by Griff Hosker
“What I want to know is how come it is us daft buggers who are stuck on this fucking bridge while the Viking bastards are getting pissed on the other side of the bridge?”
Another voice, less drunk mumbled, “Keep your voice down! Remember what Lord Egbert said, if we let them get drunk then we will have the first choice of the booty when we enter the city.”
The first man, who looked vaguely familiar spat over the bridge into the river. “That is a fool’s dream these hairy arsed bastards can hold their ale. They could be as pissed as a churchman and still be able to get to the booty first. Lord Egbert is talking out of his arse. Now if Lord Edward had said that…”
I then remembered where I had seen the man; he had been with my brothers when they had arrived, drunk, in the warrior’s hall in Jorvik. I did not think we would learn anything else of use and I slipped back to return to Ridley and the others. I was awoken, in the hours before dawn by the arrival of King Harold, Sweyn and Aethelward.
They looked exhausted but greeted me warmly. “Well nephew, I am pleased that you survived the disaster at Fulford.”
Before I could give him an account of the battle an impatient Harold shot an irritated glance at Aethelward and took my arm. “That is in the past Aethelward. Aelfraed, you scouted the bridge tell me now of their dispositions.”
I smiled, “It is as though they wish us to be victorious your majesty.” I relayed to him the information we had discovered and the fact that there were Northumbrians who were aiding Tostig.
“Well done Aelfraed. How many men are there west of the river?”
“No more than a thousand majesty.”
“And your men can watch the bridge without being seen?”
“Yes, I will send them out again at dawn.”
“Jorvik has surrendered?”
“Aye but as yet they have not handed it over. Hadrada seems happy enough to wait and save his men.”
“Well Morcar and Edwin may have slightly redeemed themselves although I would have preferred them to fight for we would have attacked his forces whilst they were engaged.”
Aethelward spoke in the dark. “And the fleet?”
“We damaged a few of their boats and they drew off a force to protect them. Perhaps one in ten of the army is now waiting some way south, close to Riccall.”
“Excellent that was well done but it means, my lord, that we will need to leave a force here to repel them should they try to reinforce Hadrada.”
“No I want to defeat this Hadrada once and for all and then get back to the south coast. We will risk the boat guards attacking us. They are many miles to the south. At least we have time to bring the army here and attack when we choose.”
“Where is the army your majesty? “
“Close to Elvington.” I could detect a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I would have camped closer to Fulford but I did not want the heart ripped out of my men seeing the scene of the battle.” He turned to me. “Tell me now what went wrong?”
I wondered how to say that it was his appointments as Earls which had led to the disaster. I remembered my uncle’s words about truth and I did not try to gloss over any of the errors. “Our intelligence was not as it should have been. Mercia did not wish to tire out his horses scouting and we only had a warning if but a few hours. Then the place of battle was badly chosen. The Earl declined to claim the high ground. Finally, your majesty, his dispositions were a little flawed. The Earl of Northumbria had a swamp on his flank and a stream behind. The Earl of Mercia anchored his horse by the river but placed spearmen before him.”
“And the centre?” I suspect that Aethelward knew the answer to that question.
“Ridley, Scarborough , Skipton and myself were given that honour.”
I saw the look exchanged between the two friends. “And the battle?”
“It started well enough. Earl Morcar pushed back the weaker troops before him but they lost cohesion and when Hadrada fed in his better troops they recoiled and had nowhere left to go but the swamp. They then attacked Scarborough and Ridley. At the same time he attacked Earl Edwin and many of the fyrd were slaughtered or pushed into the river.”
“And you nephew?”
“We were the point of the arrow fighting on two sides but we were helped by the fact that they pushed on either side. When the Earls fled the field and were pursued our small band of survivors were left with the dead. We headed south and that is when we attacked their fleet.”
The silence which followed was eloquent. The flight of the two leaders before the battle was decided was criminal in the eyes of Harold and Aethelward; the choice of the battlefield another. I had fought enough times with the two men to know that a well chosen battlefield could save men’s lives and win the battle. “You have done well Thegn Aelfraed. When we have time we will reward you.”
“Thank you majesty but I require no reward; just the opportunity to find my brothers on the field for they fight with Tostig.”
“Edwin and his brood are here?”
“Aye we captured one of Edward’s men and heard others. They are here all right.”
“Well Aelfraed if you send your scouts out and Sweyn you bring the army here we can prepare to end this debacle. When they have arrived we will choose the moment to attack.”
By the time the army had arrived it was noon and the day, for late September was unseasonably hot. Branton had returned and told us that the Norwegians were lazing around the camp and engaged in horseplay in the river. The King and Aethelward held a brief conference. When they gave us their orders we were all eager to bring this horde to battle. Aethelward addressed the Thegns. “We attack those on the western bank first. Lord Aelfraed will lead the attack for his men have had time to rest and the King’s Housecarls will be in reserve. When those on the western side have been disposed of then the Housecarls will attack the bridge and lead the assault on their main camp.”
Ridley and Scarborough patted me on the back and I did feel honoured. My men also took the fact that we were to be the vanguard as a mark of honour and their prowess. As we gathered in the woods I ordered Branton and his archers to precede us with all the slingers. Placing Ridley to my right and Skipton and Scarborough to the left we began to advance. I was overjoyed to see that the Norwegians had no armour and their arms were stacked. It would not be a victory filled with honour but I had no doubt that our attack would be successful. The flights of arrows killed all they struck. I dressed my shield wall once we emerged into open ground and then roared the charge. It was not combat, it was a massacre. No-one could stand against us and soon the bridge was filled with fleeing warriors eager to escape the deadly blades of my vanguard.
We should have been able to win quickly that day for our surprise was complete but three warriors thwarted us. Scarborough and Skipton were closer to the bridge than I and they led their men across the narrow bridge. The three men who faced them were naked save for their axes. I could see, from their wild appearance that they had worked themselves up into the state that the Norse called berserk. It meant they would fight to the death and would be impervious to wounds. Aethelward had told me of such men and even he feared them for it took many blows to kill them. It struck me that they must have come from the eastern side of the river or they would be already dead and would not have time to work themselves up.
As it transpired Scarborough raced across the bridge with his men at arms to attack the three naked men wielding double handed axes. Scarborough was a brave and doughty warrior but he had no chance against those three warriors. His head flew from his body to land with a splash in the river below. His enraged men threw themselves at the berserkers but swiftly followed their lord to their deaths. Skipton was more cautious and he led his men towards the three with spears levelled. In part, it worked, for one of the berserkers was pierced by four spears. Even mortally wounded he still threw himself at Skipton with his axe. The brave Thegn calmly decapitated him. Stepping over the body his small band advanced but Skipton fell t
o the leader of the remaining two. As I heard the tramp of feet as Sweyn and his Housecarls arrived to begin their assault I could not but help admire the remaining two brave men. The blood dripped from their bodies from their wounds. In a detached way I thought that if I had not used Branton and his archers to kill the others they would have had arrows enough to kill these brave men. Skipton’s men threw themselves at the last two berserkers to gain revenge for their dead lord. Although most died one of Skipton’s brave Housecarls dived with his sword forwards to strike one berserker in the neck and throw him from the bridge. He was dead before the berserker hit the water as the last man killed him.
“Right lads we have pissed around enough. Let us show this big bastard what the King’s Housecarls can do.”
Sweyn’s words were greeted by a roar. I stepped forwards. “Sweyn wait.”
“What Aelfraed, you want more glory?”
“No old friend I want to save some lives. Branton.” My archer appeared and I threw him Boar Splitter. I had spotted a half barrel they had used as a boat tied to the bank. “Take the barrel and go beneath the bridge.” Branton was a clever warrior and he grinned as he saw what I intended. He took two of his archers and pushed off. “Now you can attack Sweyn and I will get my glory later.” I grinned to take the arrogance out of my words.
He patted my shoulder and shouted. “Wedge!”
I saw the formation take shape and smiled as Osgar stepped out. “You can always join us my lord. We still have room.”
“Now that you are here you will not need me.”
The berserker prepared himself. The wedge could not be its normal shape for the bridge was only wide enough for four men but Sweyn stepped forwards and I saw Ulf at his right shoulder. Even without Branton I thought that they would be victorious but there were almost forty dead men on the bridge who urged caution. The Norwegian was hurling insults at Sweyn but they were unintelligible gibberish to us. It mattered not as long as his focus remained on the wedge.
The bridge was not built in the Roman style, out of stone, but in the Danish manner, out of wood and the boards had split over the years. I saw Branton position the boat beneath the feet of the warrior who braced himself for the attack as he swung his huge axe around his head. Suddenly a look of surprise erupted on his face as Boar Splitter slid up between his legs splitting first his manhood, ripping into his bowels and entrails and eviscerating him. Although I could not see I knew that Branton would push up and then twist the weapon to withdraw it. As I saw the bloody mass of gizzard and guts spill onto the bridge I knew that the berserker was dead. Sweyn stepped up and with one blow cut the man in two. The wedge poured over the bridge.
I felt my uncle’s hand on my shoulder. “You did well Aelfraed but I am afraid that those brave men undid your good work.” He pointed to the shield wall which was now being formed on the far side of the bridge. The men were not in armour but they were ready. This would not be a quick day’s battle, this would be two similar armies standing toe to toe and it would be last man standing. “Take your men across the river and stand to the right of the Housecarls.”
He limped off to instruct the other leaders. A grinning Branton appeared with Boar Splitter in his hand. “We should rename this Dane Splitter!”
“You did well. Get your men to gather as many arrows as you can and then line up behind us.”
We lined up some way short of the Norse line. We knew that they had no archers and that they could not and would not charge and we stood there with impunity, our warriors trading insults with enemy. We all became silent when Harold rode up unaccompanied. He rode towards the twin standards of Tostig and the Norwegian king. No one tried to molest or attack him and he faced his half brother.
“Brother. It is not too late to rejoin your English brethren and to turn on this Norwegian usurper.”
“I hear that Duke William calls you usurper.”
“You would have a Norman as king of England?” Tostig had no answer and was silent. “I will give you my Earldom, Wessex and all its lands, if you join with us and fight Hadrada.”
Those Norse who could speak English began to mumble at this although the Norse king stood impassively, his great axe resting on the ground. I could see that the idea tempted Tostig for Wessex was the richest part of England. The greedy Tostig, no doubt thinking of the Danegeld in the past, slyly asked, “And What would you offer Hadrada?”
Harold looked contemptuously at the Norse king and said, "Six feet of ground or as much more as he needs, as he is taller than most men." We were all close enough to hear this and the whole of the English army burst out laughing. One of Hadrada’s men, aroused by the insult hurled his spear at Harold who merely turned his head and it sailed over his head to land harmlessly at my feet.
I picked it up and turned around, “Here Branton. In case you get the chance to geld another Norseman.” As the spear was passed back, my men laughed at the joke.
When Harold returned to our ranks we knew that the time for humour was gone and it was now the serious business of fighting and dying for his face was both sad and serious. He knew that this day would see many Englishmen die and more importantly there would be fewer Englishmen to face the Normans when they eventually arrived. Had his brother accepted his offer who knows how different the future might have been?
He nodded to Sweyn who shouted, “Wedge!” and my old comrades formed themselves into a wedge. We would not be following suit for Aethelward wanted us to bring the maximum blades into action while we faced unarmoured foes. Sweyn and his Housecarls would be facing the elite of the Norse army and they would be the hardest to defeat. The three berserkers had given us the measure of our enemies.
As we walked towards the waiting enemies I glanced down their line to see if I could see my brothers but their banners were not in evidence. Perhaps they had fled before the battle. That would not have surprised me but it would disappoint me for I wanted to end this and send my brother’s souls to the next world. I hoped that their perfidy would cause them to burn in the Christian hell but I cared not so long as they were dead. That day we were not at the heart of the battle for that honour was reserved for Sweyn and my comrades. We could not see what went on there but we had more than enough to do with the enemies before us. “Branton save your arrows; for they will strike only shields. Kill any who are on the ground and save your arrows for easier targets.”
“Yes my lord.”
I heard Ridley’s voice call from the right. “I have seen your brothers! They are to the right of me!”
I cursed. If I left my place to fight them then I would leave Osgar, whom I could see a few paces to my left, exposed. My personal fight would have to wait until later. “Keep an eye on him.”
“It will be just the one as these Norse look to be big buggers!”
After that there was no time to talk. “Men of Topcliffe let us avenge our friends. Charge” We were only ten paces from the Norse but we managed to gather impetus and clashed with them. Even as we struck, Boar Splitter lanced towards the face of the warrior before me. My shield arm reacted before my eyes and deflected the axe which hacked at me. I stepped over his body and noticed that Osbert and Aedgart had killed their opponents. My next enemy had seen what I had done and he was prepared with his shield close to his face. I feinted with my blade and punched with my shield. He went backwards but did not fall for those behind were pushing hard against him; this was a shield wall. The two lines were now locked and I was too close to him to spear him but the man behind him was now close enough and Boar Splitter struck his eye and entered his brain, he fell back and the pressure before us lessened. We pushed forwards and while punching with the shield I head butted the man facing me who had no nasal on his helmet. The crack of the bone breaking and the spurting blood told me that I had hurt him. Dropping Boar Splitter, I drew my sword and stabbed him beneath his shield. He too fell. Glancing to my right I saw that Osbert still stood but he had taken a spear cut to the cheek. Aedgart’s arm was bleeding. Our en
emies were making life hard for us despite their lack of armour.
Although we were not in wedge the three of us in the centre of our line were gradually edging ahead of our comrades. My men were well trained enough to take advantage of this. I was confident that Osgar to my left and Ridley to my right would protect my flanks and I pushed forwards. Had I been an eagle soaring high in the sky I would have seen the effect of this on the enemy line for we were forcing apart the centre of the Norse line from the Northumbrian traitors on their left. It was slow and it was inexorable but it was inevitable. Branton and his archers were spilling across the field along with the local fyrd to kill and despoil any Norse that they found; ahead were the enemy but behind us lay only the dead.
The Northumbrians and Norse who fought us could see the banners of their leaders edging away and they renewed their efforts against us. Rather than weakening us it helped for when they swung their blades and axes they were exposing themselves to counter blows. Had they been armoured the blows would have done little damage but they sliced and slashed into unguarded flesh. Weakened, they continued to fight but wounded as they were they were doomed to die. Suddenly we found ourselves with allies and friends to our rear as we split the army into two. Unknown to me, Aethelward had seen what we were doing and it was being repeated on our left as he directed the battle from his horse. Within an hour we had split Tostig and Hadrada from their men.
For my part I had to concentrate upon those to the fore. We cursed and we swore and suddenly I was aware that those before us were English. We had fought through the Norse to the traitors. “Let’s kill these treacherous traitors and send them to hell!”
It was when they began their chant that I knew I faced the warriors of my brothers, “Runt! Runt! Runt!”
Rather than enraging me it calmed me. I glanced along the line to my right and saw Ridley at the head of his wedge but like mine it was barely formed. I shouted, “Topcliffe, Coxold halt! Wedges!” My brother’s men were too surprised to react quickly for they were neither well trained nor led but our men were and we had two wedges in the blinking of an eye. I sheathed my sword, slipped my shield around my back and drew Death Bringer. Being at the front I did not have to worry about the rhythm of the swing and I started the deadly dance of death. I knew that the two friends Osbert and Aedgart would already be in time with both me and each other. My first victim started in horror at the blade which seemed to sing as it sank towards him hacking down his neck and into his chest. The second one was a lucky hit for I caught the next fellow on the upswing, the edge slicing upwards from his chin. Osbert and Aedgart were equally successful and those behind, using swords and spears, were also winning their combats. We were deep in their lines and the terror was everywhere. I saw Egbert two ranks ahead of me. Even as I swung my blade, I was able to detach my thoughts from what I was doing. Egbert should have been in the front rank as Ridley and I but instead he had a wall of bodies before him. I wondered why I had grown up living in such fear of a bully, a cowardly bully at that.
