Wolves in Armour nc-1 Read online

  Alan shouted to the men around him and they stood, seeming to rise like wraiths from the ground 70 paces ahead of the Danes, hammered sword and axe on their shields and shouted the ancient battle cry of the English, “Out! Out! Out!” The remaining Danes, now about 60 in number, could not resist the challenge and immediately charged the English line as an uncoordinated mob.

  Alan sounded his trumpet again and from the trees on each flank appeared a troop of mounted men-at-arms. They levelled their lances and as one charged the disorganized rabble, hitting them like two fists and punching in both flanks before wheeling to attack the unprotected rear of the Dane’s formation.

  The front rank of the Danes had barely reached the English shield-wall when the main body, now only 20 or so strong, routed and ran for the boats. Half a dozen brave or foolish individuals continued to fight and perished in moments on the swords and spears of the English line. When the fighting was over the English warriors broke ranks and pursued the few remaining Danes down the clearing towards the mudflats.

  Alan quickly called over Baldwin and instructed him to have the horsemen gallop down to the mud-flat, dismount and capture the boats, each of which held only a handful of guards and were grounded solidly in the mud on the outgoing tide. Moments later the riders were on their way, galloping down the corpse-strewn clearing towards the boats.

  “Well, that seemed easy enough,” said a small voice from beside him. Alan turned and saw Anne standing beside him, the top of her head not quite coming up to his shoulder and her long red hair being blown by the breeze that was beginning to spring up. An aged thegn stood next to Anne looking embarrassed.

  Alan removed his helmet, holding it by the nasal guard, and pushed back the coif of mail that covered his head so that it fell back around his shoulders, before using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You’re Wulfgar, aren’t you?” demanded Alan of the thegn, who nodded in reply. “I gave you instructions before, about the protection of your lady. If you were my man, you would now be looking for new employment. When I give you instructions you will follow them, no matter what your lady may say.” Turning to Anne he added, “And you will do what I tell you, at least on the battlefield. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and stop our men massacring the last of the Danes.”

  As he walked away he shouted, “Baldwin! Have our men strip the enemy dead and pile up the arms and armour back there. Any valuables are to be pooled and we’ll share them out tomorrow with the men of Wivenhoe who fought here. Get some men to scour the trees where the fighting took place, tend our wounded and get any dead ready to be sent home for burial.” Turning back he called out to Wulfgar. “Get your geburs to dig a big communal grave for the Danes. I want every sign of this battle removed within the hour. I’ll see you in the village in an hour.”

  Including the guards who had been left on the boats, there were 34 able-bodied or slightly wounded Danes rounded up, stripped of weapons and armour and any valuables and standing under guard. All the badly wounded Danes had been finished off by the English by having their throats cut, the captors believing there was no need for the prisoners to suffer unnecessarily from their injuries.

  The English archers, including Owain, were roaming the battlefield retrieving their arrows for future use. Alan walked up to Owain as he was cutting one of his arrows out of a dead Dane, threw him a purse of silver pennies as said, “When you’ve finished here, go see the Fletcher and see how many shafts he can make for you before dawn.”

  Owain nodded. “This isn’t over yet,” he agreed, slipping the purse into his pocket.

  An hour later Alan was satisfied with progress on tidying up the battlefield, although the mass grave was taking longer than it should. The two boats would be re-floated on the rising tide and Alan ordered them to be taken far up Barfleet Creek between Brightlingsea and Thorrington and hidden as well as possible. Four Danish sailors were released to assist under guard.

  Alan trotted into Wivenhoe mounted on Odin, who was showing his disappointment at missing out on the morning’s activities by tossing his head and sidling whenever he though Alan’s attention had wandered. Alan gave a jerk of the reins to show his displeasure.

  The ride to Wivenhoe took only a few minutes and as he rode onto the village green at the centre of the village Alan was for a moment struck dumb, before he applied his spurs to Odin’s flanks and galloped up to Wulfgar, nearly riding him down in the process. “God’s blood! Are you totally bereft of your senses?” he roared down at Wulfgar from the saddle of the prancing horse. He indicated the village green where soldiers and villagers were mingling, casks of ale had been broached and food was starting to be cooked over open fires, although it was still only mid-morning.

  Anne appeared next to Wulfgar, “What is the problem? The men won a singular victory. Wulfgar told me that it was the best piece of generalship he has ever seen. Since he saw Harold at Stamford Bridge, that’s no mean compliment! The men are entitled to their celebration.”

  Alan looked at the two of them in amasement. “You really don’t understand, do you? Either of you? Lady Anne I can understand, but you should know better, Wulfgar. She may be unfrod and inexperienced but you must be ungleaw and stupid.” In reply to their puzzled expressions he continued speaking slowly as if to village idiots. “Fourteen ships rowed north towards Colchester this morning. They’re probably arriving there about now. I sent a rider to fitzWymarc, so I expect that the fyrd will have been called in, the gates closed and the walls manned. A raiding party that small is unlikely to be able to take Colchester by storm except by unexpected attack. What do you expect they will then do? Simply disappear like magic? If they can’t take Colchester, they’ll plunder and burn every village they can reach from the river in Lexden Hundred and Winstree Hundred to the north and west- Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe- to get what they can to make the expedition worthwhile. And sitting on the east side of the river is Wivenhoe, all by itself. And you want our warriors to celebrate and drink until they become incapable? There’ll be 800 Danes coming back down that river, possibly late today but more likely tomorrow or the day after. They won’t be coming to pay a social visit. They’ll be here to pillage, burn, kill and rape.

  “You need to be calling in every member of the fyrd and every man who can hold a knife. I expect to have 200 more men from Tendring Hundred here by nightfall- they’re marching in on foot. If I don’t, we’ll have some new thegns next week! After we have beaten the Danes when they come back down river, if we beat them, then you can celebrate.”

  Alan stalked off muttering to himself and found Baldwin, who had his men well in hand and had restricted them to a pint of ale each. Alan gave permission for the men to take off their armour and rest after the long night and busy morning, and to receive a second pint of ale. As Baldwin helped Alan out of his hauberk and gambeson he gave a report on the losses for the morning’s battle. Three dead and one wounded amongst the archers; four dead spearmen and one injured; one dead swordsmen; one dead horseman and one with a severe leg wound. There were a number of minor injuries that would not prevent the men fighting again. Several of the villagers were dead or injured, but he had no details.

  It was mid-afternoon when he walked out to the village green and greeted the men lounging in the shade of the trees. All had armour and weapons close by. Rolling up a bundle of cloth as a pillow, Alan lay down to get several hours sleep. It was nearly dark when he roused, stood and sought out Baldwin, who had been dealing with the arriving warriors. Hugh had arrived with the levies and men from Ramsey, Dovercourt and Great Oakley. Sending Baldwin for a rest Alan met with the Tendring thegns and had Baldwin distribute to the thegns’ retainers and fyrdmen the 100 or so chain-mail byrnies, swords, axes and shields that had been taken that morning, although most went to his own men.

  He also sent a message rider to Thorrington and Brightlingsea, the latter to advise of the probable risk of immediate attack, and also to St Osyth to tell the inhabitants to be
ready to evacuate the village and drive their animals into the forest if the invaders appeared on the sea.

  Wivenhoe had a sandy beach with a wharf able to accommodate two ships, the village itself being built 500 yards inland on higher ground to prevent inundation on high tides or floods. There was woodland to the north and south, leaving an area about 500 yards wide clear between the village and the water.

  The peasants were put to work digging long thin trenches in the wet low-lying ground about 100 paces from the edge of the village. The spoil was removed and placed as a breast-work just before the houses, sharp stakes were placed in the trenches and the cut sods carefully replaced over a network of thin branches over the trenches.

  Men continued to trickle in from the east and south and Alan was overjoyed when four wagons arrived heavily loaded from Thorrington. Calling a group of peasants together he soon had them clearing a patch of trees and bushes at the edge of the northern section of woodland, stacking cut branches and shrubs to one side. The wagons were manoeuvred over to the cleared area and huge balks of timber and lengths of rope were unloaded, along with a giant cauldron and a number of barrels.

  The wagons then rolled away and returned a little later loaded with rocks the size of a man’s head or a little larger, which were stacked between the piles of wood. There was also a small pile of about twenty hollow baked ceramic balls, each the size of a man’s head and each with a small hole at one end. As Anne walked up to see what the excitement was about, Alan and half a dozen men were fitting pieces of wood together and knocking wooden dowels in place with wooden mallets. The first machine was nearly complete, a large square of heavy timber with two upright posts, the rear post attached to a crosspiece onto which two men were currently tightly winding rope. The shorter front post was padded, thicker and not as high as the rear post. The length of the whole contraption was about fifteen feet and it was half that wide and high. Two of the men started to assemble the second machine as Anne arrived.

  “What on earth are they?” she asked in puzzlement.

  “Onagers,” replied Alan briefly. “They throw rocks and stuff,” he grunted as he increased tension on the rope. “These spokes twist the central skein of rope, which provides a force vector that causes the central beam to whip up and throw the object. I’ve already tested these two to throw a large rock 500 paces. This time I’ve replaced the sling with a sort of spoon, because I’m a nasty bastard.”

  A workman carefully measuring amounts of different powders into a large cauldron gave a hearty laugh. “Greek Fire,” explained Alan. “Well… not really. It would perhaps be more accurate to refer to it as the ancients did and call it ‘Wildfire’. The Byzantines have been using Greek Fire in warfare for over 100 years, but the formula is a closely guarded secret. The Greeks and Romans used incendiaries based on naphtha. This is naphtha with the addition of some extra substances such as tree resin to thicken it, also nitre and sulphur. We heat it in the cauldron, then we add quicklime and pour it into the baked clay ball. Then we put the ball in the cage on the spoon-shaped container at the end of the moving beam, light it and pull the trigger. The result is barbequed Dane.” The workman gave a nasty snigger.

  Anne looked none the wiser for the brief explanation and asked, “If it’s a military secret, how do you know about it?”

  Alan looked up from carefully checking the consistency of the mixture as it was heated. “As I said, the use of naphtha to burn down gates and so on has been happening for over a thousand years. When I was studying in Paris I shared rooms with a man who was determined to try to discover the secret of Greek Fire and he did a lot of research and experiments. He intended to sell the formula to the king of France. I helped him sometimes. He added different substances to naphtha to see what the results were.”

  “And was he successful?”

  “Possibly. Indeed, I’d say probably, given that he blew up his laboratory and himself and caused a huge fire that burned down a number of buildings. At that time he was working on the problem of making the mixture self-combust. Fortunately, I was away visiting my family when he found the answer, or I’d have shared his fate. From that I learned to conduct such experiments outdoors and with very small quantities. What I have isn’t quite Greek Fire, as it can’t be pumped out of a hose and is quite unstable, but it does the job well enough for my purposes.”

  When the second onager was completed Alan tested both, adjusting the tension on the ropes and lobbed half a dozen practice rounds of rock at various targets until he was satisfied with the setup. The practice rocks were retrieved and put back in the pile ready for use.

  “What makes you so sure they’ll come to our village?” asked Anne.

  “The same reason they came this morning- because you are here. A prosperous village, with men and women to seize and carry off as slaves, after they’ve had their fun with the younger women.” Anne blushed. “They’re just up the river and they’ll come just as sure as bees are drawn to a honey-pot, whether they win or lose at Colchester.”

  It was now fully dark and Alan retired to the village green to sleep in the open with his men, declining Anne’s offer of a bed in the Hall.

  Next morning dawned clear and bright, promising a hot summer’s day. Alan had had the village Fletcher up all night making arrows, and the blacksmith and his apprentice making spearheads. Now each village peasant could fashion himself a spear by cutting a suitable sturdy sapling and attach the newly-made spearhead. With this and the seax knife that each man owned as a mark of their free status, all would now be reasonably well armed.

  Gimm, Alan’s young armourer, had arrived and was doing the rounds making small repairs and adjustments to chain mail armour and helmets, particularly those captured the day before and now being used against their former owners. Alan told the men soon after dawn that they could remove their armour. The day was hot and with the coming of light they would have sufficient warning of the approach of an enemy to have time to don their equipment and deploy.

  Most of the thegns were giving their under-trained and ill-prepared fyrd members long overdue weapons training, both in individual skills and, particularly in the case of the spearmen, how to fight as a group. Alan, Hugh and Baldwin each gave several lessons on basic techniques to those who had received a sword or battle-axe for the first time after yesterday morning’s battle.

  The day dragged on slowly. Most of the men sat in the shade and either dozed or pretended to do so. Others constantly fiddled with their equipment. The priest was kept busy hearing confessions in the small church and held Mass at mid-day on the village green. The archers set up make-shift targets and spent most of the afternoon in practice for small wagers. Small groups of warriors played dice or knucklebones. Anne kept local wenches circulating with food and water but, remembering Alan’s comments of the day before, no alcohol.

  In the late afternoon Wulfgar walked up to where Alan was lying in the shade on his back with a broad-brimmed hat over his face. “Come and have a look at this,” he said abruptly, before walking off towards the river- carefully avoiding the traps that had been dug. Alan followed and as they neared the river Wulfgar pointed to a long thick pall of smoke that was rising about three miles away to the west, on the other side of the river. “That was the village of Dayneland,” he commented sourly.

  “And we are next in the morning,” replied Alan. “It’s a late moon tonight. Have the men stand to in their full armour, in their proper positions when the moon rises. Post guards. The rest of the men can sleep, if they can, in their armour. You’ve shown Lady Anne this portend?” Wulfgar nodded. “It’ll be a big day tomorrow,” commented Alan as they walked back to the village.

  Wulfgar grunted his agreement and uttered the traditional prayer of those who lived in the shadow of the longship, “God protect us all from the fury of the Norsemen.”

  On the way back to the village Alan checked one of the traps that had been dug. Given the low-lying nature of the ground he wasn’t surprised to find it nearl
y full of water. He wasn’t concerned, as a six foot wide six foot deep trench full of water would be just as hard to get past as an empty trench with sharpened staves at the bottom, if not more so.

  Alan had slept, or at least tried to sleep, in full armour before and was not surprised to find that night that this had not become any easier in recent years. Still, it was better than having the enemy sneak up on you while your armour was still in the wagons- or in the case for the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge several miles away on the boats. Like most of the others Alan had snatched only a few moments rest by the time the sergeants came around rousing the men as the moon rose a little after two in the morning, Bread, cheese, cold meat and water were handed around. The men buckled on their equipment and placed shield, sword or spear ready to hand.

  For once Alan was glad about the early sunrise time. First light was a little after three in the morning and the sun rose into a clear sky a few minutes before four. Alan and his small band of ‘technicians’ checked the onagers and wiped moisture off the torsion ropes. Fresh dry kindling was placed under the large copper cauldron. The camouflage bushes and branches were put in place.

  “Do you expect it to be over as quick as two days ago?” asked a small voice by Alan’s shoulder.

  “You really can’t do what you are told, can you?” he replied with mock severity “I told Wulfgar to tie you to the table in your Hall.”

  “I have a very engaging personality,” replied Anne with a smile “And I threatened to cut his balls off if he didn’t let me out. As you will see I have six warriors to look after me.”

  Alan sighed. “Six against 600 or more. Still, you’ll be as safe here as anywhere, with the men I’ve positioned to protect the onagers. To answer your original question, no, it won’t be as quick as two days ago. That was a simple ambush against an unsuspecting opponent. But if the fight isn’t over within two hours, we’ll lose.”