Wolves in Armour nc-1 Read online

  “But why? We have a good defensive position, thanks to your efforts. Wulfgar tells me we have nearly 500 men, with you bringing the full strength of Tendring Hundred. Why can’t we beat them?”

  “I didn’t say that we can’t beat them, but I’m afraid Wulfgar has been saying what he thinks you want to hear. There’ll probably be maybe 800 Danes- every one a trained warrior. Yes, we have 500 men, including 25 armoured horsemen and 40, slightly less than that now, archers. The thegns and a few huscarles and perhaps another 100 men have some knowledge and skill with sword, battle-axe or spear, but who won’t be as competent and well-trained as the Danes. The rest are farmers who were given a spear yesterday and have had two or three hours training. Man for man it will be absolute murder, with us on the losing side. We need surprise, tactics, the traps we have dug- and my little friends here,” patting the side of one of the onagers. “Maybe we have a chance, if they work as well as I expect”.

  “You’ve never used them before?”

  “No. Nor, as far as I am aware has anybody else for hundreds of years. Hopefully what’s in the books will work as well as I expect.”

  “Err… I’m sorry, but that doesn’t fill me with confidence. These are my people,” said Anne.

  “And mine, although not my village. One of the things I believe is to learn from the past. I know what to do today because I have studied the Romans, particularly Vegetius. The Danes will come in simple and dumb, doing what they’ve done for the past 200 years. They’ll all be infantry and will charge straight up the centre, the same as we barbarians did in Vegetius’ time. I’ll give them a lesson in ancient history and we’ll win. Or if it doesn’t work, we’ll all die. Or those that don’t die will wish they had. Take your pick.”

  “I’ll join the ladies praying at the church. Perhaps intervention from Almighty God will assist us.”

  “I’ll not turn down any assistance, particularly of a divine nature. I just don’t intend to rely on it. The Romans said ‘All things being equal, the Gods are on the side of the larger army’. I hope my engines here make things unequal!”

  About an hour after dawn word came from the observers posted slightly upriver that a fleet of boats was proceeding downstream on the last of the outgoing tide. Further information was relayed as the boats came closer. A dozen longships and four trading cogs, at least one of which an observer recognised as being home-ported at Colchester, and he thought the other cogs were also.

  Reports were brought regularly by runners and then the small fleet came into view around a small promontory. Several longboats gathered in a cluster for about ten minutes, no doubt as instructions were passed. Then eight longboats turned and started to row towards the shore. The four others and the trading cogs then continued on slowly southwards.

  “Where do you think they are going?” asked Anne.

  “Probably Brightlingsea,” replied Alan with some distraction. “Edsel, the King’s Reeve, knows raiders are about. Edward of St Osyth warned him on his way here. Edsel refused to send any men here, claiming as King’s Reeve I have no jurisdiction over him. He can look after himself for the time being! We may be able to provide help later, although I doubt it.”

  Alan looked carefully at his preparations. The signs of the water-filled traps were visible only to those who knew where and what to look for. The warriors in the forests to the north and south of the clearing were carefully hidden, well back amongst the trees and bushes and either lying or crouched down. Alan could see where the bushes on the southern forest had been cleared to allow the horsemen relatively free passage when the time came for them to emerge, but of the horses and men themselves there was no sign.

  The village appeared deserted, with the 150 or so men tasked with its defence carefully hidden behind or inside the houses and barns on the western edge of the village. The only incongruities were the apparently abandoned nature of the village and several wagons tipped on their sides at the edge of the village just to the south of centre, at the point where the traps would channel the Danish attack. The range-marking sticks that Alan had inserted at measured distances could be clearly seen but showed no apparent purpose or danger.

  All the livestock, all the children and most of the women were hiding deep in the forest about a mile east of the village, although a few of the braver women had insisted on staying to support their men and to provide succour to the wounded. The small church and several barns to the east of the village had been prepared to receive the inevitable casualties.

  “Light the cauldron,” Alan instructed his men. Moments later flames were flickering about its base and one of the men began to carefully stir the mixture that began to turn to a thick viscous liquid.

  The eight longships carefully approached the landing place, each dropping an anchor behind it in deeper water before they slowly rowed up and carefully beached their ships bows-on to the shore. Men jumped over the bows of the ships and waded through the shallow water to the beach where they began to form up. There were a lot of them. As each ship emptied, the small anchor-crew remaining on board winched the ship back into deeper water by using a vindass winding pole, so each boat floated about thirty yards from the beach, free of risk of attack from men on the land.

  The Danes formed up. There were eight groups each of about 75 men. At a command they began to move towards the village, the groups spread out in the middle part of the clearing on a front perhaps 300 paces wide.

  Thegn Alric, who was in command of the troops on the English right flank, muttered to Alan, “I hope your plan works as well as the other day- there’s well over 600 of them, perhaps as many as 800.”

  “But we have parity of numbers and our people are fighting for their homes and families,” objected Anne.

  Alric snorted in apparent bitter amusement. “Equal numbers yes, but in a straight fight they would crush us in less than an hour. Most of them are full-time professional warriors. We have some part-timers with some degree of training and a bunch of farm-boys straight from the plough. Oh, they’ll fight, no doubt about that! But in a straight battle the Danes will go through us like a hot knife through butter. Let’s hope that Alan’s concept of so-called ‘combined arms’ works.”

  As the enormity and peril of the situation became clear to her Anne’s brow creased with a frown of anxiety.

  “Now, if my lady would kindly shut up, we can concentrate on what we are doing. In this plan, timing is everything,” said Alan rudely. Shooting Alan a look of dislike Anne fell silent.

  The was still no movement in the village and some of the Danes could be seen chatting amongst themselves as they strode forward. “They’re paying absolutely no attention to their flanks. They’re wide open,” commented Alan dispassionately. He turned to the men behind him. “They are 200 paces from the village. Load the onagers with rocks and fill the fire-bombs.” Two men started to carefully ladle the heated mixture into the baked balls using a funnel.

  “They’re now 150 paces away,” commented Alric. “I’ll join my men, as the fun is about to start!”

  Suddenly, at 125 paces, the front rank of Danes abruptly disappeared as the seemingly solid ground game way under them. Those behind tried to stop, but many more were forced over the edge of the pits by the pressure of the men behind them who were unaware of the problem.

  Weighed down by their armour, those who had fallen into the pits, except two or three exceptionally tall individuals, drowned in moments. At the same instant the men who had been in hiding in the village suddenly sprinted to their assigned positions along the central front.

  The archers who had been hiding behind the overturned wagons stepped clear and began to rain death down on the exposed Danes, many of whom where now milling around in confusion. Alan estimated that at least 80 Danes had perished within a minute or two, with not a blow struck. Only in the centre, free of traps, could the Danes continue to advance, and they did so seemingly oblivious to the collapse of both flanks.

  Alan had concentrated the archers an
d the best of the infantry at that point and as the English hurriedly formed up the Danes opposite let out hoarse battle cries and ran at the English line. They hit with a clash that could clearly be heard over the battlefield and began to hack and slash with sword and battle-axe. The English stood firm, shield to shield, the spears from the fyrdmen and farmers in the second rank stabbing forward at every opportunity. In several places Danes, either individually or in small groups broke through, mainly by the use of massive swings of their double-handed battle-axes smashing through shields and helmets and cleaving deep into the bodies of the Englishmen. In the course of a few minutes the 200 or so Englishmen holding the centre were being hard pressed by the 100 Danes that had so far reached the line.

  In the meantime those Danes on each side of the centre were being channelled towards the centre by the traps. Their way forward being blocked by the traps, they followed the natural course of moving towards the open area. Alan waved to Alric, who unleashed the 75 men under his command, mainly spearmen, at the enemy left flank.

  With most of the Danes facing towards the centre this unexpected attack on the unprotect flank took them by surprise, many falling to a spear in the back before they turned to face their attackers while continuing to fall back on the centre. At the same time Hugh and Baldwin sallied forth with the horsemen and a force of infantry on the other flank, again catching the Danes unprepared and disorganized. Using their lances, in two brutal charges the few horsemen smashed the right flank of the enemy, leaving 30 or more Danes dead and dying and punching the right flank towards the centre.

  The Danes were not giving up and warriors turned to form shield-walls to protect both flanks, while others continued to stream forward to engage the English line. At the moment the Danes were in two groups. About 100 or so men were engaging the English line and a second much larger group was 100 paces back but striving to get themselves into some sort of order to continue the fight.

  Alan turned and said to the men at his side. “Loose!” Two large rocks sailed through the air and thumped into the congested ranks of the Danes at the centre of the battlefield, those who had not had a chance to close with the English line. The rocks killed or injured perhaps half a dozen men. Alan estimated there were probably close to 350 of them bunched together and that they would overcome their surprise and shock within minutes and again become an effective fighting force instead of the disorganized rabble they were at this moment. This group was still 100 paces from the English line and level with the water traps. “Load fire-bombs!” instructed Alan.

  The English forces attacking the flanks of the Danes had seen the two initial projectiles land and quickly fell back towards the trees from which they had appeared. “Loose!” ordered Alan.

  Again two projectiles were launched. This time the result was dramatically different. As the English engineers were already reloading, the salvo rose through the air and then hit the ground close to middle of the group of Danes. Shattering on impact each ball splashed liquid in an oval shape over an area fifteen paces long by ten wide, the thick liquid sticking to whatever it touched. With a white flash so bright that it hurt the eyes even on this sunny morning, the oxidisers in the mixture spontaneously ignited.

  Over thirty men were instantly immolated. Others, burning like human torches, ran screaming in agony, some throwing themselves into the water traps to try to put out the fire. But water does not put out Wildfire and the phosphorus continued to burn underwater as the Danes sank to the bottom of the water-filled trenches, dragged down by the weight of their armour. Soon strange white glowing shapes lay at the bottom of the water traps, still burning. Those splashed with just a few drops of the liquid dropped their weapons and screamed as the fire burned through armour, flesh and bone. A horrible sweet stench of burning flesh competed with the acrid fumes of the burning chemicals.

  The onagers fired four times more before the remaining Danes, terrified and with their nerve totally broken, routed and ran for the beach, dropping shields and weapons as they ran. The centre of the clearing which moments before had been a mass of Danish raiders was ablaze with sheets of fire and thick clouds of black smoke, “Target right! Aim at the ships, distance say 550 paces, but DO NOT fire,” instructed Alan. “Sweet Jesus and Mary! What have I done? May God forgive me!” he said with a tremor in his voice as he surveyed the utter devastation at the point where the Danes had sought to stand. “You! Watch the cauldron of Wildfire and kill the heating-fire. If we’re not very careful what happened out there will happen here!”

  Danes who had engaged the English line were stepping back and lowering their weapons, calling for truce. They numbered about 50 men. Perhaps a further 150 had reached the beach and several of the ships were rowing in to pick them up.

  With half a dozen careful shots from the onagers Alan made it clear that the ships were neither to advance to the shore, nor were they permitted to withdraw and flee. Patches of burning naphtha floated on the water, well clear of the ships but eloquently making his point.

  The English were disarming those Danes who had surrendered at the line. Alan walked over to Odin, who was tethered to a nearby tree and showing signs of frustration at missing out on yet another battle. Mounting, Alan indicated to Alric to join him and waved to get Hugh and Baldwin’s attention, pointing to himself and then the group of Danes gathered on the beach. He met up with the cavalry 100 paces from where the Danes stood and the squadron slowly trotted towards the enemy. The rest of the English host of infantry also moved forward but kept its distance when waved away by Alan. Alan and the cavalry halted ten paces from the front rank of the Danes.

  “Who commands here?” he demanded. There was some discussion amongst the Danes to discover who of any rank remained before two men stepped forward. “I offer you surrender on terms,” said Alan. You can accept those terms or I will again call down the fire from the sky, killing each one of you most painfully and destroying your ships. What say you?”

  The elder of the two leaders shrugged “I am Sven Ericsson of Aarlberg. This is Henryk of Flensberg. State your terms, although I see little choice other than acceptance or death,” he said.

  Alan had some difficulty in understanding the Dane, although the common elements of Anglo-Saxon allowed him to gain the gist of what had been said in Danish. Anne trotted up on her white palfrey and placed herself next to Alan.

  “I can speak Danish. Tell me what you want,” she said.

  Alan pointed to the Dane. “He’s Sven Ericsson of Aalberg and seems to be the surviving leader. Firstly, they are to disarm. Weapons piled there, armour there. Any valuables on a pile there. Any man who keeps so much as a knife used for cutting toenails will be summarily put to death. After that they re-group. Please explain that to them.”

  Anne passed on the instructions and the Danes formed lines to begin to divest themselves of their weapons and then were searched as they moved away. While they were doing that Alan asked Anne to arrange food and drink both for the victors and the vanquished. This time two quarts of ale per man for the Englishmen were allowed. The Danes could make do with water and be thankful. Anne gave instructions to one of her villagers, who hurried off. Alan looked up at the sky. “It’s still only mid-morning! It feels like the end of a long day,” he commented.

  “Was Hastings like this?” asked Anne as the long line of Danes slowly shuffled forward.

  Alan snorted. “No. That was my first battle and I learned a lot that day, mainly about what not to do. Probably the two greatest generals of our time were involved and they produced a blood-bath that seemingly lasted forever. There was a lake of blood at the bottom of the hill by the end of the day. Harold and the English occupied a strong position on top of a small hill, with steep sloping ground and trees to each side protecting their flanks. There were small brooks and marshy land at the bottom of the hill. We had no room to manoeuvre, which is what our form of combat is based on. Mounted charges uphill against a shield-wall protected by spears is a good way to get your cavalry k
illed.

  “We started fighting at mid-morning and were still fighting in the dark as night fell. That was a simple battle of attrition and we managed to kill enough Englishmen to get some knights up onto the ridge and turn the flank, rolling up the shield-wall from one side. Until Harold fell when some of our knights broke through his bodyguard and cut him down, the battle could have gone either way. There were several similarities Both forces were about equal in number, one with a good defensive position but a large number of untrained troops. One with archers and cavalry, although my 25 horsemen here hardly count, and the other without.”

  By now the Danes were back in a group on the beach, perhaps 250 men remaining alive and unwounded. The tide was coming in and Alan had the prisoners moved under guard slightly closer to the village. Most had worn tunics under their armour but many were naked to the waist. They were told to sit down and bread and water was handed out.

  Alan instructed Sven, who was wearing a rust-stained tunic, to order the ships to come in and beach one by one and for the crews to disarm. Each ship contained about half a dozen men. The ships contained sacks of valuables, silver coins, silver and gold jewellery and articles, glass beads, more weapons, all apparently plundered from the English over the last few days of looting. And there were nearly 100 English captives, mainly young men and women but some children of both sexes also. They wore dazed, blank and bewildered looks; most were clearly in shock over what they had endured.

  Anne took the rescued people immediately to the village and placed them in the care of the village women who had by now returned. The two other groups of captured Danes, the group from the fighting near the village and the group of survivors from the ambush two days before, were escorted to join the other prisoners. Without counting them Alan estimated that there were over 250 men sitting on the wet sand. They were surrounded by 40 archers, each bowman with an arrow notched in his bow and just waiting for a chance to use it, and about 40 swordsmen and spearmen. Alan found one of the sailors named Bjorn spoke good English and took him with him when he went back to see Sven. Between the various groups it appeared that five of their lesser leaders or chiefs had survived.