Shield Maiden

by Stuart Hill

  Slowly I raised the hilt of my sword to my forehead in salute, and then swung it down and held it at what I hoped was rather a fetching angle, away from my mail-clad figure.

  I then watched as Ethelred stepped forward from the ranks. He too was in full battle array and looked just as I imagine the young god Thunor would have looked before striding into combat.

  “I see you carry the noble device of Wessex on your shield, but who do I have the honour of addressing?” he called.

  “One you know,” I replied.

  “A shield maiden, I see, and high-ranking, but which one of that kind marches in the army of King Alfred?”

  I sheathed my sword and then removed my helmet.

  A short silence followed that was suddenly broken as Ethelred laughed. “The king’s daughter, I see. Greetings, Princess Aethelflaed.”

  “Greetings, Ealdorman Ethelred,” I answered, then said with formal politeness, “You are very welcome as part of the army that will defeat Guthrum and his pirates.”

  Ethelred sketched a polite little bow and smiled, his face alight. “Thank you, My Lady. I’m glad to be part of any army that counts you among its ranks.”

  I hurriedly put my helmet back on to hide my blushes. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with insults than compliments. Then I marched with Ethelred at the head of his army as they entered the town and were cheered by the population who were still afraid enough of Guthrum to be relieved when they saw more Saxon soldiers arriving.

  When we arrived at the ancient ‘moot tree’ where legal disputes had been settled for literally centuries – or so the people of Guildford claimed – I still walked with him, matching him step for step. He approached my father who, as the ‘bretwalda’ or war leader for the coming battle, waited to greet him formally.

  It was hard to tell what Father thought about me taking it upon myself to meet and then march with Ethelred, but he smiled happily at us both and seemed very pleased about something.

  Of course there was another feast of greeting that night in the town’s mead hall, putting more pressure on Guildford’s supplies. However, Ethelred had had the good grace and foresight to bring supplies along with him, which helped with costs and made him very popular with the locals.

  “How do you like Mercian meat, My Lady?” he asked during the meal.

  What sort of answer could I give to that? “It’s ... er ... it’s very nice ... juicy!” I managed at last and tried to ignore my toes, which were curling with embarrassment.

  Father had made a great show of sitting me next to Ethelred when the feast began, but the effort was completely wasted because I couldn’t think of anything interesting to say, and anyway the ealdorman spent most of his time discussing battle tactics with Father. Just like last time.

  Edward was sitting further down the table, but he still managed to catch my eye and grin while doing something obscene with a carrot on his plate. I soon felt a little better when I threw an apple down the table and it hit him with a really satisfying clunk.

  Edward rubbed his head frowning, but he was soon grinning again and mouthed ‘Good shot!’ at me. Males may be irritating, but sometimes brothers aren’t too bad.

  X

  For the next few days the army waited for the scouting parties to come back with news of Guthrum. The combined forces of Wessex and Mercia numbered over ten thousand fighters, so we’d have to move soon if Guildford was going to have any food supplies left to see them through the next winter.

  Training went on to keep everyone battle-ready, but then Father decided that I should practice with Ethelred and his war band. He never explained why, just smiled secretly to himself and nodded encouragingly. I must admit I’ve never felt such an excruciating mix of emotions! I was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if I made a fool of myself? What if Ethelred decided I wasn’t good enough to fight with his elite warriors? He was too experienced a soldier to let me take a position in his shield wall if I wasn’t up to standard; he wouldn’t risk the lives of his fighters.

  But I needn’t have worried. His war band soon accepted me and I held my position in the shield wall without any difficulty, as did Mouse, protecting my left side and leaping out to seize whichever poor soul was playing the enemy whenever the opportunity arose. I’d originally been given a place in the battle formation next to Ethelred himself, probably because it was felt he might need to protect me, the daughter of his paramount ally, but when he saw I was a capable fighter it was generally agreed that I’d earned my place of honour as a warrior.

  What can I say? Even though Guthrum and the Great Army were once again threatening our lives and our lands, I was happier than I can ever remember being! I trained every day with Ethelred and his soldiers, who all treated me with respect and as a warrior with an equal standing to their own. And life was exciting, with a purpose beyond the usual round of the everyday and the ordinary. I even think I’d have been content if the situation had continued like that indefinitely.

  But then one day the scouts who’d been sent out to find the enemy returned, and their reports were urgent. Guthrum and the Great Army were besieging Rochester, and though the town was resisting well behind its new defences and with its trained garrison of professional housecarles, they wouldn’t be able to hold out forever.

  Father, as the senior king in the alliance, called for ‘Roman speed’, which he duly got. The combined armies broke camp and were marching for Rochester within two hours. We left Guildford at dawn without any ceremony and as it was so early there were very few citizens up and about to see us go.

  The weather had been fine and dry for more than a week and the roads were good and mud free, which is why we reached Rochester within four days, a breathtaking speed. On Father’s orders I’d marched with the Mercians and though I stayed close to Ethelred, there was little time for idle chat. He was constantly busy, walking up and down the line, giving orders and asking for reports. I watched keenly as he directed his field army; I wanted to know everything there was to know about commanding a fighting force and here I had a master of the craft to learn from.

  Rochester is one of the principle towns on the River Medway and the Great Army had sailed their fleet of dreaded dragon boats right up to its defences and beached them below its walls. We caught the enemy by surprise and as we were already in battle formation we hardly paused as we marched over the hills surrounding the Medway valley and charged down on their siege lines.

  Any lesser force would have broken and fled if they’d found themselves unexpectedly confronted by an army of over ten thousand warriors. But this was the Danish Great Army; every one of its fighters was battle-experienced and as tough as boiled leather. When our war horns growled out their challenge, the enemy commanders barked orders and their entire force wheeled about as smoothly as cogs in a machine and faced us with shields locked and spears levelled.

  Then the singing began: their voices were fierce and deep and rolled around the valley like the roaring of a mighty beast that had somehow developed a sense of rhythm. Our reply was simple and sharp, a single word spat out again and again like a hail of arrows.

  “OUT! Out! Out!”

  “OUT! Out! Out!”

  “OUT! Out! Out!”

  We hit them at a dead run, our shields locked, our spears a deadly hedge of razor steel. The thundering crash as we met echoed around the hills and we drove forward like a battering ram deep into their lines. My spear shattered in my hand and I drew my sword to hack again and again at the wall of shields before me. The Great Army gave back before our ferocity, but then a huge shout went up from their lines and with a heave they pushed against us, dug their feet into the ground and stood like a mighty rock before our storm.

  Shield wall crashed against shield wall and neither side gave back. As each warrior fell, another stepped over their body to take their place in the wall. My sword arm ran red, beside me Ethelred fought with the power and cunning of a wolf, and Mouse ran in to bring down man after man.


  But the force of our charge had been absorbed and our momentum was lost. Now it was a battle of endurance. Which side would break first? It seemed we fought for hours and still neither would give ground. My world was reduced to the few metres I could see clearly around me. I killed again and again and still the enemy stood and answered violence and rage with rage and violence. It seemed that nothing would ever change and we’d fight on until we too fell to the axe, spear or sword.

  But then even over the din and rage of the battle I heard harsh, deep voices calling, and there above me I saw two ravens flying black against the pristine blue of the sky.

  “Ranhald and Raarken!” I shouted, and they circled over me, calling and calling. A living Raven banner.

  “Let us break this line of skraelings and outlanders,” a voice said in my ear and I turned to see Ara beside me, her grey hair wild in a wind that nobody felt, her black eyes bright with a fire of power.

  She leaned towards the enemy and spat a word I couldn’t catch and two Danes immediately fell. Perhaps unseen arrows had hit them, perhaps they slipped on blood-slick grass; I have no other explanation.

  “Ara, what are you doing here?” I shouted over the din.

  “Fighting, My Lady,” she answered and smiled in a way that made her face look like a skull.

  Ranhald and Raarken now dropped from the sky to land on her shoulders, and as she strode forward, the enemy began to recede before her, a look of terror on their faces as the pagan Danes recognised a wise woman of power. Ethelred, being the good commander he was, seized the moment and advanced beside Ara and our shield wall followed.

  Now the wise woman raised her arms above her head and let out a shriek that stabbed through the air like a blade. Almost immediately there was an answering roar and somehow I knew that the soldiers of Rochester had opened their gates and were attacking the Great Army at the rear.

  To my left I could also see the White Dragon banner of Wessex driving forward, and as our two ravens flew up into the air, their voices raucous and challenging, the Great Army let out a despairing roar and ran.

  Now began a deadly chase, and many of the enemy scrambled down towards the river and their dragon boats that lay drawn up on the banks.

  “DON’T LET THEM ESCAPE!” A huge voice bellowed. “BURN THEIR SHIPS! BURN THEIR SHIPS!” It was then that I realised the voice was mine, and that the soldiers around me were obeying what they’d taken to be an order.

  I led the way with Ethelred and Mouse beside me, and as the broken enemy fell and scrambled down on to the riverbank they turned to fight. We didn’t even pause to redress our ranks, we just smashed into them, driving them back into the water and slaughtering them in their hundreds.

  Now Ara appeared again, a blazing torch held high in each hand and Ranhald and Raarken flying above her. With a wordless cry she threw one of the torches into the nearest ship and it immediately burst into flames. Her hands were somehow never empty of flaming torches and she handed them out to the warriors that clamoured about her, and who then ran to throw them into the beached ships. Soon over half of the Great Army’s fleet was ablaze.

  But the Danes are fierce and tough fighters, and despite our best efforts, many escaped in the dragon boats that remained. Those warriors left on land, after the initial rout, reformed their lines and began a fighting retreat that lasted for the rest of the day.

  Then as the sun began to set over the land, Father finally called off his army and we stood and watched as the enemy slipped away into the gathering shadows. I found that I was still standing with Ethelred and his Mercians and not knowing that I spoke aloud I said, “What will happen now? Where will they go?”

  “I think Guthrum still lives,” Ethelred answered. “He’ll lead his army back into East Anglia where they’ll reform and attack again.”

  “Even after we’ve beaten them?” I asked, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “Oh yes, the Great Army isn’t like other fighting forces: you can’t destroy it completely. It’s like a dragon of legend; if you cut off its head it’ll crawl away and grow another and then breathe fire at you again.”

  “So what can we do?” I asked as the elation of our victory began to drain away.

  “Fight them again,” Ethelred answered quietly. “And then again and again, until it finally gets tired of growing new heads and goes away to find other victims.”

  “But that can’t be right,” I said feeling anger rising to a new pitch of outrage within me. “We must find a new way of killing it ... or ... or perhaps of taming it and making it harmless.”

  “Harmless?”

  “Yes,” I said and then paused as I slowly thought my way forward through the exhaustion of battle. “In parts the Danes have settled on this island ... made it their own, whether we like it or not. They’ve mixed their blood with our people’s, and these new children, born of this mixing, are part of us. But they have to be made part of us. Their new lands and settlements must become part of our lands and settlements ... and ... and I suppose we must become part of theirs too.”

  “And how would you make this happen? How could you make this happen?”

  “In a way they would understand and couldn’t deny. By battle and conquest. But after that ... I don’t know ... by alliance ...? By friendship ...?”

  Ethelred turned to look at me squarely, his armour was battered and bent, he was covered in blood and he looked as exhausted as I felt, but suddenly he laughed and seized me in an embrace. Then he stood back and raising his voice so that the entire Mercian army could hear, he shouted:

  “Behold Aethelflaed, princess and daughter of Wessex! Shield maiden and tamer of dragons!”

  At first I thought he was making fun of me, but then he dropped to one knee and bowed his head like a man before his queen. And before I could do or say anything in reply a strange murmuring rumble began to grow and swell on the air, getting gradually louder and louder until it seemed that the entire day was filled with a massive rhythmic thundering as each and every Mercian soldier beat their swords, axes and spears on their shields in salute.

  XI

  My fancy ideas about making the Danes and Saxons already living on our island one people would have to wait. First we had to defeat the Great Army once and for all. And so began a campaign that would last on and off for years, but which filled our lives to the brim in the following months.

  Immediately after we’d broken the siege of Rochester, the combined armies of Wessex and Mercia fell back on Guildford and after sending out scouts, we waited to see what the Great Army would do next. We didn’t have to wait long and soon we were shadowing the Danes in a long chase that saw many skirmishes but no decisive battle.

  Guildford became our main base of operations, but this time Father had learnt a valuable lesson from Ethelred when he and his army had first arrived with their own food. He ensured the town was well supplied by settlements throughout Wessex.

  It was a strange time, one of long periods of fighting and marching, followed by briefer times of rest, usually within the protecting walls of Guildford. One night Mouse, Edward and I were sitting in the great hall of the house we used when we were there, and in an attempt to follow our usual rule of not talking about the war if we could help it, we sat chatting idly about the family.

  “It’s finally happened then,” said Edward. “Aethelgifu’s gone into a convent at last. At least we won’t have to listen to her droning on about God any more.”

  We’d just finished supper and I was feeling comfortable and drowsy as I tried to stretch my legs out towards the central fire without looking like some old battle-hardened housecarle. “Don’t be mean,” I said, determined to defend our younger sister. “She didn’t only talk about God.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Edward admitted. “Sometimes she’d stretch herself to talking about praying and the next church service.”

  “She’d also tell you that you wouldn’t get into heaven and that the devil had a place especially prepared for you in th
e fiery pits.”

  “True,” Edward agreed. “Though I seem to remember that you weren’t going to do much better. What was it ...? ‘Aethelflaed, you’ll be a handmaiden to the lesser demons and spend eternity cleaning up their dung’.”

  “Something like that, yes. She had a charming turn of phrase when she put her mind to it,” I replied and poked Mouse with my toe. He was lying on his back with his paws in the air and playfully tried to chew my shoe as I continued to prod him.

  “You wait until she’s an abbess of her own convent,” Edward went on. “She’ll run the place like an army camp and all the nuns will have to pray on their knees in ranks, like a grovelling shield wall to God.”

  “Who’s this you’re talking about?” a voice suddenly asked and we turned to see Ethelred striding across the hall towards us.

  “Aethelgifu,” Edward said as he pushed out a chair for the Mercian leader with his foot. “She’s gone to be a berserker for God.”

  “A what!?”

  “She’s become a nun, or at least a novice,” I explained. “She’ll take the full vows later.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Ethelred and grinned. “I like the idea of holy berserkers though. We’d soon smash the Danes then.”

  “Yeah! We could send in Aethelgifu and her unit of God-nutters to soften them up first, and then we could wade in with the usual axes and swords and finish them off!” said Edward, getting animated and leaping off his chair to demonstrate, his eyes rolling and saliva drooling down his chin.

  Ethelred laughed and joined in, and I had to remind myself that he was the ruler of Mercia, not just some lad a bit older than me with the same sense of humour as my brother. Then I remembered that he was just a bit older than me ... well ten years or so, but males are always more immature than women, and Ethelred had been forced to take on responsibility for his land when the Danes invaded. So perhaps part of him just hadn’t had the chance to grow up.