The Norseman

by Jason Born

  The ground on the mainland was firm and offered plenty of room for maneuvering. The English had massed in a line to our north and faced southward. For a full mile to the west the land was a rolling plain with fields and farms scattered about. After the farmland a dense woods began with a single road winding its way into the tree-shrouded darkness. We formed our line with the tightly packed men three deep facing Byrhtnoth. Leif, Magnus, and I again stood in the center with Olaf and his troop just to our right. Sweyn’s men had taken him back to his ship. Our line must have been over one-half mile wide and we looked marvelous. Like a soldier should look, each one of us was covered in dried or newly wet mud. We were ready. A tense moment began as both armies waited for the right time. At least three men around me vomited from the fear of the gruesome unknown, but no one thought any less of them. They stood firm in the line; perhaps to die yet today. Across the plain I saw several men from the English line let their hawks fly free from their wrists. They flapped quickly at first climbing into the sky, then gracefully swept out over the battlefield toward the woods.

  Olaf shouted, “Archers, make some corpses for us to walk upon!” Any man who could handle a bow was interspersed with the men in the third row. We didn’t have as many archers as I thought we should, but we never did. Within a few heartbeats the first volley of hundreds of arrows launched from behind. Many of this first volley fell short, but I smiled when I saw one of Byrhtnoth’s household guard fall from our rain. I was sure he was the first of many Englishmen who would die. A second volley flew and more arrows found the proper distance with more of the enemy falling. Olaf shouted again, “Forward!” Without another command those of us in the front locked shields, drew our weapons, and stepped toward an uncertain fate.

  We marched methodically to keep our shield wall intact. I heard shouting from the north, but could not make out what was said. I guessed it a moment later when the rain of English arrows began to slam into our line. Men screamed. Still we moved forward. The timing of our own arrows was less precise as the archers now fired at will and slowly advance behind our line. They would continue to punish the enemy line until their aim would be too low to overshoot our own men. The Norse and Dane archers would then unstring their bows, draw axes or swords, and become infantry like the rest.

  We were close now. So close that men in the second row hurled javelins or spears. Fife asked me if I wanted mine yet to which I answered no. I didn’t want to waste a single missile. English arrows crashed into our shields and sinews and still we marched. I looked to the right and could see Olaf in the second line carrying his sword. His shield was held almost casually at his side. I followed his gaze to the rear where our archers had finished making their switch and before I could turn to face Byrhtnoth, Olaf called, “Run!”

  Those of us who could clearly hear Olaf ran ahead at his command. This caused our shield wall to bubble slightly in the center, but it still remained intact as the rest of the men followed the center’s lead. I saw a mailed warrior’s shield approach mine, I lowered my shield a few inches, and then we crashed. Without thinking, I hefted the shield up, forcing the other man’s up as well. I stabbed my sword underneath my round shield and felt it catch something soft. He went down backward and my momentum almost took me down with him. All along the line terrible crashes, clangs, and screams pierced the morning calm.

  My height allowed me to see more than most men in battle. I saw that our first push held and we were killing them. Byrhtnoth was to my left standing only ten feet behind his line shouting orders at his men. The earl carried a spear and he held a rectangular shield with a cross emblazoned across its face. His long white hair hung from beneath his shimmering helmet. Suddenly he moved to his left closer to our crews while he encouraged a man pounding on Magnus’s shield with a short sword. Magnus had slipped to one knee and was going to soon be dead. I reached across the line and plunged my blade into the man’s side. The attacker lashed out at me with the sword but fell into his own blood after only one weak swing. Magnus quickly regained his feet and gave me a nod. He bent down to grab a spear that lay in the dirt and blood. Magnus gripped his shield and ran past several Englishmen toward Byrhtnoth. He gave a frightening scream and hurled the spear at the surprised ealdorman. The spear pierced the flesh beneath his right arm and became fixed in Byrhtnoth’s mail. Byrhtnoth became enraged and slammed the edge of his shield into the spear shaft. The shaft shattered and the embedded spear tip came free. Magnus had frozen in his tracks and I wondered if he watched the spectacle in slow motion as I had done. Byrhtnoth clutched his spear firmly in his right hand and launched it at Magnus. The spear sailed true and slit Magnus’s neck. My friend was dead even before he crumpled to the earth, still holding his shield.

  Another terrible scream rose above the clamor of battle. This time it was higher pitched than most and came from directly behind me. Fife was howling and ran past me toward Byrhtnoth carrying one of my javelins, poised to loose it at the lord of the English. He planted his left foot and set it to the sky with more force than his wiry frame should have been able to produce. The narrow point of the javelin spread open Byrhtnoth’s mail and became buried in his side, with blood running down the shaft. Byrhtnoth fell. Fife had brought the mighty lord down. Fife let his momentum carry him forward and he continued running to the fallen leader, his high pitched battle scream sounding the entire way. A young English warrior who wore the same tunic as Wulfstan had on at the causeway dropped his sword and yanked the javelin out of his earl. Fife drew the saex he had picked up on the jetty as he closed the gap. By now I too was running toward Byrhtnoth behind Fife. The young soldier of England threw my bloodied javelin back to Fife and it found its way home. The point of the missile crunched into Fife’s chest and protruded over a foot out the back before Fife fell to the earth.

  Byrhtnoth was stirring now, rising to his knees. His protector had recovered his sword and stood over his lord to face me. I jumped over the prostrate form of Fife with my now crimson sword and shield. Anger, more anger, than I ever remember having, boiled within me. I unleashed my rage into a roar. I unleashed my fury onto the young English warrior. The first swing of his sword clanged off my shield harmlessly. He was skilled, however, and regained his form to parlay my own first stabbing motion. Before he could strike again I surprised him with a swift downward stroke which caught his helmet. I drew no blood, but he shook his dented helmet free. I threw my shield down and, grabbing my sword with both hands, gave a great swing from the side. The still-stunned warrior jumped back to avoid the blow and still I pressed on. He teetered after his retreat for a moment and I lifted my leg high to kick him squarely in the chest. He fell onto his back and I buried my sword into the man’s belly. His eyes widen in pain and surprise and then the life drained out of them.

  I jerked my sword free from the man and quickly faced Byrhtnoth. He was on one knee climbing to his feet and simultaneously drawing his sword. The blade jumped free from its scabbard and flashed in the morning light as the injured lord tried to drive me back. I easily avoided his attempt and wildly hacked downward with my blade. My swing found a home and tore through the mail and flesh of his arm. The arm and sword fell to the ground and the earl wobbled on his knee.

  His swaying continued for a moment while I caught my breath. The battle raged around us. Men killing men. Cries for mothers sounded everywhere. Vigi was chasing other dogs over top of dead or dying bodies. I looked and saw that Byrhtnoth and I were isolated from the melee as his household troop suffered under the spears and blades of Danes and Norsemen. Then the earl looked to the sky and his deep voice shouted, “Guardian of the people, let me praise you for all the joys I have received in my life.” Blood freely flowed from his side and his arm. “Gracious Lord, as never before, I need your grace, that my soul may set out on its journey to you, that my soul may depart to your power in peace.” His breathing became shallow, but still he shouted. His men nearest him turned to see their earl. The boys holding the horses behind the English line st
ared in terror. “I pray, Lord, that these heathens, these devils may never destroy it.” His insult finally caused me to gather my senses and I again gripped my sword with two hands and hewed him down, cleaving him in two.

  Shouts of dread echoed throughout the English line’s center and for a time the fighting lulled as both sides took in the scene. Upon seeing their leader fall, at least five of the men from his household guard disengaged from whomever they were fighting and ran toward the horses. One of them was a tall man with white hair not unlike Byrhtnoth himself. He kicked the boy holding Byrhtnoth’s white charger and took the reins for himself. He and the other cowards mounted horses and galloped toward the woods with reckless abandon. I watched them go. Englishmen along the entire line saw the richest, best armed men from Byrhtnoth’s guard retreating. They saw their leader’s unmistakable white horse retreating. They saw a bloodied man in mail with long white hair on that horse retreating. Thegns and men alike saw this as a sign of all-out retreat. Thousands of Englishmen stopped fighting and fled.

  All except the several hundred at the center of the English line. A young warrior stepped to within ten paces of where I stood. His mail and leather were splashed with blood. The young man called out to the fleeing horses, now long gone, “Godric, you coward. You have betrayed us by fleeing to the wood.” Fighting in the center had ceased altogether, while the men fleeing the battlefield on the fringes were being pursued and hemmed by our men. The brave Englishman turned to his remaining men, “I am Aelfwine and this fallen lord is my kin. He is my lord. Think of all the times we boasted at the mead-bench and in the halls of our bravery in battle. Now we will see who meant what he said. For my part, I give you my word I will not retreat one inch; I will fight on to avenge my lord.” I looked on stupidly as he charged toward me with teeth bared and spear raised. For a moment the sun shown onto my face and I closed my eyes thinking of the fjords and farms of Greenland. I didn’t stir and hoped this man would just send me to Odin’s hall, away from the sweat, dirt, and shit here. I waited, but the gift never came. A jolting thud sounded just six inches from my face. I opened my eyes to see Cnute holding his shield out with Aelfwine’s spear buried in its face. Leif stood next to Cnute and halved the spear then attacked the brave young warrior. All around us the fighting again began in earnest.

  I picked up my shield and ran to engage more of the household guard. I swung my sword down at a tall thin man who received it onto his shield. He returned the blow with his own sword, but I raised my shield in time to block the blade’s path. The edge of his sword hit the top of my shield and hewed off a large section of my protection. This was unexpected by both of us and his momentum carried his swing over my head and opened his flank to my own attack. I plunged my sword into his side and withdrew it in a single motion to prepare to meet another attacker.

  None came. These last warriors of the army of Essex were brave, indeed. But they were doomed. Already the last of them were finding early graves. Already our men began picking the gold and mail from the dead.

  I walked to the bodies of Magnus and Fife, crumpled to the ground and wept.

  Ten thousand pounds! Ten thousand pounds of silver was our pay for leaving. I had never heard of such a sum paid for tribute. Olaf had negotiated that amount with representatives from King Aethelred and it came to be known as the Danegeld. That name roiled many Norsemen, for our blood spilled even more than that of the Danes. It was our leader who led the joint force against the English. But the Danes received the glory. Sweyn Forkbeard of the Danes decided he was happy with the sum and agreed to withdraw, his hopes dashed, at least temporarily, of a reinstatement of the Danelaw. The king and warlord would be rich beyond belief. Those of us in positions of command would find ourselves well compensated. I had offered the precious metals worn by Byrhtnoth to Olaf as congratulations for his victory over the earl. He accepted them with grace and bestowed gifts back to me. He gave me another arm-ring indicating I was bound to the warlord. Olaf also gave me Byrhtnoth’s massive sword. We were rich. But I felt poor.

  Most of the dead were not buried, but left to bloat in the summer sun. I saw to it that Magnus and Fife received proper burials, both clutching their weapons. Magnus, I buried in a grave near the River Panta, near the water he loved so much, with his hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword. I wept unashamedly over his barrow mound. Fife, I buried in the pea patch facing north toward his home in Scotland. I put both the saex he found and my javelin into his hands. I wept over the death of Fife, as well. My tears rolled down my dirty face and dripped onto the mound from the ends of my beard. With their weapons in their hands they were certain to be invited into the hall of Odin to celebrate war and victory for eternity with the gods.

  During the days it took to gather the Danegeld many of the women of Maldon were raped. Olaf agreed to keep the men under control, but they were soldiers fresh from a hard fought victory and they spent much of the time drinking ale. Examples were made of two of the men. They were handed to the constable of Maldon and executed. That slowed the crimes, but did not eliminate them altogether.

  On the morning we were to leave I stood in the swampy mud on Northey Island looking at Charging Boar with its keel stuck in the muddy bank. Almost all of our ships were stuck in the muck so we ran ropes to the nearby opposite shore and used trees as pulleys to wrench the boats free. Crews worked shirtless due to the humidity despite the nonstop attack from mosquitoes. As the Boar inched backward to stern, some of the men hauled up our square cloth to capture a growing breeze once we were in the river. It was the same sail we had used to propel us from Greenland over four years ago. I remember Thjordhildr and Freydis spending an entire winter carefully sewing the alternating red and white cloths together to fashion the sail. Its broad, vertical red and white stripes were remarkable. I loved that sail. I loved that boat.

  Leif slogged up next to me and watched the men work for a time. “You should command The Whale,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I put my hands on my hips, shook my head and said, “Randulfr should command her. He is experienced and has a good head on his shoulders. He’ll make a suitable replacement for Magnus.”

  “That’s true, but you’re better. The Whale is bigger and can bring more men to battle. It should have you as captain.”

  As the Boar pulled free and entered the center of the small river away from the trees, the flag on the top of the mast began to flap lightly. I turned to Leif and said, “Thank you Leif, but I intend to buy the Boar with my share from the Danegeld. It’s a small ship, but a fine ship. It was donated by my second father for our banishment and it reminds me of him. That sail reminds me of the fiery red-haired woman I was to marry. But she wouldn’t have me. That’s my fate. By owning the boat I can at least have a part of her. I can have a part of my father.”

  Leif looked at me and remained silent. I hadn’t broached the subject with him in the past and he would have to agree as the rightful owner. A smiled curled his lips upward and he slapped my shoulder, “Done. She’s yours.” He turned and trudged toward the Skull. As he walked past The Whale he shouted, “Randulfr, you’ll command The Whale! Halldorr says you’re the best for it!” He half-turned as he walked and said to me, “I like you Halldorr. You are more of a brother to me than any man.” Leif waded several steps into the creek and scrambled up the gunwale of the Skull. I stood in the mud watching the Skull turn to go downstream. He shouted to me again, “I knew we would be explorers and lead great men! I told you!” He smiled from ear to ear.

  His smile was so infectious one grew on my stern face. I walked into the creek and climbed aboard the Boar. The current and the wind began pushing us down the river toward the North Sea. And so we left Essex with the Danegeld. Ten thousand pounds of silver sat in chests aboard Olaf’s ship, Serpent. We left victors. We won. Our three crews came with seventy-five men and one boy. We slowly made our way to Dyflin with fifty-four men and one less black-haired Scottish boy.

  KAUPANGEN MAPS

  PAR
T III – Berserker!

  995 – 1,000 A.D.

  CHAPTER 7

  Our crews wintered on Sudreyjar in the house of the lord of the island. I was bored but Leif was not, for he had found himself a woman to keep his bed warm all winter. I spent my time gambling with Cnute, who still lost large sums of money to me and to everyone. With some of my winnings I paid for both Cnute and me to get tattoos of a charging boar on our forearms.

  Leif spent his time spilling his seed into Thorgunna, who was the lord’s daughter. She was tall, as tall as Leif, and thin with fine, high cheek bones. I preferred a more shapely woman, but I had to admit Thorgunna was indeed a rare beauty. Like Leif she had deep green eyes, but instead of his red hair she had long wheat-colored hair. She enjoyed her time with Leif and they spent most of that time under cover.

  I was twenty-eight and decidedly chaste. My time with Freydis before our banishment was the last time I had known a woman. It was not that I didn’t have many hopeful women. My wealth continued to grow since the exile and my status with it. Some of the hopefuls were actually quite beautiful and some were even wealthy. I just didn’t think about it. The fickle love of a woman was not something I wanted to experience again. Cnute and Tyrkr tried to convince me that love had nothing to do with it. I could have my bed companion and then move on when I was through, they said. But I had my sword and my profits and they were all I needed.