unable to withhold her fury.
Her lips trembled with pulsating anger, and Janus instantly feared for her. He tensed, ready to throw caution to the wind to intervene on her behalf. There was not much he could do with his hands tied behind his back, but he was not going to stand by if the degenerate men threatened harm to her.
The face of the man with the dagger grew taut with visible rage, though he was not able to keep his eyes level with her molten stare.
“Leave them alone. They are the wards of Lord William. You had ears to hear,” interjected another voice, carrying the power of authority within its confident timbre.
With a small nose, large round cheeks, and a weak chin, he did not look nearly as intimidating in appearance as the other three men. Though wearing no helm at the moment, he was dressed in a similar fashion to Lord William. He had full length mail sleeves, with mail mittens hanging at the end, and a blue surcoat worn over a mail-coat and padded gambeson. He was a little shorter and narrower of shoulder than Lord William had been, but he carried the same kind of resolute posture.
Despite his non-threatening demeanor, the three other men ceased their harassment immediately. They quickly backed away from their taunting of the prisoners, keeping their eyes lowered and clearing the way for the newcomer to approach.
“My name is Robert of Mirar, liege knight to Lord William, of the Viscounty of Talais, in the Duchy of Avanor,” he said calmly, curiosity evident within his eyes. He spoke with a formal air, one that was much more fluid and articulate than the rougher manner of the warriors that had deferred to him. “Here is my advice to you, and I suggest that you heed it faithfully. Cooperation will be the best course for your well-being. If you
cooperate, I will make sure no harm comes to you. Simple enough?”
He slowly regarded the men around him, and Janus caught the sharp glare that he cast each of warriors before he walked away, continuing down to the main deck. While more glances were forthcoming in the wake of Robert of Mirar’s departure, including several more lascivious ones cast Erika’s way, the other warriors on the ship kept their distance from the prisoners, and went about their tasks.
Once the recovery of their own dead and the despoilment of the longship had taken place, the large galley was prepared for cast off from the doomed longship. Slanted benches were occupied in good order, by pairs of men that took up the ends of long oars.
Robert of Mirar’s next orders were then relayed down the length of the galley. Janus listened idly to the firm directive as it was conveyed all over the vessel. There was no use for the conquered longship, and as the victors did not want it to fall into enemy hands again, they had to sink it before departing.
A couple of men labored to swivel the yard arm of the mizzen mast outward, bringing it over the interior of the Midragardan vessel at about midship. A large, heavy shaft of wood, bound by stout, iron studs, was attached to the extremity of the yard arm.
The iron-studded shaft descended in a plunging free-fall, ending with a tremendous, crashing blow, as shards of wood exploded high into the air. Water was already rushing into the belly of the longship by the time that the crew had pulled the tethered shaft of wood back up to the yard arm. Moments later, a little further down the longship, they let it plummet to another smashing impact.
The crew then swiveled the long yard arm away from the other deck. It was not long before the longship began to sag beneath the lapping waves.
The galley crew labored quickly to remove the shaft. A rhythmic chant broke out, as the oarsmen dipped their wooden blades into the seas, and began to pull away from the submerging longship. Not wanting to watch the elegant longship lower into the depths, Janus watched the men as they rowed, using a sit and stand method.
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