by Stuart Hill
I turned and looked at the strange wise woman who’d quickly become one of our greatest weapons against the military might of the Danes. “I’m happy to trust your powers, Ara,” I said quietly.
“Well good, I can’t say how glad I am that you’re happy,” said Edward irritably as he eyed the strange boat. “But I still want to know exactly where you’re taking us, Ara, and why!”
“I’ve already said: I’m taking you to the battle.”
“But why, especially after Father refused to take us with him?”
Ara was silent for a moment, but then went on, “I have been shown by the gods that you, Edward Cerdinga, and also you, Aethelflaed, will be the defenders of the land, but more importantly even than that, you will also defend an idea.”
“An idea?” I prompted. “What do you mean? What sort of idea?”
“Not everything was made clear to me,” our nurse replied. “But, I do know that from the kingdom of Wessex a sense of identity will grow. A sense that will be held and embraced by many people. Not only those of Saxon stock, but eventually the Danes too and after them many others who will come to these shores. Some will be invaders, others will come peacefully to live, but whoever they are they will all become part of the one idea.”
I stared at the strange shadowy punt that still waited for us to step into it and tried to understand what Ara was saying. “But when will this happen?”
“Not ever if this battle against the Danes is lost. And even if we win, it will take many years, more than we could ever imagine. But you, Aethflaed Cerdinga, and you too, Edward, are part of the seed that will be planted in the soil of Wessex and will spread its roots and branches throughout the land. You must be strong and defend the idea, so that down the long, long years it may flourish and a new people be made that are not only Saxon or Dane or whatever race may come to this land, but are people of ...” She paused again as she tried to explain. “People of ... an identity that is beyond mere race, or religion, beyond the unimportant differences we may have ...” Her voice trailed away as she was finally defeated in her effort to explain.
“Sounds daft to me,” said Edward. “But as you seem to know what you’re doing, I suppose we have no choice but to do as you say.”
That seemed to decide us at long last, and we finally stepped down into the punt. There then followed the long struggle to get Mouse into the boat. Now that he was too big to pick up and carry it took both of us to try and coax him down into the dangerously rocking punt and he whined pathetically. But then he gave a yelp and suddenly landed beside us in a tangle of sprawling limbs.
Ara tried to look innocent, but I knew she’d pushed him. I said nothing: sometimes drastic measures are needed when you’re in a hurry. We then watched as Ara and her ravens followed. Next she took up the long pole that the marsh people use to drive such boats through the water, and pushed away from the causeway.
As soon as the punt nosed out into open water, a dense mist settled over us. The night was silent but for the gentle stirring of the reeds in the light breeze, and with the mist came the scent of green growing things and the rich black mud of the marshlands.
I have no idea how long we were in the punt or how far we travelled. Father had said he expected to take three days to reach Saint Egbert’s Stone with his thousand warriors, but Ara’s black punt floated through the deep darkness of the night and somehow the miles were gathered in and then left behind us, so that as dawn lightened the sky and the mist lifted, we looked out on a river that wound through a landscape of downs and fields with no sign of any reed beds or marshlands.
Perhaps I’m remembering the circumstances differently and we were far longer in the punt than I now think. But I’ve gone back over the events and times in my mind and I still think that we travelled the distance in the space of a single night.
Eventually our old nurse guided the boat towards the riverbank where we climbed out and began to walk through the dawn of the day. Mouse was obviously relieved to be on dry land again and barked excitedly, but I quickly made the war-dog sign for silence and he fell into step beside me. Neither Edward nor I questioned Ara as she led us through the fields and then eventually to a rise in the land that climbed slowly up and on to a wide plain of rolling grassland. Again time and distance acted strangely as Ara kept up a constant mumbled monologue that wove itself through and around the croaks, grunts and mumbles of her ravens.
I looked at my brother and he shrugged silently. Obviously he felt the same as me; it was almost as though we were watching the making of magic as the three creatures of the old gods embroidered a sound tapestry of scinncraeft that was taking us to my father and his army.
Before us the wide chalk downland spread as far as the horizon with hardly a tree or stand of gorse to break up the long rolling undulations. Far above us buzzards circled, their high fierce calls torn to sound ribbons by the wind. But then I thought I caught a different noise. It was faint and distant and sounded like waves crashing on a pebbly shore.
Ara stopped and nodded to herself. “The battle-song hasn’t yet begun. But it will soon.”
“Is it far now?” I asked.
She smiled. “We’re there.”
I felt Edward’s hand grab mine, and my head spun as suddenly we stood on a small rising of ground and looked out over a shallow valley. How and when we actually got there, I’ve no idea, but the valley undoubtedly lay before us.
At one end the land rose more steeply and there, at last, stood the Danish Great Army! Their shields were black and they all wore the same byrnie, or long leather tunic, which was studded with protecting rings and discs. Above them flew a banner showing a white horse, the personal insignia of Guthrum himself.
At the opposite end of the valley stood my father and his army. I shouted a wordless cry of greeting and Edward added his voice to mine as did Mouse. But of course they were too far off to hear us. I could see Father standing and staring up the valley to where the Danes held their position. With him were the thousand, trained and disciplined and all with red-painted shields and shirts of mail. And around them stood the part-time soldiers of the fyrd. These carried shields of many different colours and in a wide state of repair, ranging from good to badly worn and splintered. They also wore what armour they had. Some had helmets, some just woollen hoods; some had spears, others just wooden clubs, pitchforks, or even the sickles they would have used to harvest the wheat of the season. But they stood in disciplined ranks, their shield wall already raised and joining seamlessly with the solid barrier of the thousand.
Their numbers seemed endless, filling the lower end of the valley. But the Danish army was bigger, their black shields and dark byrnies flowing over the contours of the slopes, as black and threatening as the shadow of a storm cloud. And as we watched, they sang, their deep voices rolling and swelling in a war chant as fierce as the howling of the wind and the bellowing of fighting stags.
“Look at that!” Edward whispered, his tone strung between awe and fear. “Who can stand against them? Who can stop them?”
“Father can!” I answered loyally, but my flesh crept, and as I watched them the Danes suddenly moved as one. It was a war dance, but there was nothing soft or gentle about it. Their shields opened and then rose above them as they stomped forward and then back in perfect unison, showing their discipline, showing their power, and still they sang as they flowed and swayed in a dance that made my heart pound with fear.
“Er ... wouldn’t it be better if we were ... you know ... with the Saxon army?” Edward said, obviously feeling as exposed as I was. “We could be attacked.”
“No one can see us,” Ara answered.
“Why not?” I asked. “We’re against the skyline here.”
“We’re the colour of the sky and the land around. If anyone sees us at all, they’ll think we’re a stand of gorse or small trees.”
Scinncraeft again, I thought, but said nothing.
We went on watching as the Danes sang and stomped their war
dance, their voices and the rhythmic beating of their spears on shields echoing over the valley. I turned to see what my father would do, but the entire Saxon force offered only total silence and stillness to the chanting and dancing of the Great Army.
Suddenly the Danes surged forward, a great roar rising up from their ranks, but it was only a feint and they fell back in perfect unison again as they tried to draw out the Saxons and make them break their shield wall. But still our people stood in total silence waiting for the moment to strike.
Soon the quiet stillness of our army began to impress itself on the entire atmosphere of the valley. It became almost eerie, as though the Danes were not facing a force of mortal soldiers, but something else entirely, something from a place other than this middle Earth where we live.
It seemed that the Great Army felt it too, and they made a feint again, their voices clamouring to a huge pitch as though they were attempting to drown the Saxon silence. But beneath it all the silence remained, as did the stillness, and the Danes fell back once more to their original position.
“What’s Father doing?” Edward asked. “Guthrum will never abandon his stand; it’s too strong. They have to risk an attack.”
“They will,” I answered. “Just wait.”
And we didn’t have to wait long. As we watched, a figure stepped forward and raised his sword, glittering in the spring sunshine, then suddenly chopped it down. As one the Saxon army stepped forward and advanced, their shields overlapping like the scales on a dragon’s back. But still they remained silent, despite the roaring and howling of the Danes, as they watched their enemy advance.
Father and the Saxon army walked at a steady pace, the unbroken line of shields rising and falling over the contours of the land. A charge uphill would have exhausted them before the battle had properly begun.
The Great Army feinted forward again, trying to draw the Saxon lines out, but discipline was maintained even by the fyrd who were known for their wild charge. Then when they were within a few long paces of the Danish shields a lone voice rose up and suddenly the Saxons leapt forward like a greyhound chasing a hare, a huge roar erupted from their throats at last, and they smashed into the enemy line like a battering ram.
Ranhald and Raarken added their voices to the raging din that now exploded into the air. Shield ground against shield, sword hacked against sword and dozens of warriors fell in the opening seconds of the battle.
A gentle wind played over the valley and brought with it the mingled scents of fresh grass, wildflowers and blood. For a moment I felt sick, but then I forced myself to breathe deeply. This was the truth and reality of battle. If I was to be a shield maiden and a true Cerdinga this would be my art and my trade. If I wanted to carve a new shape for the world then I must accept the blood and damage caused by the act of doing it.
But then my attention was distracted by movement on the field and I watched as the fyrd, to the left and the right of the thousand, suddenly extended like the unfolding wings of a giant bird and swung round to attack both Danish flanks.
“I wish I was down there!” Edward shouted above the noise. “I wish I was standing with Father against Guthrum and his army!”
I watched as he danced from foot to foot and almost chewed the rim of his shield in excitement and frustration.
“Me too,” I said quietly and wondered why I was so cold compared to Edward’s hot-headed excitement.
“Because you think,” said Ara in my ear. “And you calculate.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not at all surprised that she’d heard my thoughts. “I want to fight as much as Edward.”
“Oh yes, I know, your brother may have the brute killing power and instinct of a wolf, but you ... you, My Lady, have the thinking ferocity of a fox.”
I nodded. This was the first time that Ara had called me My Lady, something that underlined for me the magnitude and importance of the time. “The fox and the wolf would make formidable allies,” I said.
“Indeed you will, My Lady, and the Danes will learn that lesson in the future.”
I turned to look at her sharply, but then the tone of the battle’s roar changed and I quickly turned back to watch as the thousand pressed forward, driving towards the White Horse banner of Guthrum’s bodyguard.
Mouse barked, his huge voice echoing over the valley, and Edward and I screamed aloud in excitement and encouragement as Father and his warriors hacked and smashed their way forward. Dozens fell in the Danish wall, but there were always more warriors to bravely step up and close the breach.
I shouted and shouted until my throat burned and then ... then my head began to spin, sound and vision swirled into a muddle of tangled image and noise and then cleared, and all of us stood in the line of battle!
There was no time to think or wonder. Years of training kicked in and immediately Edward and I locked our shields into the wall of the thousand who stood to either side of us and Mouse took up his position as trained, beneath the lower rim of my shield. Ara and her ravens seemed to rise over it all, their eyes wild and raving.
“NO! NO! How can this be? This should not be! You’re too young to fight,” she shouted and raised her arms above her head as Ranhald and Raarken called and called into the chaos.
Then Edward, Mouse and I were drawn back with the thousand as they gathered themselves and then exploded forward again in a great heave against the enemy shield wall.
My entire vision was filled with the screaming face of a Dane. I drove my sword straight-armed at his gaping mouth, and as I drew it back the face sank from view.
Edward hacked at the exposed neck of a Viking as he over-reached, trying to stab my brother with his spear. The blade bit deep and the enemy fell. Mouse still stood with me, an extra weapon that protected my left side, but then I nudged him with my leg, the signal to attack when the din of battle made spoken commands useless, and with a great roar he leapt at the line of Danes. The thick spiked collar he wore saved him from a spear thrust and clamping his jaws around the Viking’s throat he tore it open.
My body seemed filled with a power and strength I’d never felt before, and I wasn’t afraid. There was no time for fear as I thrust and parried, smashed and hacked at the wall of Danes before me. I was aware of Edward standing next to me and as I quickly glanced at him I saw his face set in an intense grin of fury that I knew my own face reflected. This was what it was like to feel the battle-fury I’d heard the poets sing of so many times in my father’s halls. This was power! This was elation! This was the heritage of the fighting Cerdingas!
The enemy line stood solid and unbroken before us and after surging back we drove forward once more with the thousand to break it. Our hedge of spears met their shields and the noise of onset rose up again. I was one part of the whole army and as one we moved in to fight the enemy. My sword rose and fell striking all who opposed me. Edward fought with a fury, his shield locked with mine, making the men of the Great Army step back before his flashing blade. Again and again I struck at the warriors of the enemy and they fell only to be replaced by others who fought with a dogged determination that was matched only by my own. Mouse fought beside me, leaping forward and using his weight to drag another Dane out of the wall.
Ahead I could see the White Horse banner of Guthrum and I joined the push towards it, Edward marching in step with me. We killed again and again as we moved forward. But the Danes held their line, reforming the wall as each of their warriors fell. My shield was hacked and battered and my sword was notched with the effort of the fight but still I fought on. Mouse covered my left side, tearing sword arms that tried to stab me and leaping bodily at the enemy line whenever they pushed back at us. And still the power of battle-fury drove us on. How long we stood there I don’t know but the sun climbed slowly above us and time seemed to hang on a suspended thread.
But now Ara’s voice rose in power over the noise of the fighting. “I MADE THIS SCINNCRAEFT! I MADE THIS MAGIC! I DO NOT ALLOW IT A MIND OF ITS OWN! NOW TAKE US BACK T
O THE PLACE OF SAFETY!” And once again my head span and all noise and vision mingled in an explosion of the senses in my head. Then when it cleared we all stood once again on the rising ground above and away from the battle.
Edward and I turned to each other and after staring at the blood-spattered patterns that covered us both, we suddenly laughed aloud and hugged each other.
“So the calculating fox can feel the fury too,” said Ara darkly.
“Are you surprised? Have you never seen a vixen hunting prey for her cubs?” I asked.
“Indeed I have,” the wise woman replied. “And I’ve thanked the gods I was no victim of hers when I did.”
I smiled and turned back to watch the battle, my hand resting on Mouse’s broad head.
The bloody struggle went on for an entire day. Both sides standing toe to toe, the thousand against Guthrum’s warriors, as the fyrd swirled around in a fire of raging attacks that burst against the enemy shield wall and then withdrew before bursting forward again and again throughout the long hours.
But at last, as the sun sank slowly towards the horizon, the figure of my father stepped forward from the ranks of the thousand and as he raised his sword, his elite warriors formed a fighting wedge, with their king at its apex, just as they had in their first raid against the Danes. With a great roar they stabbed in a mighty thrust at the line of shields before them. The clamour of this new onset rose up above the valley, and with a great grinding screech of metal on metal, sword on sword and spear on spear, the shield wall at last broke open and the Saxons drove deep into the wound they’d made.
A roar of despair rose up from the Danes and we watched screaming in excitement as the White Horse banner trembled and then slowly fell. The Viking lines at last began to waver and then, like a sea mist before a freshening wind, the Great Army began to break apart as the warriors we once thought were invincible threw down their shields and ran!
Ara raised her arms and her voice mingled with the victory call of her ravens as the Saxons rolled forward over their enemy.
