Ambrose, Prince of Wessex; Trader of Kiev.

by Bruce Corbett

  Ambrose gestured to Polonius, who stepped up to the girl and threw his cloak over her naked body. Polonius then led her away to a vacant hut, where he stood guard at the only entrance.

  Even as the frightened girl was being led away, Bothi ordered his men to strip the headman and turn him so that his back was exposed. The Varangians laughed. They guessed that Bothi would order that the man be given a 'Blood Eagle'.

  While the man hung helpless, his ribs were broken in the back, and his lungs were pulled backwards, so that they lay outside of the body cavity. The lungs quivered obscenely, until at last, the man mercifully succumbed to his brutal treatment and died.

  CHAPTER 19.

  Bothi's Warriors Have a Victory Celebration.

  One by one, a representative of each family was released to find, and bring back, their valuables. Slowly the pile of copper, silver and furs grew in front of Bothi. No one ran for the forest, for all knew the lives of their families and friends were being held hostage. While they waited for the representatives to return with the family treasures, the men amused themselves by inspecting the women. The prettier ones were forced to strip for inspection. The husbands and parents of the women were forced to watch. They hung their heads in an agony of hatred and shame. Only once did a man attempt to interfere when two laughing Varangians stripped his wife. He was stabbed quickly with a spear, and left to bleed to death where he fell.

  Finally, when all had returned to the captives' ring, Bothi addressed the throng through his interpreter.

  "The piddling treasures you have laid before me are as nothing before the life of the man you so wantonly slew. Hear then the judgement of your master. Your chief, who led you in this rash deed, has already tasted Varangian vengeance! No more shall he affront me! No more shall he breed such as himself. The woman may live, if she survives the amorous advances of my warriors tonight. The young man will be sold in Novgorod as a castrati. The boy will be held by me as a hostage for your future good behaviour. Yet also will my warriors do as they wish with your women tonight. You will also donate one half of your stored crops to me and my men. Because it is my policy to live in peace with you, I will not sell you all into slavery, as you justly deserve, but I will take ten maidens when I leave tomorrow. This then, is the judgement of your jarl. Hear, and obey!"

  With that, Bothi allowed the inhabitants to break from the circle. Each of Bothi's warriors retained the woman of his fancy, and their men were allowed to flee weaponless into the woods.

  By the light of huge bonfires, the soldiers spent the night revelling. The women were forced to pour mead and wine, and roast and serve the village's own butchered animals. As the men drank more and more heavily, the women were reduced to dancing naked for them, and then amusing the men when led to more private places.

  Ambrose said he still felt strange without Phillip at his side. He and Polonius tentatively joined in the festivities. Polonius soon found an older woman who was not in terrible fear and loathing of him, and the two went off together into the dark.

  Ambrose, left alone and somewhat drunk, returned to the hut Bothi had assigned him. There, in the farthest corner, crouched the girl that he had bought at such great cost. With the firelight coming through the doorway, Ambrose could see her clearly. She grasped the cloak tightly around her as best she could, but the soft tones of bare flesh could still be seen shining gently in the feeble light.

  Ambrose, fired by the liquor he had drunk, the excitement of the other soldiers, and, most of all, by the masculine sense of mastery he had over this barely clothed young girl, spoke harshly in his halting Slavic. "Come here, girl, and serve me!"

  He settled on some furs, and handed her the flagon of mead and haunch of mutton he had taken from one of the cooking fires. Shyly, slowly, she crept forth. She took the mutton and sliced the meat into more manageable hunks for Ambrose. Then she found a horn mug and poured the mead into it for her new master.

  Ambrose, very much the lord, suddenly felt renewed compassion for the terrified girl. He smiled at her and spoke in his best Slavic. "What is your name, girl?"

  "Kuralla, Lord."

  "Come and eat and drink with me, Kuralla."

  "It is not our custom, Lord."

  "It is not my people's either, Kuralla. But I wish it."

  "Then it shall be so, Master."

  Even as they both ate; she at his feet, and casting frightened glances at him, Ambrose became aroused by the soft curves that were tantalizingly exposed as the cloak gaped open. The dancing firelight filtering through the door made deep shadows play upon her body; leaving much hidden, but momentarily illuminating portions of her breasts and thighs.

  The drink went to Ambrose's head, and before he was quite aware of what he was doing, he seized Kuralla and pinned her to the furs. She struggled silently. A headstrong colt, she knew only panic when it was obvious what the stranger intended. Her soft, light body arced and writhed to escape the attentions Ambrose forced upon her. At last, exhausted, she lay still while he fondled her. Deep within her she began to feel a stirring in response to his ministrations, but she feared it, ignored it, and began again to struggle. At last, excited beyond control, Ambrose thrust hard between her thighs. Harder and harder he thrust, seeking warm entrance, but she groaned and twisted the more. His battering ram tore cruelly at her tender tissue.

  After a last gasp, Ambrose lay still. Once again in control of his senses, he looked down at the innocent girl who lay moaning and crying under him. It was, Ambrose felt with remorse, a poor victory over an innocent child. He, in his virility and ignorance, had obtained scant relief except from his tumescence, and she had obviously gained a great deal of hurt and fear towards him and his gender.

  For a gentle soul like Ambrose, this was a sad thought, for he well knew that to many of his fellows, forcing a young and virgin woman was considered a most exciting pastime; far better than sleeping with some older woman who craved a man to fill her. He felt, however, only shame and remorse for what he had done.

  Dawn found the warriors exhausted. Only by dint of terrible threats had Bothi been able to keep any sentries at their posts guarding the palisade and the corralled horses. At length the men awakened, many with terrible headaches, and gradually formed up around the surviving cooking fires. The village was without men, but women moved quietly about, some still naked. Occasionally one would smile at a warrior who passed, but most appeared to harbour a deep hatred for their conquerors. Ambrose watched Bothi systematically inspect the women, and he chose ten of the youngest and prettiest. The Rus jarl spoke to his two lieutenants. "They have many fine women here! I think I am sorry I said I would only take ten maidens.'

  He smirked suddenly. 'Still, they need some women here to help work my new fields for me. I think I will demand a yearly tribute in maidens."

  The column formed up in full battle formation; scouts out front to ensure that the Slav tribesmen didn't try to retaliate against their new Varangian overlords. The captive maidens were double-mounted with the lighter warriors, who would be responsible for them until they reached Bothi's village. Seized horses bearing food and looted treasures brought up the rear of the cavalcade.

  At a signal from Bothi, the column surged through the gate and followed the path that would lead back to the security of his own strong point.

  Ambrose rode alongside Polonius when the trail permitted, but they had travelled some hours before he ventured to put his thoughts into words. Grimly he remembered his deed of the night before. He still heard, every time he looked in her direction, the words they had exchanged that very morning. When he, in a fit of remorse, offered her freedom and the right to stay within the village. Kuralla had, surprisingly, refused. She had looked slowly down at herself, her body ill concealed in her salvaged clothing, with an intensity that signified deep thought. She had answered demurely enough.

  "I thank you, my master, but I am no longer able to stay here. After the shame of my exposure and the loss of my virginity, I am no longer
of value to my tribe. No tribe would marry a chief's son to a used woman; no illustrious alliance will be sealed by my body. I must go with you, or die here. I care not much which!"

  Ambrose, shocked by her reaction, had only nodded stolidly, and arranged that she have a horse.

  Breaking the silence at last, Ambrose turned searching eyes on Polonius. "My friend, I did a terrible thing last night, and I am neither proud nor happy with myself."

  Polonius looked concerned. "Just what terrible deed did you do last night, my prince?"

  With that the story poured out, and Polonius listened sympathetically. At last, seeing Ambrose's stricken face, he responded.

  "My lord, what you have done is no more or less than your right as her master. It is not the right of slaves to question their masters' deeds. And yet, I fear that your Christian soul is burdened with the guilt of your deed. Know you then, that, although most of our companions would feel that you did no more than is your due, in my own meekness, I invariably seek an older, and willing, woman for my manly pursuits. The result is great pleasure, rather than pain. Believe it or not, an experienced woman can teach the more young and shapely women many tricks, learned through years of experience. And yet, lord, this is only my humble manner of deriving pleasure, and I would not impose it upon another who has different taste. Whether you enjoy the softness and expertise of an older woman, or the bones and fears of barely nubile girls is a matter of taste."

  Ambrose lapsed again into deep thought. He mulled over Polonius' comments and rode on in silence. With the scouts flushing nothing more than birds and a snorting boar, the column made its way back to Bothi's headquarters without mishap.

  CHAPTER 20.

  Winter Sets in.

  Winter closed on Novgorod. From the far north, frigid masses of cold air swept across the land, bringing severe frosts and much snow. Thanks to Polonius' medicinal skills and Kuralla's nursing, Phillip's wound healed cleanly. It did not take long before his strength returned.

  While Ambrose, Phillip and Polonius at first felt constrained by the weather, the severity of which surprised and awed them, they soon realized that the Slavs and the Varangians were no stranger to such bitter cold. The three friends soon learned how to use cunningly carved wooden staves on their feet that the Rus settlers used as a means of moving through deep snow.

  At length, wrapped securely in fur-lined coats and boots, the three companions learned the pleasures and dangers of a continental winter. They spent many carefree days hunting wild game and trapping in the nearby forest, until the three of them became expert with the forest lore of their new frozen land.

  Surprisingly, the wooden staves allowed the hunters to set a pace that would be difficult to match in summer. To their delight, they found themselves able to skim over swamps that were all but impassable in summer. The animals became easy prey for hunters capable of sliding across the top of the snow.

  Ambrose was fascinated to learn that the great northern winter, in a place unprotected by an embracing ocean, was not a scourge that stopped all trade and movement. Although on the worst days the cold was sometimes enough to kill an exposed man in minutes, yet by ski or in horse-drawn sleighs, men were able to easily travel great distances along snow-packed trails.

  Once again Ambrose, Phillip, and Polonius travelled away from mother river. They visited the far-flung outposts of the little Slavic-Rus nation. Here, in the farthest marches, Ambrose traded for furs, and met many of the wild forest-people who bartered their catch for weapons and food.

  They were particularly interested to see how the newly-ordered military training progressed. Each Slav villager, while familiar with the rudiments of fighting, was required by edict from Novgorod to study war manoeuvres and drill. For armour, most Slav men made a leather jerkin and sewed metal rings and plates to it. Only the wealthiest villagers could afford the chain-mail shirts most Rus warriors wore.

  Most important, on the milder days of winter, the men were required to practise archery and spear throwing. The villagers learned how to form a skjaldborg, a shield-wall in the Viking fashion. Few possessed swords, but most had axes or long knives, and the blacksmiths churned out enough spear heads that all were soon armed with a spear.

  As the three companions watched a demonstration in one river-side village, Polonius turned to Ambrose. "What do you think about the Slav warriors, Master?"

  Ambrose thought for a moment. "Well, I doubt that they are ready to face a serious charge, yet, in their own way, they could be a formidable force."

  Polonius responded. "How so?"

  "Well, in winter, armed with bows, and wearing their staves, or skis, these people would be formidable. They can travel faster than even mounted men. They are good with spear and bow, and they know the secret paths. They can set man-traps and kill from ambush. With their knowledge of the forests, they would be all but impossible to catch."

  Polonius smiled. "You are saying that they would be ideal for hit and run attacks against infantry or horsemen?"

  Ambrose smiled in return. "As long as the snow was deep enough to impede riders. And they would be even more effective against infantry."

  Polonius turned to Phillip. The giant spoke little, but he was a master soldier. As a long-time member of the Wessex king's Personal Guard, he had been honoured with the task of training the athelings of the royal court in the ways of battle.

  "And what do you think, old soldier?"

  "It is obvious that the local folk will never be honed into a great all-conquering force, for they are farmers first and soldiers only by necessity. They are brave enough, especially when fighting for their own homes and families, but they don't have the mentality of men who have worshipped war as a way of life and whose greatest hope is to die in heroic battle against a brave foe.'

  He shrugged. 'Leavened with enough veteran Viking warriors, they might stand against a determined attack, but you would multiply their effectiveness by putting them behind sturdy walls. They would probably be quite effective in hit and run attacks, but I suspect that it will be hard to persuade them to travel far from their wives and children. It is the same with the Saxon fyrdmen."

  Rurik and his senior commanders seemed to conclude something similar. They decided that the major defence against further onslaughts would be a static one. To this end both Varangians and Slavs were enjoined to live in fortified villages and walk to their fields daily.

  Each village was palisaded, and the larger ones held a strongly built and easily defensible centre; usually where the Varangian or Slav chieftain lived. The palisades were of green wood, and each component log was carved to a sharp point. Platforms were built along the insides of the walls, so that archers and spearmen could shoot down on any advancing foe.

  As Ambrose and Polonius approached a small village just down river from Novgorod, the prince gestured towards the almost completed palisade.

  "What do you think, Scholar? It is what you proposed."

  "The truth? It seems very primitive compared to the defences my people throw up. Yet against the horseman of the steppes, who abhor walls and are impatient with sieges, it should at least slow the raiders down and give Rurik's boat forces time to deploy.

  Still, I have to admit, my Saxon prince, that Rurik is probably right in his assessment of the situation. It is many days ride from the open steppe to the northern forest lands, and while I am told that far-ranging raiders hit the settlements sporadically, it is not likely that an entire army, complete with siege weapons, would ride so far through forests that blot out the sun. Most important, the endless forest denies to the horsemen their most effective weapons; a furious massed charge and fluid mobility.

  Ambrose turned to Polonius. "Then you have witnessed nomad cavalry in action, Polonius?"

  "Scythian horse-archers are one of the mainstays of the Byzantine army, young prince. The hordes of invaders from the steppes forced the Eastern Romans to long ago abandon the infantry formations of ancient Rome. Master, did I never tell you the
tale of Crassus and the Parthians?"

  Ambrose winked to Phillip. "I don't think so, Scholar."

  "Then your education is still severely lacking, Prince-of-the-Saxons. Well, let's see . . . Marcus Licinius Crassus was a very rich man who joined with Julius Caesar and Gnaeus Pompey to form the First Triumvirate."

  Ambrose interrupted. "You were telling me about the Parthian horsemen, Polonius."

  "Yes, Of course, I was just coming to that. You see, as military governor of Syria, Crassus took seven legions and invaded Parthia. Foolishly, he neglected to take adequate cavalry. It was his undoing. He left the river and headed overland through open country. The Parthians, master bowmen, refused to close. They had brought a thousand camel loads of arrows and ten thousand archers. They filled the air with the shafts. The Romans retreated into their turtle formation, but the Parthians had a thousand heavily armed knights who kept threatening the Romans. In battle formation, the Romans were safe against the cavalry, but vulnerable to the Parthian archers. In turtle formation, the archers were less of a threat, but the cavalry was a serious danger."

  "So what could the Romans do, Polonius?"

  "Die. They could not reach the fast-riding Parthians to fight them. In every battle between the two, the Romans had been victorious, but this time the Parthians refused to close. The Romans could not stop the hail of arrows. Less than ten thousand legionaries made it back to the river and their fleet. Over 34,000 died on the sun baked plains.

  And now, young prince, what lessons should be drawn from the debacle of Carrhae?"

  "Hmm. Unsupported infantry should never venture into open territory if they may face cavalry. Never neglect your archers or your own cavalry. Some kind of defensive position or fortification is likely to be helpful against cavalry."

  Polonius smiled. "Well thought through, Master. In truth, I have watched several regiments of Byzantine mercenary cavalry practise. When the archers have sufficiently softened up a formation, then the cavalryman switch to the lance. By preference the riders ride knee to knee. Tons of horseflesh and men irresistibly surge over the land and sweep aside opposition as the tide sweeps aside the walls of a child's sand castle. It seems it is that charge that has always broken the Slavs. Many have told me it is what they fear most in life."