The place I had chosen to attack was the right-hand side of the Viking line. Those in the second rank and third ranks had had to used their shields to protect the right side of the shield wall. They had to hold their spear in their left hand. Few men could use a spear as effectively with their weaker hand. I pulled back my spear. Roger of Bath and John son of John allowed my spear to slide back between them. I saw the Viking I would be fighting. He had a red beard and he had painted his face red to match. He had an open helmet with a nasal. My head was enclosed. He was shouting something at me but as I could not speak his language the words were wasted. I had my shield held tightly to my side. His spear came not for my shield but for my helmet. He was trying to hit me through one of the eye holes. He had never seen a helmet like mine before. His spear slid off the side. The warrior in the second rank rammed his spear at my head too and it had the same effect.
I punched with my spear upwards. My helmet protected me but it restricted my view. I was guessing where to strike. I hit something soft and someone grunted. I did not know if it was the man I was facing or the one behind. I twisted the head and pulled before ramming it again. Roger of Bath slid his spear over my shoulder and it struck a shield. I pulled back and punched again.
“Everyone, push!” We had five men behind me. We were facing three men in the shield wall and the rear two ranks had no mail. I felt the weight of my warriors behind me and I was face to face with my foe. Neither of us could move our arms. My spear was still stuck in one of them. I could move my head and so I pulled it back and head butted the Viking. My helmet was well made and heavy. There was a metal strip, like a cross down the middle. That hit him and I heard his nose break. Blood, bone and cartilage covered his face and I saw his eyes watering. He would not be able to see very well. More importantly he began to slip. Whoever I had wounded had been bleeding and the man was slipping on his blood.
Spears began to punch at our shields and helmets from the Viking second and third ranks. I was able to pull back my spear. This time, when I punched forward, I struck something hard. It was metal. I continued to push and twist at the same time. I guessed I had hit a byrnie and my spear was caught in the mail links. I kept pushing and twisting until the pressure stopped and it hit something soft. A spear found a gap and hit my shield. It slid off my shield and into Sir Simon next to me. He grunted.
I shouted, “James, sound fall back. It is time for a change!”
The horn sounded and a voice from the rear, Arne Arneson, shouted, “Shield leg, back!”
I trusted the judgement of my men and stepped back. The Vikings thought us defeated and cheered. A Viking voice shouted something. I guessed it was to stand. The last thing they needed was to chase after us. That had been the undoing of Harold Godwinson. As we stepped back I saw that we had moved their right wing back six paces. There were two knights lying on the ground. I could not see if we had had success other than a bloody patch of grass. Even if wounded they would stand and try to fight. That was the Viking way. Any dead or badly wounded would have been dragged away and replaced by other men. What I did see was that there were not as many spears. Sir Raymond and his men were already marching into position.
I shouted, “Halt!” When we were stopped I pointed to the place Sir Raymond had vacated and we marched there. Our servants had new spears for us. They would be sharper. As I took mine I saw that Count Striguil had also pushed back his wing. When my men had rearmed we watched as Sir Raymond’s men marched into the Viking right flank. It had been weakened and I saw the huge Marcher Lord push the Vikings back a pace.
While we watched we switched positions. A new line of knights formed the front rank. We became the third rank. When we took over from Count Striguil the men who fought would be fresher.
I heard de Clare order his men backwards and we began to move towards the Viking left flank. There were dead knights and men at arms but I also saw that the Vikings had suffered losses. Once we were close enough I shouted, “Spear foot!” We began to march towards the Vikings. All of our men had fresh spears. I saw that the Vikings had fewer spears. The men at arms in the second rank were led by Günter of Swabia. His shield covered the heads of the two knights in front of him: Sir William and Sir Stephen. He was as solid and reliable as my old friend Rolf had been. Even if the knights in front of him were novices he was a veteran.
As I was in the middle I had my shield in the middle of Günter’s back, I rested my spear on his shoulder. If I held it at the bottom of the haft I could punch with it. It might not have much power but the effect of a spear coming at eye height could be alarming. The young knights were keen and they all swung their spears at the same time. Günter and I thrust our spears forward too. Mine struck metal but Günter’s found flesh. It tore into the cheek of a Viking. The man did not move. When the spear was retracted there was a hole large enough to see inside his bloody mouth. The Vikings were tiring. Had this been earlier in the battle then the Viking might have moved his head out of the way.
Suddenly an axe swung overhead towards Sir Stephen. Had it been any other than Günter the blow might have caused damage but Günter’s shield held. At the same time two Vikings in the front rank fell to the ground. As the warrior behind stepped forward John of Norton thrust his spear into him. The Viking’s shield had caught on the sword of the warrior next to him.
I shouted, “James! Archers!”
The horn sounded twice. We now had a gap in the Viking flank. Men were filling the gap but, as they did so, they were exposed. Our archers could now do what they could not before. They could find flesh.
It was time for us to send in our reserves. Count Striguil would lead his knights and the remainder of the men at arms. They would be our largest force and they would be attacking the centre of the line. Although they were the best warriors the arrows and our flanking attack might just turn the day in our favour. I saw the arrows begin to fall and heard shouts as they found their way through shields held by weary men. I heard the crash as our reserves struck the Viking line. I watched as two more Vikings fell close to us. There are decisive moments in a battle. We had, with us, twenty warriors who had yet to be engaged. Roger of Bath and a line of knights were behind me.
I shouted, “Roger of Bath, lead your men at arms and the knights. Attack the line to our left.”
“Aye lord! On my command turn left and move. Move!”
The pressure went from behind me. Once again, the axe came over and Günter stopped it but this time he thrust forward with his spear as he did so. The spear went under the arm of the man swinging the axe and into his body. The axe slid to the ground. I saw Günter release his spear and reach down for the axe. He shouted, “Ware behind!” I moved out of the way and Günter swung the axe. It struck a shield already battered by spears and arrows. It split asunder and the man’s arm was severed in two.
Sir Stephen saw his chance and he leapt into the gap, ramming his spear into the side of the next warrior. The shield wall was broken. Now it was a mêlée. My men at arms excelled in that form of combat. With our longer, lighter and narrower shields we could outmanoeuvre the Vikings with their large and extremely heavy shields. They had been holding them for hours and now they paid the price.
I hurled my spear at the chest of a warrior without mail. He fell backwards clutching at it. My sword was in my hand and I leapt at the stunned Viking who had just been knocked aside as Günter smashed his axe into the face of the man next to him and bundled him out of the way. I brought my sword down on his helmet. Even if I did not break the helmet I would smash his skull. The battle was now shrunk to within the sweep of my sword. I could not see the rest of the battle. I was aware that James was behind me and I was following an almost berserk Günter. He was swinging the axe with deadly accuracy. The Vikings were tired and their shields were dropping.
I knew that the Vikings would fight to the end. The young knights would expect them to surrender. They would expect ransom. That was not going to happen with Vikings. “No mercy! Kill
them all!” It was harsh but I was thinking of my young knights. The men they were fighting were the toughest warriors they would ever face. Athelstan had told that the only way you could be sure you had defeated a Viking was to take his head.
I saw a Viking lurch towards Günter’s right side. Günter was busy with a Viking who was also armed with an axe. I hurled my shield, with my body behind it at the man and he fell to the ground. I barely kept my feet. He lay below me and I skewered his neck. The mailed Vikings were still fighting. They were still dying but the ones at the rear, the ones who had no armour, now ran. My father had told me the same had happened at Hastings. The housecarls had stood and the rest had fled. As we butchered and slaughtered the Viking warband, the others ran.
It was not quick. The Vikings died hard. The men at arms were more methodical and logical than the knights. The knights fought furiously and tried to end it quickly. The men at arms, knowing that we had superiority of numbers, were looking for weakness in tired men. I found myself with no enemies to the fore. I looked to my left and saw isolated bands of Vikings being cut down.
“James, bring our men. Let us destroy their ships else they will flee and we will have to fight them again.”
“Aye lord, to me! To me!” I looked down and saw that many of the Vikings, despite being Christian still wore amulets around their necks. I saw a Thor’s hammer, a wolf and a dragon. The Vikings were not natural Christians.
“Ready my lord.”
I turned and saw that James had gathered forty knights and men at arms. I led the column towards the harbour. We did not run but went at a fast walk. Tired men could fall. I saw, as we neared the quay, that one of the dragon ships was almost loaded. When they saw us, the sail was unfurled and mooring lines cut. The breeze took her away. There were still five others being loaded.
“Fetch fire! Burn the others!” Men ran into the houses. I could smell the smoke. There would be burning brands. One ship had escaped. Had they managed to push off the others then they might have escaped too. These were not mailed warriors. These were Vikings and their families. That would not matter, they would all fight as hard as the ones we had just slain. One ran up to me, as I was leading the column, and he swung his sword at me. I pulled up my shield and as his sword slid down my curved shield I swung at his head. He had no helmet and the edge of the sword bit into his skull.
Harry Lightfoot lived up to his name. He had run, with burning brand in hand, and reached the furthest ships. Although not fully loaded, as they saw him approach they hacked through the mooring line. As the sail unfurled Harry threw the brand and it caught on the billowing sail. The wind fed the flames. The canvas was bone dry as was the mast. The fire raced up and down the mast. The ship was doomed. Before the flames could spread the people on board hurled themselves into the water. Even as I watched I saw heads disappear beneath the waves.
The quay was a maelstrom of battling bodies and whirling weapons. It was our mail which saved us. I was struck from behind by a sword. I whipped around and hacked my sword sideways. My sword bit into the side of an old man. He had a smile on his face. His sword in his hand he had died a Viking. The last four ships remained tied to the quay and they were doomed. Brands were thrown and soon all four were alight. Some on board jumped into the sea, others came back to the quay. The women and the old gathered the children around them and awaited death. The last men stood defiantly with weapons ready.
Padraig ghosted next to me. He was out of breath. He had run from the camp, “Padraig, tell them to surrender. They will not be harmed.”
He shouted to them and one of the men answered. “He said they will not be slaves.”
“Tell him that they will not be enslaved and they can continue to live here in, what did you call it, Veisafjǫrðr. The only difference will be that there will be a Norman who rules the town.”
This time it was a longer conversation. Eventually Padraig turned, “I told them that you had freed me. He says if you will swear on your sword that they will still be free then they will surrender.”
I took my sword, kissed the blue stone and said, “I swear that the people of Veisafjǫrðr will not be enslaved.”
The swords were sheathed. We had won. I wondered at the one ship which had escaped. Whither would it go? Would we have to fight at Waterford too?
This time there was a great quantity of treasure for the knights, men at arms and archers. Vikings liked to adorn themselves with copper, silver and jewels. They wore battle bands and carried their gold with them. Their swords were well made and their mail was valuable too. Once again, we had lost a few of our younger knights but my plan of attack had minimised the losses. I was acutely aware that there would be no reinforcements and the King of Leinster was a poor ally. If we retook his kingdom then it would be by our efforts. We found the body of Jarl Sigtrygg Haakenson. He had died well. All of the wounds were to his front. He had a metal dragon around his neck and his sword was in his half-severed hand. He would be in his Valhalla.
The servants brought our horses and supplies into the town. It was safer than our camp and we would have houses in which we could stay. We had slain over a hundred Vikings in the battle and as many more had died in the attempt to flee. We had room. We took over one of the long houses. It was like a warrior hall. The Vikings made good beer and there was plenty of it. I sat at a table with my lieutenants and their senior knights.
“Did you send word to the king that we have taken Wexford?”
De Clare nodded, “I sent my squire.”
“Then we must strike quickly at Waterford. I hope that there will be fewer men. We cannot afford to lose knights and men at arms.” I turned to Padraig. “Is it far?”
“No lord, as the crow flies it is less than thirty miles.”
“And Ferns is the same distance north?” He nodded. “Then King Diarmait Mac Murchada will be of no use to us.”
De Clare wiped the beer froth from his mouth, “I am not certain, lord. The High King still has plenty of men. I cannot see him suffering the one defeat and not trying to retake Leinster. At least we have our backs protected. Ferns has a wall does it not, Padraig?”
My translator nodded, “Aye lord and it has a stone cathedral.”
I was not sure how that would help them but the Irish king might be able to defend walls. The simple fact of the matter was that we had little choice. We had to secure the other major port before we moved to Ferns and retook the rest of the kingdom.
“Count Striguil, as the King of Leinster did not want Wexford, I think you ought to appoint a lord of the manor for it. Or, perhaps, take it for yourself. You could start work on a castle.”
“I think I will take this as my castle.” He turned to his uncle, Hervey Montmorency, “Uncle, would you be castellan for me and start work on my castle?”
He grinned, “Aye for I am getting a little old for this campaigning.”
We left the next morning for Waterford. We did not take all of our men. Sir Hervey would need a garrison and men to begin building the motte and bailey castle. We had discovered spare wood for dragon ships and that would be the palisade. It would not need to be a large castle. It was more of a refuge in case of attack. From what I had seen the Irish would not be able to take even a simple castle.
We reached Waterford not long before sunset. I rode to view the town. It had a wooden wall. I was relieved to see just two dragon ships in the harbour. We would not have as many men to fight. We made an armed camp with sentries at regular intervals and I had the horses hobbled. We were as far away from help as we had ever been.
My servants had my tent erected quickly. They were old campaigners. I knew that I was lucky to have them. They had hot food started quickly too. With a couple of logs for seats it was quite cosy. James had taken Padraig under his wing and had given him one of the captured swords. He was showing him how to defend himself. With no knights in my retinue I sat with Aelric and my men at arms.
“If the rest of the war is as the first part then we
should be home by Christmas, Warlord.”
“We should Aelric but I would not count on it.”
Roger of Bath picked up some of the soil and rubbed it between his fingers. “It is fertile soil but I have seen few farms.”
“I was speaking with Padraig today, as we rode across this land. He said that the people are too busy raiding and fighting each other to be successful farmers. Perhaps a firm Norman hand might make it a rich country.”
Roger sniffed the soil, “I am betting they could grow wheat here.”
Tom and the other servants brought over the wooden bowls with the stew they had made. Salted meat mixed with water and greens they had found may not sound appetising but after a long day riding it was more than welcome. James and Padraig joined us, “I hope that Sir Hervey begins work on a bread oven. The stew is nourishing but I like my bread.”
Padraig shook his head, “There are few bread ovens here, master. The Bishop has one.”
“Then we shall have to change that, eh James?”
“Yes lord! I did not think that Ireland would be so primitive. I thought Wales was bad enough but that is sophisticated compared with this land.”
My men slept in the open normally but, as a drizzle descended they improvised tents with their cloaks and the eaves of the trees. The drizzle became heavier rain as the night progressed. As I had grown older so I had needed to make water more frequently in the middle of the night. I rose and donned my cloak for I could hear the rain. Sir Raymond’s men had been given the night duty. It was rotated each night. The password was ‘Eleanor ’.
Irish War (Anarchy Book 16) Page 18
