Danes

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 4 of 4

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Kirstie

“Though enough of these men are young and untried,” she told the king. “Don’t expect too much from some of them.”

“As long as they hold the line and push forward when the time comes.”

Kirstie understood but thought to add one thing. “If we are successful and the men go home enriched, all will be well. but if we are unsuccessful, don’t expect the Trondelag to come up with so many men again.”

“That is the way with battles and wars,” the king answered.

“Just so we understand, I cannot do the impossible.”

“You have not disappointed me so far.” the king smiled, and Kirstie turned to a map spread out on the table.

“So, what are we looking at? Where are the Danes and how many?”

“They are everywhere and more than I care to count.”

The king was moderately successful that year. The Danes were pushed off the Oslo Fjord, but they did not go far away. They would push in again and Fairhair would drive them back again. That area would not get resolved for at least three hundred years.

Somehow, between the fighting years, Kirstie managed another baby, a girl she called Heidi. She said she named her baby after the Valkyrie who started it all, or maybe the nice, peaceful girl on the mountain who live with her grandfather. They also squeezed in another summer trip to Northumberland.

Kirstie went three times to fight for the king. She brought six hundred and thirty on the second trip, and this time the Swedes joined with them against the Danes. They seriously pushed the Danes back that year. The third time, seven hundred and three followed her, only this time they fought the Swedes, or at least the Geats. It got tiresome, but as long as the men were successful enough to bring home some coins and some pillaged goods, there were some that would be willing.

Kirstie turned thirty on that third trip, and the king kept them fighting, until Kirstie got word there was trouble at home. Fortunately, Sigurd was of age. He fought with them the last time along with his friend Haakon, the king’s son. They said they learned a lot from Kirstie, and the king was pleased. On this third time, Kirstie told Sigurd she had to go but it was time for him to fly. Haakon flapped his arms like a bird and laughed, but they understood.

Kirstie and Wilam got a ride home with Captain Frode. The man got his own ship, and was teaching his son, Knud, the ways of the sea. He had long since moved to Nidaross and parted on the most friendly terms with Captain Rune Stenson, who himself moved to the town at the mouth of the Nid River. Strindlos was becoming a ghost town where only the determined few were hanging on.

Chief Kerga still oversaw the village. Many of the village elders remained, though for the most part their good land was up by the Varnes River, and they mostly counted themselves as men of Varnes. The Volva, Mother Vrya, and the Witcher Women held on, though Mother Vrya could hardly hobble down the road and appeared older than dirt. That meant Inga stayed in the town, if only to take care of old Mother Vrya. For all practical purposes, Inga had become the Volva for the community, for Nidaross, and to some extent, for the whole Fjord, not the least because of her close association to Kirstie.

Kirstie bought several more farms as people moved out. She set her childhood friend up in a farm across the road from the place of the Witcher Women. It had much better land for growing crops and keeping the cows and some sheep. Thoren and Hilda were grateful. Of course, Hilda had her own crew of children by then and needed the better land. The fact that it put Hodur just down the road from his best friend Soren was a plus. For Kirstie, she became something like a noblewoman. She was land rich and cash poor.

For better or worse, Kirstie became something of a ruler, in the loosest sense of the word, for the whole of the Trondelag. She certainly became one of the main leaders for several reasons. Men learned what a hag was during the Vanlil invasion, a terrible hairy monster that could shred a man better than a bear. Kirstie was the hag hunter, and a successful one. Some men were afraid of her. Then, she killed Captain Ulf at Lindisfarne. Lots of men looked to Ulf or followed him on raids. When she slew the man, she took over that group leadership, or at least they dared not cross her. Then, it was not exactly a secret, though men only talked about it in whispers, but Kirstie had some unaccountable power over the things of legend. The dwarfs and elves, light and dark, seemed to do what she wanted. She had an actual giant working on her farm for a time. She was a fire starter and had a deep connection to water and the sea. The sea, and even the storms bent to her will. She could call the fish to surrender themselves to her boat and to the fire in her fingertips. Such magic had not been seen in the Norse lands in ages, if ever. Needless to say, when she talked, the men listened. Of course, it was not something she especially wanted, but it was thrust upon her, as the man once said. Her husband being the son of Halfdan Ragnarsson did not hurt.

When Kirstie returned home and cleaned up the mess that was made, she feared being discovered at last. The king’s captain, Engle Bronson was involved, and though he died, he finally had the proof that Kirstie was indeed the Kairos, and no doubt passed that word on to Bieger. Bronson was a servant of the Masters as was his skipari, Bieger, and so were the king’s assassins, Lind, and Gruden, who would no doubt come after her. Kirstie did not want to sound paranoid, but those four had been searching for her, the Kairos-her, for the past twenty years. The thing is, they could never prove it or be sure. She seemed such a good little Viking. Now they knew. Her days in Strindlos, indeed in Scandinavia were numbered.

“So, we move to Northumberland,” Wilam said. The grandparents, my parents won’t be around much longer. My brothers, Ecgberht and Godric are more than capable of running the farm. They basically do that already, but I can help. I have learned being here that I am something of a farmer after all.”

“I am sorry about that,” Kirstie said, and rubbed her nose. “You wanted to be a navigator on a ship and have adventures, and I made you pick up a plow and a hoe.”

Wilam laughed. “I can’t imagine a more adventurous life than following you around. Besides, I got what I wanted.” He kissed her forehead and she smiled and pulled closer to him.

“You get to go again,” she said, without explaining. She sneezed. She pulled back and sneezed again.

“Are you all right?” Wilam asked.

Kirstie nodded. “I may be coming down with a cold,” she said.

“Maybe we should go to bed so you can rest,” he suggested.

“What? You got me all interested with you got what you wanted and then you just want to go sleep?” She sneezed again and found a cloth to blow her nose.

“Come on,” he said, and put her to bed.

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 3 of 4

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Kirstie

Kirstie had a daughter she named Katherine in honor of Wilam’s sister. Her six-year-old, Soren, was not impressed. Much of his time got spent with Wilam, Gustavs, Thomas, Lyall, Alm and the elves who helped around the farm, or he stayed with Hodur at Hilda’s place, or played with the other children who lived nearby, in particular, the son of the tenant farmers who lived next door. What did he want with a girl and a baby? He did not mind so much when he got to spend the summer in Northumbria with his uncles and grandparents, who spoiled him terribly.

Two years later, she had another son she named Bjorn in honor of Bjorn the Bear who helped her so much when she lost her family and lost her way. He taught her to use that battleaxe without which she certainly would have been killed ten times over. Bjorn was a good strong name, but again, Soren, now an eight-year-old, was not impressed. She did catch him twice hovering over Katherine and the baby like a mother hen hovering over her babies and talking to them like they were grown up and could understand him. Katherine certainly brightened up whenever Soren paid her attention. Of course, another baby meant another summer trip to Northumberland and the inevitable spoiling, so that was all right.

Two years after that, Kirstie did not get pregnant. Instead, she got a visit from the king who said, “Sigurd is still too young to be a real Jarl in the Trondelag like his father.” He sat at a table in the big house, and Kirstie sat across from him. The rest of the people present held their tongues.

Kirstie agreed. “Also, he lives so far away in Orlandet, on the very edge of fjord. He can’t really control the traffic in and out of the fjord, much as he might like. Many ships pass him by and forget that he is even there.”

“Which means what?” the king asked.

“Have him build a house at Hladir where the king’s house used to be. It is well within the Trondelag at the mouth of the Nid River. Nidaross is a growing community, a good shipbuilding and ship repair place, and a primary stop for ships going in and out to the North Sea. He still might not be able to control the traffic, but he can at least be part of it. He can get to know the captains and the communities in the area. It is easy to take a karve from there to any village or town in the fjord. He can keep tabs on what is produced and what can be taxed. Out in Orlandet he stays disconnected. He can only wave as the ships and life pass him by.”

“Humph,” King Harald harumphed, but he thought about it. “In any case, Sigurd is still too young, which is why I have come to you.”

“For what?” she was leery. She tried to be good company that whole time. She even sipped her beer, but obviously the king wanted something.

“You still owe me men and ships to fight the Danes.” He said plainly and smiled like the cat, and she was the mouse.

Not fair. She shouted in her head, but she said, “I’ve never tried to raise an army. What makes you think I am the right person for that job?”

The king sat back and eyed her closely before he told her what he knew. Whether what he knew was accurate or not did not matter. He knew it to be so.

“You have the reputation. You stood down a whole army in Northumbria all by yourself and even gained the respect of the king of that land. People don’t soon forget something like that. Plus, you have had success in war. That is more than some of my war leaders can say. I heard about the battle in Saxony, which you won, and young as you were, you were closely involved in the plans and execution of the effort to throw the Jamts from the land. Don’t deny it. You have sailed with the men on several successful journeys, and not just as crew, but as a navigator, the third in charge. You order men about and they do what you say and follow your lead. You have the contacts and the respect of men all over Norway. I would say if you put out the word you could easily gather a thousand men and the ships to go with them, just like my friend, Hakon Grjotgardsson.”

“Not a fair comparison,” she protested at last. “He was king in the Trondelag at the time, and in case you have forgotten, he raised those ships and men originally to fight against you. People come out to defend their homes, but not so much to sail off to some foreign war. I would be very lucky to get half that.”

“I accept,” the king said. “I will expect five hundred men and the ships in Vestfold by the end of March.”

“Not even…” Kirstie said. “Men are not going to go off and fight when they need to be planting. They don’t want to come home and starve all winter. I would say June first, at the earliest. You can have them for the summer as long as you let them go home to harvest their fields. The Danes have to plant too, you know.”

“Exactly. I was hoping to catch them when they are busy planting their fields and unprepared for battle.”

“Nice thought, but your men and their families need to eat. June first. Summer soldiers, assuming I can raise any men at all.”

“Now, five hundred is fair,” King Harald said and bargained like he might haggle in the marketplace. They eventually agreed to May first, the earliest date Kirstie hoped for, and when the king left, she kicked herself for agreeing to anything. Well, hopefully she could count on Rune, Jarl, and Harrold, and maybe a hundred and fifty men that lived between Strindlos and Nidaross.

“Only three hundred and fifty more,” she told Wilam one night in bed. She wondered if his name Halfdansson would draw any men to take a chance. “God, what have I done? Who is going to take care of my babies?” Wilam smiled and answered her.

“Between Inga and Yrsa, the babies are being spoiled as surely as Soren in Northumberland. You know you need not worry about that.”

“So, how do I get out of this predicament?” she asked.

“Well,” he said and drew out the word. “We can always work on getting you pregnant again.”

She hit him, but softly, and turned over on her side to sleep.

In the end, Kirstie raised nearly nine hundred men. Plenty were eager for Danish loot. The Danes were all said to be rich. They left the fjord with fifteen longships and fifteen smaller Karve and sailed around the entire coast of Norway to Vestfold, They lost two Karve and one longship around Jadarr in south Rogaland when a storm came up, but the rest made it well enough, arriving in Vestfold on April thirtieth, just in time. Kirstie counted eight hundred and fifty-two men in twenty-seven ships.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie finds the men to fight for the king, but there is trouble at home and in fixing it, the king’s men finally get proof that she is indeed the Kairos. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 15 Side Trips, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

After many tearful good-byes and promises to return, Kirstie at six months pregnant, Yrsa, and Soren had to ride in the wagon, and as expected, the wagon driver took that opportunity to hit every rock and hole he could find.

Wilam showed Kirstie the goods in the hold. “The crew is going to have a hard time finding places to sleep.” Wilam smiled at her. “The captain has the ship packed about as full as can be, and heavy metal items no less. We will do well not to sink as soon as we leave port. Pray for good weather.”

“I do, every trip,” she said.

Wilam nodded and showed her the bolts of fine linen died in every color, and some with patterns and flowers worked into the cloth. “Captain Olaf picked up this fancy cloth in Flanders last fall before he made a quick trip to gather the apples of Brittany. He stopped in Kent to unload most of the apples for grain and vegetables harvested in the fall, mostly from East Anglia. You know, here in the Northland, we don’t get the harvest they get in the south. People in Bamburgh and in all the towns here don’t have much to go around some winters.”

“Same problem we deal with back home,” Kirstie admitted. “But what about Scotland and the islands, Orkney and Shetland?”

Wilam shook his head. “Scotland is filled with remarkably good soil. They manage to get plenty most years, and all without fertilizer. As for the islands, there are not so many people there. The land is relatively good, and they produce enough to feed themselves most years.”

“I see,” Kirstie answered.

“But look here,” Wilam took her hand. “Half of these goods are for Strindlos, Nidaros. For the rest, the captain sectioned off four areas. Each area has fine farm implements and things for the home and the hearth. He figures on returning to the places along the coast where we stopped last summer. He says you have to follow up if you hope to build a good trading partner.”

“But we go home first, right?” Kirstie asked and put on hand to her belly. I don’t want my baby born aboard ship.

Wilam could only shrug. “You know, Mother said you should stay another year to let the baby be born before you sailed off on some adventure.”

“I know.” Kirstie gave Wilam a kind frown. “Your mother would keep us there until the Lord returned if we let her.” Wilam nodded.

The crossing was easy enough, with good weather and a good wind. Kirstie got seasick on the first day, and every day after for a week. Wilam worried over her. It was cute and annoying at the same time. She said one day she would make the Storyteller write a children’s book about Kirstie, the seasick Viking.

They arrived first in Dinganes, and then had to wait three days for men to be fetched from Gulaping, the place of the Althing. They were anxious to buy, including offering some silver to supplement the furs they collected. They did not have the spring and summer to collect and tan the hides and furs they expected to have since they arrived in mid-April. Captain Olaf could have unloaded his whole half of the ship in that place if the price was right. Everything not designated for Strindlos was an option, and Kirstie was not against that idea of unloading it all if it got her home sooner, but the captain made a deal instead. He let two of the set-aside sections of good go for some real money, then he said he would try to get a second ship for the coming year. He said his friend, Captain Otto, could bring a whole shipload just to Gulaping if they had the desire and funding to trade for that much. He said his friend would be especially interested in good lumber and expect him in May or June of next year, or maybe like now in mid-April if he has a full summer schedule, or maybe July if there are unexpected delays.” He shrugged.

“You sound confident,” one of the elder’s teased, and several laughed.

“I haven’t even asked him yet,” Olaf said with a chuckle of his own. “But if necessary, I’ll rent a ship and send Brant here with a crew of his own.”

The elder who seemed to speak for most of them looked around briefly before he responded. “We will let you work things out as you see fit. We have had a year, and by next June we will have had two years with your equipment. Let me say, if the quality remains as high, you should have no trouble selling all of your goods. Our local smithies cannot produce nearly as high a quality as your material.”

Captain Olaf neglected to tell them most were not produced by local smithies. On the edge of Bamburgh they had a couple of big buildings where men spent full time hours producing the highest-grade steel they could and then pounding it into shape. Kirstie called it a foundry or sometimes a factory. All Olaf knew was after making a hundred plows or so, a man got pretty good at the task.

The next stop up the line was Birdla in Firdir Province. They managed some firs and hides, but not much, so they were only able to buy about half a quarter, being a couple of plows and a few tools. Olaf suggested if there were other villages up the fjord, they might contrive some way to trade for some of their furs and hides and thus have more available to trade. He pointed to the necklace one of the men wore. “Such fine goods as amber, ivory and honey are aways good.”

The town’s people said they would see what they could work out, but please don’t forget them. They would try to always have something worth trading.

Olaf agreed. He would not forget them.

Captain Olaf had to think twice before pulling into Borgund in South Moeri. For one, they reached the month of May and Kirstie was either in her eighth month or about to enter her eighth month. At least she stopped throwing up once she understood she could prevent her sea sickness by eating. Not the best idea, but what else could she do? For two, there seemed to be a large number of ships in the port at that time, but they were already seen, so they felt committed to making the stop.

Their reception last time in Borgund had not been the best. The town chiefs wanted everything for nothing. But they were a good a sized town and they told the elders that they might be back in a year or two. As a good merchant, Olaf knew winning faithful customers depended on meeting and surpassing expectations. He would see what they might find. What they found was not what they expected.

Not only was the king’s double sized longship captained by Engel Bronson with Bieger as his Skipari at the dock, but the king was aboard the ship. Worse than that, six more of the king’s ships were anchored off the shore, and three were reported to be north in Blindheim and another three south in Hallkjelsvik. Apparently, King Harald Fairhair was not satisfied with the taxes paid by the province, or the excuses made to withhold some payments. He wanted to press them on the taxes, but not too hard because he also wanted to raise men to help fight the Danes and Geats where they were encroaching on Norwegian land, as Harald drew the map.

“Last time I came through here Hakon Grjotgardsson brought a thousand ships to my aid from the north and Moeri.” The king ranted a bit. “We turned the enemy on that day. Sadly, my friend, father of my wife, Asa died at the battle of Fjalir. I am beginning to think when he died, he took all the courage from the north with him. Where are the men who will stand up to these Danes. If we don’t stand up, they will take more and more until Norway becomes no more than a Danish province.”

Kirstie could imagine Fairhair’s displeasure as well as his demands. She guessed the locals were backed into an awkward position and feeling uncomfortable. She understood, because she felt backed into a corner herself once the king found out who was on the ship that just arrived. He insisted on meeting the maiden from Lindisfarne.

Kirstie remembered Engel Bronson and Bieger from the day they visited Strindlos, looking for Elgar the Saxon. “They came with Lind and Gruden,” she told Wilam and Brant just to make clear that she was talking about the Masters. “I have to assume Captain Bronson and Beiger are in on it, still looking for the Kairos, me, and still seeking any evidence they can find to point at me as the one they want.”

“I still don’t understand why these Masters want you,” Captain Olaf interrupted.

“To kill her,” Wilam said, bluntly. “She is the only one that stands in the way of their plans, and whatever horrors they have in mind for us all.”

Kirstie continued, “I suspect both Ulf and Ulfsson served the Masters. Ulf knew that at least Yrsa had some connection to the world of the spirits, enough to guide the crews safely to Ellingham, but I don’t recall ever showing him anything where he could make the connection to me. He may have thought it was part of the gifts of the gods, either Fryer or Njord, assuming he heard about those things. If he had evidence that it was anything more, the servants of the Masters would have tried to kill me already.”

“How could he not guess?” Brant asked.

“I am sure he guessed,” Wilam answered. “But he had no proof. Up until Lindisfarne, she appeared to be a good little Viking, willing to kill, steal, and destroy.”

“I temporarily blinded the Masters when I killed Ulf. They did not see Danna or get a clear picture of the Troll. Ulf and Njal saw a man with some giant blood, but he may have come from the monastery, for all they knew. He was dressed like a farmer. Then, we ruined their plans in the New World. Who knows what they had in mind, except they planned to use the hags to intimidate the native population. I am sure Abraxas planned to turn the natives to himself and thus receive an invitation to come back to earth in a land where he otherwise had no connection. I am equally sure the Masters had something more insidious in mind, but we were there to save Mary Katherine and the young women, not an unreasonable quest. We were fortunate in the process to kill whatever plan the Masters might have had. But it was no proof of the Kairos.”

“So, what you are saying is going all that way to the west and to what you call the New World was not just about trying to save the captive women of Ellingham,” Captain Olaf drew his conclusion.

“No,” Kirstie responded and assured the man. “That was the main part, but there was more to it as well. I didn’t say anything because you had your hands full as it was, what with plying unknown waters and making first contact with native people and all.”

“I would rather know,” Captain Olaf said, but he said it kindly.

“Okay,” Kirstie agreed.

Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 2 of 3

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Kirstie

Kirstie blinked. “Kirstie,” she said. “I’m a Christian too.” She pulled out her little wooden cross to show.

“Wilam,” he answered, and examined the cross carefully even if it was plain as can be.

“Wilam Halfdan,” the old man named the young one.

“Kristina Arnedottir.” Kirstie named herself as Wilam blinked.

“And the old man is Captain Olaf.”

“I’m not that old.”

Kirstie shook her head and looked away from Wilam as she spoke. “I killed the hag in Scandinavia, and the one in Saxony. I’m here to kill this one.”

“Oh, that would be very dangerous,” Wilam said.

Yrsa interrupted. “My Lady can be stubborn.”

Skarde interrupted the interruption. “We are as ready as we can be.”

Kirstie looked around at all the men who were looking at her. She pulled herself together as she walked to the door, Wilam on her tail. She handed Wilam her sword. She handed Captain Olaf her long knife and drew her axe and grabbed her shield off her back. The shield, a bit bigger than an ancient round Roman cavalry shield, had a dull red circle around the edge, a dull blue circle in the middle with a bright white star painted in the very center. “Try not to kill any innocent civilians unless they attack you. Self-defense is acceptable, but you will likely have to focus on the soldiers and mercenaries. Ready?” She did not give them any time to answer.

Kirstie burst out the front doors and some hundred and thirty men filed out after her. They stopped on the front steps. The square was covered, all exits blocked by at least three hundred well-armed soldiers. The men were reluctant to attack trained men holding spears and pikes with only chair and table legs. Besides, the hag stood in the midst of them and took everyone’s attention, towering over her men like a bear or a hairy giant.

“Kairos. You are too late,” the hag said.

“I don’t see the Ass here,” Kirstie responded.

“The invitation has been sent. He will be here shortly and all the continent will be his.”

“That is a long stretch from a little port on the coast of France to all the continent,” Kirstie answered.

“Perhaps, but it is inevitable. Abraxas is the one true god, and unlike my sisters, you see there is no great water handy in this place.”

“The fountain,” Kirstie said, but the fountain dribbled at best, and the hag laughed.

“So, what are you, like the three witches in Macbeth? No, more like the Sanderson sisters in Hocus Pocus. You know I killed your sisters in Norway and Saxony.”

“Lady,” Yrsa whispered loudly. “Don’t provoke her.”

The hag stepped forward into the open space between the men on the steps and the soldiers but stopped when Kirstie raised her battleaxe and shield and said, “You know my weapons were not made by men.”

The hag roared. “You are as nothing, just another stinking mortal. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It is too late.”

A great light that became almost as bright as the sun slowly entered the courtyard. as it grew in strength, all the men present had to cover their eyes. Yrsa was not bothered by looking directly into the sun. Kirstie could do that as well, and she could certainly handle this light because the light was not pure luminescence. Abraxas was not a sun god, so in the place of pure light, Abraxas’ light shone with the sense of awesome majesty and power, the kind that would cause ordinary men to fall to their knees, or their faces in abject terror and worship. Most of the men did that very thing. The Christian men maybe did not go to their knees, but they did have to close their eyes and turn away. Even Carrots and the gnomes trembled. Kirstie just lowered her axe and frowned.

Before Abraxas could fully manifest in his moment of glory, Kirstie found herself set aside and Danna, the mother goddess of the Celts and of Gaul, the very land she was standing on, came to stand in Kirstie’s shoes. “He was warned,” she said generally to whomever heard. “He was told to set foot on the continent would be his death.”

Abraxas caught a glimpse of who was waiting for him, and he shrieked, sounding remarkably like Leif. He vanished, no doubt going back to Northumbria. Thus it was, in Ancient Egypt when Osiris banished Set from upper Egypt, Set tried to get the people of Abydos and Thebes to build him temples and invite him to return to the land. He thought a human invitation might outweigh the god’s decision. That debate among the gods never got settled. Clearly, Abraxas did not want to test it. He knew Danna owned that place and would have power over him in any case. It just was not safe.

“What? How? What happened to the girl? Who are you?” The hag sounded remarkably like Carrots, and like an astonished little old lady, even if she appeared like a monster.

“Your end,” Danna said. Danna’s primary element was fire, the fires of the earth, and the molten metal that her dark elves and some of her dwarfs loved so dearly. She simply waved her hand and the hag caught fire. “Away,” she said, and the hag flew instantly to the sea where she screamed and melted to wash out on the tide. “End of story,” Danna said, and remained aware that the people and soldiers would come quickly from the enchantment. She showed just a bit of her own divinity to keep the soldiers and pagan men inclined to want revenge on their knees.

“Captain,” she called to the mercenary captain. He appeared before her, still shaking his head from the enchantment. “You and your men are supposed to be in a battle that is ten miles in that direction.” She pointed and he looked. “Prepare yourselves,” she said as her only warning, and waved her hand. All the soldiers disappeared and reappeared ten miles away in the midst of the battle.

“Harbor Master and Loudmouth,” Danna called, and the two men appeared before her, each holding out a piece of amber. The harbor master immediately turned on the Loudmouth.

“You said they only hid the one piece of amber.”

Loudmouth looked sheepishly at his employer and finally did not know what to say. Danna spoke for him. “No more stealing in the name of confiscation or anything else. If you find some hidden goods not listed on the inventory, you must add them to the list and deal honestly with the merchants or I will send you somewhere you don’t want to go.” She let them glimpse a little hellfire.

“Please. Mercy.” Both men fell to their knees and cried out.

“Here is my decision. These men came here in good faith, and you have all of their goods they hoped to sell. Since you have already seen fit to resell some of their things, there is no point in returning their items. Therefore, you will pay for the items at the preferred price. Both of you will become beggars until you can sell some more. and, furthermore, since together you do not have enough gold and silver to fully cover the costs, the money will beggar the guilds as well. Half of the amber and ivory will be returned to Captain Hagenson because even all the guild coins are not enough. The rest of these men will return to their ships where they will find the silver and gold waiting for them. It will be up to you two and the guild masters to decide how to sell the remaining goods and recoup your money. It is so.” She waved her hand and the two men disappeared, presumably going back to where they came from.

“Captains,” Danna said, talking to all four ship captains at once. “You have been paid for your cargo. It may not be as much as you wanted, but it is more than you might have expected. Please leave this town in peace, and Wilam, Kirstie hopes that she may see you again.”

Jarl Hagenson found the courage to say something that was on all their minds. “I’ve lost a third of my crew.”

“I am sorry for your losses,” Danna said and vanished, letting Kirstie come back and face the men.

The Danish captain spoke first. “I’m glad we did not have to fight them with pieces of furniture.” The captain from Wessex said nothing. They simply left. Captain Olaf smiled for her.

“Thank you. We were sure to all be killed if we did not convert.”

“You’re welcome,” Kirstie said, but honestly, she was still processing what all just happened.

“My Skipari here is Brant Svenson. Wilam is my navigator, though he is just twenty-two and still learning the ropes.”

Kirstie suddenly looked at the young man and smiled. “I’m a navigator as was my father.”

Wilam returned her smile. “I hope to see you again as well.”

What Danna said caught up to Kirstie’s brain. “How could I do that to myself?” She looked up at the clouds or the heavens. “That was mean.” She looked at Wilam. “Sometimes I don’t like myself very much.”

“So, I take it what the lady said was correct.”

Kirstie growled at him. “Yes. Maybe. Come on Yrsa, back to the ship.” She raised her voice. “Thank you, Carrots and all of your friends.” She marched off without looking at Wilam. “Come on Old Man Skarde, you are falling behind.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

Kirstie, Yrsa, and Skarde came to the village center, stopped, and quickly scooted behind the edge of a building. Skarde tried to keep the women behind him which annoyed Yrsa, but Kirstie thought that was cute. Mercenary soldiers escorted Jarl, who had a wound in his shoulder, Leif, and two of the men that went with them to the guild hall. One of those men appeared to be bleeding from his leg, but he kept up well enough.

“We need to find out where they are being taken,” Kirstie whispered. Yrsa and Skarde looked at her like they knew that, and she did not need to state the obvious.

Kirstie thought for a moment while she looked at the vegetable garden behind the house on the square. “Carrots,” she said.

Skarde glanced at the garden. “More than likely,” he said.

“Carrots,” she said, and added, “I need to see you.”

A garden gnome slowly manifested, and he looked and sounded disturbed. “Who? What? How did this happen?”

“I need your help,” Kirstie said, but the gnome was having none of it.

“I don’t do favors for dusty doodles.” He showed his most disturbed face before he caught a glimpse of Yrsa. He whipped off his hat and changed his temperament in a blink. “Greetings skinny princess.” He bowed.

“Princess?” Skarde said and pointed at Yrsa who shrugged before the gnome interrupted.

“I know a princess when I see one, you exceptionally dirty bit of old dust.” the gnome grumped before he smiled for Yrsa. “Did you call for me? Being visible and all, I can’t hardly get my work done.” He spoke to Yrsa like a father to a simple child.

“Lady?” Yrsa turned to Kirstie.

“Carrots,” Kirstie said. “I called you.”

“You?” the gnome’s face slowly changed as he realized who he was talking to. He wrinkled his hat, offered his best bow, and stuttered. “How-ho-how can I help-he-help you?”

Kirstie smiled for the little one. “I need to know where the human prisoners from the ships are being kept. You can go invisible and insubstantial if you like so you stay safe. I don’t want to worry about you.”

The gnome got a big grin thinking that his goddess would worry about him. “But that is easy,” he said. “They got big cages in the town hall. I know, because we have some night spooks living underneath that complain they can’t get any day rest with so many noisy, smelly men over their heads.”

“Town hall?” Kirstie asked and pointed at the building on the other side of the central fountain.

“That’s the place. They got a side door if you want to get in unseen.”

Kirstie patted the gnome on the head. “I’m not sure letting the neighbor’s rabbits out to eat the lady’s vegetable garden is nice, but you know your work and I won’t interfere. Maybe, though, your wife will fix something special tonight for the evening meal.” She blew the gnome a kiss and let him go invisible and insubstantial again.

“That was interesting,” Skarde said.

“The world is full of life,” Kirstie said. “There are little ones everywhere. It gives me a headache to think how many there are. So, Yrsa…”

“This way,” Yrsa smiled and led them back down the street and around the corner toward the town hall side door. She did get out her bow, just in case.

They passed a few people on the way. The town was hardly deserted, but they were ignored so they did not think much about it. When they arrived at that side door, they found Carrots and four other gnomes waiting for them.

“We thought we might help a bit more,” Carrots said.

“I can’t imagine,” Skarde said, looking down on the little crew, the tallest being just shy of three feet tall.

One of the gnomes touched the door, and they heard the locks click open. Two of the gnomes went insubstantial and walked right through the closed door. A moment later, one stuck his head back out through the wall and said all looks safe. It was just the gnome’s head sticking through a solid wall. It felt a bit disconcerting to see.

The other gnome opened the squeaky door a crack, banged once on the hinges, and opened the door wider without the squeak. “Like they won’t hear the bang,” Kirstie whispered her mumble.

Carrots and his two gnomes butted in front, knives drawn, though one knife looked like a trowel. “Shhh!” Carrots insisted. “Quiet,” he said a bit loud. They immediately saw the cages even as they heard some deep growls. “Hund. Placate the dogs.” Carrots said, and Hund with another gnome went to do that very thing. Carrots and his two gnomes, with Yrsa, looked everywhere for a human guard who would not be satisfied as easily as a dog. Skarde and Kirstie had their eyes on the cages. There were four of them, big ones holding about thirty men each, and the men in those cages said nothing, but stared at their unlikely rescuers.

Kirstie called once again to her armor and became clothed in all sorts of weapons. Several men in three cages let out sounds of surprise and astonishment, but Leif whispered. “Kirstie. Over here.”

Kirstie quickly counted thirty men. She figured she lost a quarter of her crew in whatever struggle they had with the locals before they surrendered. Carrots touched the lock and it fell away. She glanced at Jarl, but he just gave her mean looks, so she moved on.

“Get what weapons you can find, or whatever can be used as a weapon. We may have to fight our way out of here.” She looked again at Jarl, but he just returned her growl. She moved on. “Christians?” She asked the next group, and the man nodded. “Where from?”

“Devon, er, Wessex. We brought wool and grain, and ten head of cattle…”

“I am sure,” Kirstie interrupted. “Carrots,” she said, and the gnome removed the lock.

“Danes?” She asked the next group. The man by the gate nodded.

“And anxious to return their kindness.”

Kirstie nodded but ignored the comment. She said, “Pagan, Christian, Pagan, Christian. Sort of like boy, girl, boy, girl. I’m guessing the hag wanted you to talk to each other and make you doubt your faith. It is in the doubt that a hag can slip in with word of a living god, Abraxas.”

“So she said,” the man in the next cage spoke. Kirstie nodded to the man—young man, but she was not finished with the Danes.

“You Danes need to take the left side of the square and the broad road to the docks. Leif.” She raised her voice, though Leif was not far away. “You need to take the right side.” He nodded. Kirstie pointed to the Danish lock, so Carrots unlocked it. “Christians down the middle.”

She got to the last cage and the young man smiled for her. “We are Christians, mostly Anglo-Saxons from Northumbria.” He raised his hand like a child telling the absolute truth.

The older man next to him interrupted the eye lock Kirstie had with the young man. “That is where all this started, as near as we can tell. Northumbria was settled, a good Christian nation. Then the Vikings came, no offence, and everything got confused. Lindisfarne on the holy island got burned to the ground about a hundred years ago. Then, this Abraxas showed up and things got worse. Good neighbors began to fight one another. People you thought were good believers started following Abraxas. They talked about him as the god with us, and said the Christ was a god for people far away. Then, the hags showed up. They were terrible monsters of the worst kind, but they seemed to have sway over the people. Three, like sisters he sent to other shores. One to Scandinavia. One to Saxony. And one to Francia, though I did not expect her to be here in this small, unimportant port. We never should have come here. Are you listening?”

Medieval 5: Elgar 10 Guthrum and Alfred, part 1 of 2

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As expected, Guthrum moved men into Chisbury, Wallingford, and Oxford, so along with his contingent in Bath he effectively controlled the northern half of Wiltshire and the western half of Berkshire. From there, he could raid Somerset, southern Wiltshire, northern Hampshire, once reaching all the way to Winchester, eastern Berkshire, and as far as Farnham in Surrey. While his ships continued to raid the coast, he expected Wessex to fall apart. All he did was make people mad.

His raiding parties were continually ambushed and came straggling back with nothing or did not come back at all. By April, it became hard to find men willing to go out from the protection of the towns. Guthrum’s men were frustrated, and not the least with Guthrum himself. The man did not seem to care what his army did. He locked himself away for days at a time and took his books with him because, unlike most of his army, he could read, being of the kingly line and having been educated in the court of the Danish king. He did not even seem surprised when he heard about the disaster in Devon and the death of Ubba. He simply returned to his room, slammed the door, and did not eat any supper.

When Guthrum first arrived in East Anglia with the Great Summer Army, late in the year of 871, he set himself to find out all he could about the people he faced, the Angles and Saxons as well as the Celtic people on the land. He read about the victories and defeats, especially the Danish failures in Northumbria and Wessex, and he gathered and talked to men who had been there. He knew Wessex would be hard to take and hold. He understood it took time to gather the army of Wessex and planned to move straight to the shore, at the root of the country where he could be supplied from the sea. He would work his way inland from there.

At the same time, and maybe it was inevitable, he wanted to understand who these people were. To that end, he got and read what sections of the Bible he could find. He spent days and weeks talking with the priests in East Anglia to get a firm Idea of what this faith was all about. He was a confirmed son of Thor, but this Christ began to eat at him.

When he argued with Halfdan Ragnarson and Halfdan took half of the army north to Northumbria, Guthrum warned him not to interfere with the work of the bishop in York and above all, leave Lindisfarne alone, not that he expected the man to listen. To be fair, Guthrum was not sure why he said that.

Guthrum burned his way to Wareham and got settled in the fortress there before Alfred could arrive with his army. Guthrum had taken hostages all across Wessex, but Alfred’s people had captured some of Guthrum’s men including a couple of ship’s captains from failed raids along the coast. It seemed reasonable to sit down and talk, at least about the exchange of hostages.

Guthrum learned that Alfred was building ships. They were presently in the east around Southampton, Portchester, and the Isle of Wight. Guthrum also noticed that unlike Athelred, Alfred was willing to listen to the men who knew about such things. The siege was well laid. Guthrum had no chance of breaking out of Wareham, much less raiding up into Hampshire or Wiltshire. And if the English were building ships, he knew his time in Wareham would be limited.

Alfred drew up a treaty to exchange hostages and where the Danes promised to leave Wessex, and Guthrum signed it. Guthrum talked to his English hostages, one of whom was a deacon that kept talking to him about the way of Christ, the importance of keeping one’s word and how it was the way of the strong to defend the weak and protect the innocents. It is fair to say Guthrum lashed out in anger when he killed the hostages and ran away to Exeter. For the first time, he fully understood what he did was wrong and worthy of hellfire.

Guthrum stayed in Exeter because of his indecision. Alfred followed and again laid siege to the town to force out the Danes, but Guthrum waited. He had relief ships on the way, a whole fleet of a hundred ships, and all the fighting men to go with them. When Alfred’s pitiful few ships arrived and blocked the Exe River, Guthrum scoffed. But when he learned that a storm in the Channel wrecked his relief fleet and scattered them all along the north coast of Francia, he yelled at his men and threw a chair across the room, breaking the chair.

“They could at least have had the decency to wreck on the shore of Wessex.

Once again Guthrum felt he had no choice but to sit down with Alfred and hammer out a peace treaty. This time, Alfred did not let him leave by sea. He forced Guthrum to march his men up the road nearly a hundred miles to Bath. There, the road would follow the border of Wiltshire and the Mercian client kingdom of Hwicce. Guthrum would be welcomed at any time to cross back into Mercia and leave Wessex alone.

Guthrum settled in Hwicce, including placing a contingent in Pucklechurch that could move on Bath when the time was right. Unfortunately for Guthrum, Hwicce was the most thoroughly Christian nation on the whole island with the believers making up almost one hundred percent of the population. For nearly a year, he could not go anywhere or talk to anyone without the word of God in Christ impacting his ears. He tried to focus on his mission, the conquest of Wessex, but he found it hard.

When Alfred came to Chippenham where he could keep his eye on the Danes in Hwicce, Guthrum thought of it as a gift. Turning the ealdorman of Wiltshire, Wulfhere, was not a hard thing. Dealing with Alfred’s spies took more finesse but it did not take long. He wanted to move on Chippenham over Christmas, but something told him to leave the Christian celebration alone. He broke another chair but waited.

When he finally moved on Chippenham, he was amazed Alfred escaped his hands. He quickly had men in Braydon and Malmesbury on the north end of the Avon River. His men met little resistance in Bath on the other end of the river. He decided for all his planning, Alfred must have been warned and escaped the city, but he had nowhere to go. He would soon be caught.

Guthrum sat in his room and stewed. He actually prayed but it took a long time for him to realize that was what he was doing. The Ubba disaster honestly did not surprise him. The lack of success of his raiding parties out of Wallingford, Chisbury, and Bath also did not surprise him. He figured out almost as fast as Alfred that they would have to meet on the battlefield and settle things once and for all. He fully expected that either he or Alfred would be killed, and that would end it.

Medieval 5: Elgar 9 Odda and Ubba, part 2 of 2

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With the dawn, Ubba’s  commanders urged him to overrun the town, but at the same time, Ubba’s spies returned and reported. “They did not lay in any supplies and food. They don’t have any fresh water in the fort.”

Ubba turned to his commanders and smiled. “Why waste our men and blood? We have the gates blocked. We can wait a week and starve them out. Meanwhile, we can send out scouts to survey the area, west, south, and east. Let us see which way we can most easily move to enrich ourselves.”

“We had a good thing in Dyfed.” A man named Carlson complained. “Why did we come here?”

“Because.” Ubba retorted. “Guthrum has some five thousand men in his army. I am told Wessex can just about match that number. But an army cannot be in two places at once and right now they are focused on Guthrum. We can pick Devon clean and maybe Somerset, at least the western half of it and leave before Wessex can send any serious opposition. Then again, if Guthrum succeeds, we are safe here in the west end of Wessex to do as we please.”

“We have much to gain and little to lose if we play it smart.” One commander understood.

“Devon has not been in West Saxon hands for very long. They probably can’t raise much of an army. If we are patient, the men in this place will surrender when they get hungry enough and then Devon will be ours for the taking.” Ubba set about securing the siege on Countisbury and the fort while he selected the men to send out to scout and get a good grasp on the lay of the land. Those plans got interrupted when they saw men coming from the east.

Ubba’s men hurried to fortify that side of his camp. When he managed a count, he decided they only had three or four hundred men. “Probably the coastal watch from west Somerset,” Ubba said. “I don’t know how they knew we were here to come running, but it is a gift for us. We still have twice their number if you count them and the men in the fort together, and they are divided. It should not be hard to kill off one and then the other, and the coast of both Devon and Somerset will be ours for the taking.”

It sounded good in theory, but the dwarves picked up a second hundred coming through the Brendon Hills. Somehow, they got around Gwyn and his men and headed toward the coast and the twenty-three longships there. They had in mind first to make sure the Vikings had no means of escape. They figured with the ways east and west blocked by men, the Vikings only had the south as an escape route. They and their axes would happily chase the Vikings all the way to Dartmoor if necessary.

The Dwarfs with some judicious arrows from Pinoak’s people made short work of the hundred Danes Ubba left to guard the ships. Then they turned their axes on the ships themselves, though they mostly cut the anchors and shoved the ships out into the water. The water sprites in that area dragged the ships into the deep water where Ubba’s men could not get at them, and the dwarves were able to turn and face the Vikings in case Ubba sent his men to save the ships.

Ubba quickly turned his eyes toward the south, but he found no escape in that direction as the main force from Devon, about nine hundred men formed a wall and moved slowly forward. Ubba yelled. “Form up. Form the line. Make the wall. We can win this.”

“I hope,” Carlson mumbled.

Gwyn and Osfirth linked up and between them, they matched the Danes in numbers. it was a bit over twelve hundred Saxons and Celts versus a bit under twelve hundred Danes, and the Danes did not have time to set their order and keep any in reserve.

Copperhand yelled at the Vikings but he kept his dwarfs back from the men. Pinoak got the word that the Dwarves had come out of their place and what they were doing, and he told Elgar. Elgar yelled, but then he settled down and gave himself a massive headache, projecting his thoughts all that distance to Copperhand and whatever other dwarves might be listening.

You had your fun. You can stay back and prevent any Vikings that may try to escape down the shore or maybe try and swim to the ships, but let the men fight their own battle. Most of your people can’t tell the difference between Saxons and Danes, and if you start killing my Saxons I will be very angry.

Copperhand yelled back, but he kept two long ships intact as enticements to Ubba’s men, and in the course of the battle, there were some that made the attempt, so Copperhand and his got to chop up some Danes. They were not entirely disappointed.

Gwyn and Osfirth had mostly farmers and fishermen in their ranks. That just meant they had strong arms, backs, and legs. They could push a spear of swing a sword as well as any man, and hold their shields up all day long, but the Danes had mostly veterans of many battles. They had all the battle experience on their side and had learned some lessons the Saxons hardly imagined. Though the sides were about even in numbers, there seemed little doubt that the Danes would win the day, that is, until Odda moved.

Odda picked up another hundred men in Countisbury, plus he had a hundred or so men in green that he knew were Elgar’s people. They were in fact Pinoak’s fairies and a contingent of local fee, elves, gnomes, and such that manifested to help out. Odda knew if the Danes won the battle, he would be stuck with no food or water. He did not imagine he had any choice. He and his men charged out of the fort at the back of the Danes and hit them in the rear with five hundred new swords and arrows, The Danish line shattered.

Three men in their fifties ran with Odda and knocked him down. They knocked him down three times before the old man did not have the strength to get up again. He laid there in the grass and threatened the men. Those men understood, but they hovered around the seventy-year-old to protect him from the battle. In the end, Odda sat up and asked.

“How did we do?”

“Complete victory,” one of the men said. “Our losses were light. They lost their whole army. We have about four hundred prisoners.”

“Ubba?” Odda asked.

“Found. Dead,” the man said. Odda nodded, and two of the men helped him back to his feet.

************************

MONDAY

The story of Alfred and Guthrum comes to a different conclusion. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: Elgar 9 Odda and Ubba, part 1 of 2

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When Alfred reached the fortress of Athelney, Elgar limped out to greet him. “No way the Danes will find you here,” Elgar said. “The island is mist covered on a regular basis, especially in the colder months, and you have to know where to put your feet to not be swallowed up by the quick mud or sunk in a pool of brackish water.”

He looked to see that his wife Alfpryd and his youngest daughter Alfflaed welcomed Alfred’s wife and children with open arms. Poor Elgar was fifty-eight, about as old as he sometimes lived in the old days. His legs were giving him trouble, but he was as ready as ever to fight, at least as much as he was able. He introduced the sons of his brother Eanwulf, the elder of which was technically the ealdorman of Somerset. Alfred knew them. Elgar also introduced his own son, still technically a teenager, though he seemed full grown enough. Then he showed off the fortress and sat Alfred down for some food and talk.

“Rest later,” Elgar said. “I don’t know what you may be thinking but your people are loyal and ready to fight when you give the word. I have talked with Osweald in Dorset and old man Odda in Devon. The man has to be near seventy, but Osfirth, who is my age, is in much better shape than I am, and Gwyn, who is on the Somerset coast is only a couple of years older than Osfirth and ready to fight. Osric is holding on in Hampshire, and Ethelwulf has Berkshire well in hand. Your thegans are firmly with you, not liking the idea of Danish overlords.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Spies. My spies who are loyal. Wulfhere is an outlier. He does not even speak for most of Wiltshire. I’m sorry I lost Tata, but his brother Ian of Eddington is ready to call up his men when you are ready.”

“Ian?” one man asked.

“My sister says it is the Old Anglish version of John from the Bible.”

“How about now,” Alfred said and raised his voice a little. “I am ready now.”

Elgar let the silence that followed the outburst play out before he shook his head. “No. You are not anywhere near ready, and I did not bring you here to this safe haven just for an overnight. We need several months at the least to plan our moves. We need the armies from the frontier shires of Somerset, Dorset, and Devon to meet up and move together. The men from Hampshire and any they can get from Sussex need to join together. Berkshire and I don’t expect much from Kent. They are having a hard enough time just holding their own, but certainly the men from Surrey need to Join Berkshire. That is three armies, and they need to move on the objective at the same time and arrive together.”

“Chippenham, and before Guthrum and Wulfhere move in the spring,” Alfred said.

“Not realistic,” Elgar said. “But we should be able to face the Great Heathen Army sometime in the spring, and in Wiltshire. In the meantime, let me show you what we can do to disrupt whatever plans they may be making. In the future, it is called guerilla warfare.

~~~*~~~

Elgar neglected to tell Alfred that he had gotten word of the backend assault on his people. Ubba, son of Ragnar Lodbrok was preparing to leave Dyfed in Wales and come ashore somewhere between the Parrett River and Pilton in Devon. He had arranged with Guthrum to pillage Devon down to Exeter, then follow the main road through southeastern Devon to the back end of Somerset at the Parrett River. From there, he could pillage Somerset or Dorset as he pleased. Of course, Ubba would decide for himself what he might do, and that might involve ravaging the coast to the Parrett River and then raiding up the river. He might ignore Devon altogether, or maybe give it back to the Cornish.

Eanwulf’s old friend Odda, near seventy years old, built the coastal watch from scratch back in the day. He got word that Ubba was coming and wanted to catch him on the shore. He personally took charge, and made the younger man, Osfirth set about gathering the fighting men of Devon so they could move as soon as they got word from Alfred. Of course, Osfirth, the younger man was near sixty himself.

Starting in Pilton, Odda followed the Danish sails down the coast toward Countisbury on the Somerset border. He had three hundred men gathered by the time he reached Countisbury and he imagined that might be twice what the Danes had. He had gotten used to raids of two hundred or maybe three hundred Danes and thought this would be the same. With another hundred raised in Countisbury, he would have half again the numbers of the Danes he expected. Then again, if the Danes landed in Somerset, he could bring his three hundred down the coast to Carhampton, as the case may be.

Osfirth and Gwyn had a better idea what they might be facing, or maybe they thought it through. Osfirth, as soon as he gathered the army of Devon, about eight hundred men, he moved north, stopping in Crediton and again at the western edge of Exmoor. He arrived one day after Ubba landed twenty-three ships and twelve hundred men. Odda, not having nearly the men to meet such a force, retreated to the town and the fort of Cynwit.

At the same time as the Danes turned their ships to the shore, Gwyn set out from Carhampton where he had gathered his three hundred of the Somerset coastal watch. Since he was getting his messages from a fairy, one of the ones assigned by Pinoak to watch the shore, it did not surprise him when he got told that Copperhand and a hundred dwarfs from the Polden Hills were following.

“I have no power to stop them following,” Gwyn told his commanders over supper. “I just hope they don’t get hurt. Elgar would not be happy.”

“I hope we don’t get hurt,” one of the commanders said, and the others laughed nervously.

Medieval 5: Elgar 8 The Struggle, part 2 of 3

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Elgar had a bad feeling when he heard the Danes returned to Eastern Mercia to a place called Torksey where they wintered over 872-873. They built up their forces, drawing heavily on men from Northumbria and York as well as the Great Summer Army that landed in East Anglia in 871. By the time they reached Repton on the border of Danish East Mercia and Anglo-Saxon West Mercia, they were again the Great Heathen Army and ready to overrun the last of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms on the Island.

In 874, they invaded West Mercia. They drove out the king and installed a puppet king that would do what he was told. Then they looked at what remained unconquered. The two Danish leaders argued. Guthrum of East Anglia was relatively new to the land. He saw what happened at Reading and said they did it all wrong.

“I was the one who did it,” Halfdan argued. “I’m telling you my grandfather Lodbrok and my father Ragnar both said don’t go to Wessex because you will lose. I warned the king, but he did not listen. Bagsecg got himself killed at Ashdown, the first serious engagement with the West Saxons, a battle they won.”

“But you won most of the subsequent engagements,” Guthrum pointed out.

“But hardly worth the winning,” Halfdan yelled. “They blocked us from going east to link up with the main part of your Summer Army. They blocked us from moving south into the heart of Wessex. They wore us out. We were lucky Athelred died and Alfred was willing to pay us off to go away. We could not have done much else.”

“You built your stronghold on the Mercian-Wessex border,” Guthrum said. “But I have noticed Wessex is a big place. It takes time for them to gather their forces. I propose building a stronghold deep within the kingdom, somewhere on the southern border where we can have access to ships and supplies.”

“Good luck with that,” Halfdan said, and he took half of the army back north to attack that half of Northumbria that remained in Anglo-Saxon hands. He thought he might test the Celts of Strathclyde, and maybe even the Picts.

In 874, Guthrum wintered in Cambridge in Mercia but near the East Anglia and Essex borders where he could build his forces, better plan his strategy, and arrange for those ships and supplies. The next year, he marched rapidly down the roads the Saxons so kindly provided and overran Wareham on the coast of Dorset.

Alfred and his army could not dislodge them, or it would take a long time since they had access to the sea and Alfred did not have a navy. He called up what ships he could but did not deploy them around Wareham. They were not ready. So Alfred elected to talk to Guthrum and the other leaders of the Viking army. They drew up an agreement concerning the exchange of hostages and safe passage for the Danes to leave Wessex and not come back. Money changed hands, but even as Alfred pulled back his forces, the Danes killed the hostages and snuck out of town in the night.

Guthrum and his army landed in Exeter and continued to raid along the whole Channel coast of Wessex. That was not what they agreed. By then, Alfred’s little navy was able to blockade the Viking ships in the Exeter estuary. Guthrum did not worry. He expected a relief fleet any day, but that fleet got wrecked and scattered by a storm in the Channel. Guthrum was forced to concede.

In 877, Guthrum and his army moved to Western Mercia and he rethought his strategy. He decided on a to pincer approach. If Halfdan, son of Ragnar would not do it, maybe Ubba, son of Ragnar could be enticed to come out of Wales.

~~~*~~~

Despite the fact that most of the previous invasion of Wessex took place in January, including the battles of Reading, Ashdown, and Basing, generally speaking both Vikings and Saxons did not bring their armies out in the cold and snow. Armies normally wintered in towns. They did not go sloshing around outdoors.

Alfred felt fairly safe celebrating Christmas and the new year in Chippenham, up in Wiltshire near the Mercian border. Wulfhere, the ealdorman of Wiltshire went overboard on the feast days since he was entertaining the king. That was nice, but mostly Alfred wanted to keep one eye on Guthrum and his army to see when the man moved. He really did not expect Guthrum to move until spring, but he wanted to be sure.

 “Gentlemen…and Ladies,” Wulfhere stood at the front of the hall and got everyone’s attention. “I apologize, but it seems I have some business to attend, messengers, nothing crucial but I have to absent myself from the merrymaking. Please carry on and enjoy the feast, and I will see you all tomorrow. Again, my apologies.” He smiled, signaled the musicians to continue, and left the hall.

Alfred wondered what could be so important. He watched Wulfhere go and caught sight of two older men in green headed toward his table. Elgar’s men, he remembered. The wild men who lived in the forests and swamps where most men did not go. They lived on the edge of society since Roman times, or maybe even earlier. He would find out what they wanted.

“My name is Pinewood. My companion is Deerrunner,” the old man said. Deerrunner looked around the room. “A word in private would be best.”

“You are Elgar’s people,” Alfred wanted to be sure.

Pinewood nodded. “Lord Elgar asked us to keep an eye out for you and keep one eye on the Danes. The Danes have come out from their place.”

“What?” Alfred joined Deerrunner in looking around before he spoke. “Come with me,” he said and led them to an annex room unoccupied at the present. Two of his thegans wanted to come with him, but he told them to wait.

“Tell me,” Alfred ordered.

“Best get your things and the men you can trust, if any,” Deerrunner said as he stepped to the one window in the room and looked down on the courtyard.

“Wulfhere has made a deal with Guthrum,” Pinewood said plainly. “Guthrum and his army are only hours away. They left Gloucester at nightfall and stayed on the roads. they moved twenty miles in the night, took ten hours in the morning to rest, and started again in the early afternoon. They should be here by midnight or in the dark of the morning hours.”

“What? Why am I just hearing of this? What happened to my spies?”

“Your spies have either been killed or bought.”

“What? What happened to Elgar’s nephew, Tata—Peter, from Eddington?”

“Tata lies among the slain,” Pinewood lowered his eyes and his face like a man who somehow failed at his task.

************************

MONDAY

Alfred escapes the trap but it is a long way to safety. Until next time, Happy Reading

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Medieval 5: Elgar 8 The Struggle, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Things finally heated up in 870. The Danes occupied Reading, a town on the border between Berkshire and Mercia. Both sides claimed the town, but presently, the Danes owned it. Athelred began to gather his army. The Danes waited. Given their failures in Wessex, this time they waited to see what Wessex would do first.

Ethelwulf, the ealdorman of Berkshire caught a foraging party sent out from Reading. The Danes were about half Ethelwulf’s numbers, but they fought well even if the outcome was inevitable. The battle took place near Englefield and Ethelwulf had a great victory there. King Athelred was greatly encouraged as he and his younger brother Alfred brought up the main portion of the army to join Ethelwulf and attack Reading. They hoped to drive out the Danes and remind the Danes that the West Saxons were not to be trifled with. It did not go as planned.

Athelred still did not know how to lay a town under siege, and he refused to listen to anyone like Elgar who knew how to do it properly. There were weak points and some actual holes in Athelred’s line of encirclement. The Danish commanders took advantage of that. They burst out of the gates and counterattacked. The West Saxon siege lines fell apart and Athelred’s army ran for their lives. Ethelwulf, the victor at Englefield just a few days earlier was killed. Athelred and Alfred escaped, but only with Elgar’s help.

Elgar took the two of them and much of the army by secret elf paths that the Danes would never find. They moved further in a sort time than humanly possible and soon got out of range of the Danish patrols. Athelred complained the whole time. Elgar simply replied, “Shut up,” and after a short time Alfred said the same thing.

The Danes wanted to follow up their victory at Reading. They arrived at Ashdown and divided their forces, planning to send half their army east toward Kent while the other half moved on Hampshire and the west. They were surprised when the West Saxon army arrived, mostly intact. Athelred copied the Danish formation, dividing his army between himself and Alfred. Then Athelred went to church, and some have thought he wanted to get God on his side.

“God knows the end from the beginning,” Elgar told Alfred. “He already knows who will win the battle. While it is good to submit to God and accept the outcome God decides, there is no way Athelred is going to bribe God or convince God to be on his side. I don’t think God is interested in taking sides when sinful men have a mind to kill each other. Our place is to fight just as hard as we can, to do our duty faithfully, but then to accept however the Lord decides to work things out. You cannot argue with God, and if he has decided one thing, you cannot change his mind. Faithfully do your part, do your duty with all of your might, but leave the outcome in God’s hands.”

Alfred understood. He prepared his half of the army to face the enemy and waited. He waited a long time, but Athelred never came out from his devotions, and finally Elgar’s men in green reported movement in the Danish lines. The Danes had camped along the ridge so they had the strong position. If they remained patient, the West Saxons would have had to charge uphill. But they got tired of waiting.

As the Danes came down, at least Alfred was ready. He charged, and Elgar had to use his little ones to keep the other Danish division from out flanking Alfred’s men. The division of Danes that faced Athelred’s men had to hastily fortify their camp against the uncanny marksmanship of the enemy. Meanwhile, Athelred continued to bargain with God.

Alfred won his battle. The Danes were defeated, and the other Danish division withdrew from the battlefield rather than remain to be picked off by arrows, one by one. It did not become a rout, but Alfred’s men, and the men from Athelred’s camp that joined them, continued to find pockets of the enemy that they chased well into the night. Athelred did not know where to go from there. He claimed a great victory, though he missed it, and because of that most of the Danish army survived.

The Danes first moved their army to the east rather than Hampshire and the heart of Wessex. They knew all about Weland and how he burned Winchester and that really angered the West Saxons. Besides, they hoped to pick up fresh men that currently held the northeast from London to Canterbury. Two weeks after Ashdown, Athelred and Alfred caught up with the Danes at the king’s estate of Basing. The battle was hard fought, but in the end the West Saxons had to withdraw. It was a victory for the Danes but a costly one as it turned out only the West Saxons got fresh men from Kent, Surrey, and Sussex; about two thousand.

Someone among the Danes figured out they were being followed and tracked. Elgar suspected Abraxas told them, but he decided not to find out. The Danes backed up. They went through Englefield and followed a zig-zag pattern up to Reading. They hoped to lose whoever was tracking them, but Pinoak and his fairy troop would never be fooled.

When the Danes got to Reading, they stayed for a month to lick their wounds. Athelred and the West Saxons did the same and appreciated the breather, but even Athelred understood the war was not over. At the end of February the Danes snuck out of the town under cover of darkness. Pinoak and his people were right there to watch. Athelred moved north while the Danes moved south and they met at a place called Meretun.

Meretun was another hard fought so-called victory for the Danes. They were losing for most of the day but managed to regroup at one point and pulled it out. The casualties on both sides were atrocious. Heahmund, the militant bishop of Sherborne died. He eventually got replaced by a man named Athelheah who seemed more concerned with the conduct of the church rather than the conduct of the army. Athelred was also badly wounded in the fighting. The Danes claimed the victory, but to be clear, the West Saxons pulled back when Athelred was wounded and could no longer fight.

He was carried all the way down the Dorchester Road to Wimborne where he finally gave up the fight and died of his wound. He was buried there, and that left Alfred as the last of the five sons of King Athelwulf. Athelred had married, and had two sons, but they were both infants. Alfred was young at twenty-three, but he was at least full grown and actually a bit older than Athelred had been when he took the crown.

While Alfred, Elgar, and Osweald of Dorset buried Athelred, the Danes thought to strike. Uncle Osric led the men of Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Berkshire to battle. Osric lost, but he did enough damage to the Danes to keep them from rampaging through the land. By the time Alfred arrived with men from Dorset and Somerset, he found the Danes at Wilton in Wiltshire. They managed to push well into Wessex, but they had failed to even reach Hampshire.

The battle was fierce. Once again it got counted as a Danish victory, but by then both sides were exhausted and hardly able to continue. It was an easy thing to arrange a meeting between the two sides. Alfred paid the Danes to go away, having the example of Burgred who paid off the Danes in Nottingham.

“Hopefully, this will give us enough time to rest and rebuild our forces for when they break their agreement,” Alfred explained.

Elgar, having turned fifty-one felt he was too old to argue. On the way home, he thought to stop in Athelney to check on the fortress there.