Banners of the Northmen (16 page)

"What? We should be first in glory!" Mord pulled at the ladder in protest, huddling in the darkness of the shield wall.

"I lead to win and to live. Do as I say." Ulfrik peeked out from his shield to see Toki had mimicked his pace. Whatever his faults, Ulfrik could always depend on Toki to be smart in battle.

"That was the brunt," Mord continued. "Let's not miss the fight."

The Franks answered for Ulfrik. Arrows clattered on their shields like hail. Their pace became as men in a blizzard. They pulled their shields tight, and the arrows streamed without end. Bodkins pierced the wood. One popped through a thumb's width from Ulfrik's face. The tip lodged in the cheek plate of his helmet.

The sound of arrows hissing and screaming back and forth overhead was unearthly, like a windstorm from the cold plains of Nifleheim. His mouth had become so dry he feared his tongue would split. Screams of dying and wounded men encircled them. He knew they were at the final approach to the tower by the number of corpses they had to dance over. Under the shield wall smelled like ale and urine. Someone retched on himself, and further fouled the air.

"We're here! Run the ladder up. Hurry!"

Ulfrik forgot every instruction on using the ladder. The moment the shield wall parted, he looked skyward to a wall that must reach the clouds. Hundreds of battles had not prepared him for this.

An arrow clipped his helmet with enough force to knock it over his face. Shoving it back, he roared again, and pulled the ladder forward. "Keep the angle shallow! Move!"

Ladders were already placed and men were clambering toward the defenders atop the tower. Some had placed their ladders too steep, and the defenders waited for men to get halfway up before shoving the ladders back with long poles. He watched one shove away, balance vertically as men screamed, then collapse back into the crowd. Howls of agony combined with the thud and crunch of the bodies slamming into the ground.

Holding his shield overhead, he guided the ladder with one hand. Two of his men came forward with support beams to brace it. Before he could order them, one spun away with an arrow shaft through his eye. He collapsed atop the beam just as the ladder came to rest.

"Get up as fast as you can!" Ulfrik grabbed Mord by his mail sleeve and all but threw him on the ladder. "The more men on it, the harder for them to push it back. Go!"

He scurried to retrieve the brace. He refused to look at his man's face as he twitched in the grass. Instead, he grabbed the man's hand and forced it from gripping the arrow shaft and onto his sword hilt. At least he would go to Valhalla. As the body slumped in death, Ulfrik struggled to roll it aside, but holding his arrow-studded shield overhead made the work twice as hard. Glancing to check Mord's progress, he was not far along and the ladder already tilted to the unbraced side.

Dumping his shield, he took both hands to roll the corpse aside. The sky darkened, and he looked up to find Snorri holding a shield over him.

"You'll get yourself killed, you old fool!"

"Hurry up," was all Snorri said, and huddled closer to Ulfrik while trying to cover both of them with his shield.

Ulfrik shook his head and dragged the dead man off the beam. Despite the weight of his mail coat, he flopped aside like a child's doll. Ulfrik's arms trembled with fighting rage, and anger at his own fear. He scooped up the heavy timber beam and dragged it to the ladder. Wedging it in place with Snorri's aid, the ladder straightened. Mord continued his climb, awkwardly trying to hold his shield before the pelting arrows. Men lined behind him, moving at a steady crawl.

Retrieving his own shield, he surveyed the field. Toki was leading his ladder, and nearly traversed half the distance to the top. To his left, Hrolf strode from ladder to ladder, shouting encouragement and threats. His shield bristled with arrows, but his sword was drawn and pointing to the top. Ulfrik's gaze followed it up.

Arrows slid down the walls; missed shots from the ranks of Danish archers. Dust and debris washed down the sides, combining with the broken arrows to form a waterfall of shattered junk. Helmets plummeted, lost weapons clanged against the stone as they fell. Worst of all, men tumbled from the walls shrieking and wailing through the long fall.

His shield seemed to rise on its own, then he realized Snorri had pushed it up for him.

"Stop gawking and let's move!"

Turning to follow Snorri, he heard screaming drawing closer. Looking up, a Dane clutching a Frank plunged out of the sky. He had seen death and gore, good men hacked to bits and charred bones buried under rubble. Nothing compared to the two men slamming into the earth. They exploded into a pink mist, bones piercing through flattened bodies. The sound was horrid, like a barrel of ale shattering. Nothing was left to define the two men beyond a mush of flesh and blood and fragmented bone.

The whole world seemed to be screaming as he gagged and staggered after Snorri. His mail hauberk tugged from behind, and he felt a line of searing pain at the back of his arm. An arrow had caught in his mail, cutting him. Snarling, he joined Snorri at the foot of the ladder, behind the last men of his block.

Screams to the right and he whirled toward the sound, knowing what he would see.

Toki's ladder had been shoved away from the wall. They had set the angle too shallow, and the bracers had been hastily set. Rather than push back, the Franks shoved the ladder down. The effect was the same.

He watched in horror as twenty of his men collapsed straight down half the height of the tower. Arrows chased them to the ground, seeking the unprotected bodies. Many sank into flesh, quivering from the pile of victims.

Grabbing Snorri by the collar of his mail, Ulfrik dashed toward the wreck. Despite the crashing noise enveloping him, their moans were like thunder in his ears. Bodies moved, likely those toward the end of the ladder. Two men were already rushing to the fallen, looking into their faces.

A rock thumped into the ground a hand's breadth before him. It had nearly buried itself in the ground, such was the force. Ulfrik pulled up short, Snorri crashing into him, and looked up. Silhouettes of men hefting large objects overhead lined the tower top. They flung their loads down on the Danes.

"They're going to crush us with rocks!" Snorri yelled in his ear, his old voice cracking.

"Help me find Toki."

Dancing amid falling rocks and the rain of arrows, he reached the line. His shield weighed heavy from the scores of arrow shafts embedded in it. A rock clipped the edge and flipped the shield around. Flinging it to the side, he began searching faces. Bloodied men looked skyward, many with dull eyes full of death. Ander mumbled and blinked, but his eyes were unfocused and blood flowed from his ear. Scuttling to the front where Toki had led, he saw Thrand leaning over a man.

His shield was slung across his back, and he held and arrow in a white-knuckled grip. His face was sprayed with blood. Seeing Ulfrik, he recoiled.

"Toki is alive," Thrand said, barely audible over the noise.

His heart pounding, Ulfrik forgot his safety and rushed to Toki's side. He had lost his helmet but seemed unhurt.

"Toki, can you hear me? I'm getting us out of this mess. Snorri!"

He cupped Toki's head, and glared at Snorri to move faster. He came with Kolbyr, another survivor of the crashed ladder. Toki's grip was firm on his arm.

"We can't lie here, or arrows will slay us." To emphasize his words, a stone crashed down an arm's length distant while more arrows drizzled after it. "I think my leg is broken, but I survived. The gods love me after all."

Toki chuckled, and Ulfrik laid his head down. Snorri arrived beside him.

"Get him off the field, and take whoever else you can. I'm calling a retreat."

He did not wait, but sprinted to his other ladder, where Mord was stalled two-thirds up. The ladder was well-set and the hooks arrayed against it could not prevail. The Franks, however, had decided to shoot straight down the ladder. Mord and the men near him had formed a pitiful shield wall against the assault. One man hung dead on the ladder, his blood running like a tap. Ulfrik dashed up the rungs, easily reaching the rear man.

"We're retreating. Take whoever you can carry and go. Send word up to Mord."

The man thumped Ulfrik's helmet in acknowledgment, and pulled the hauberk of the man above him. Ulfrik scrabbled down the ladder, noting Snorri retreating with Toki limping beside him. Other survivors fled past them.

Satisfied he could save enough of his men from the madness of taking the tower with ladders, he started to run. The Danes were in full retreat and scattering everywhere. He saw Gunther One-Eye, his wolf pelt pierced with arrows, charging away with his arrow-pierced standard dragging behind. He searched for Hrolf, and found the giant man easily.

Standing at the foot of his ladder, he shouted curses at the Franks. His men filed down the ladder, slipping away into the mass of fleeing Danes. Hrolf, however, held up his sword in challenge.

A rock the size of a fist clanged off his helmet, denting it and pounding him to his knees. One look up and Ulfrik spotted a cluster of dark shapes reaching their bows over the battlements.

Hrolf lay sprawled faceup when Ulfrik reached his side. Instinctively, he threw himself over Hrolf. Two arrows struck his back, but failed to penetrate the mail. Still, the blows reverberated deep into his body. Another arrow tore his shoulder and a fourth deflected off his helmet.

"Lord Hrolf, stand up and flee. We are finished here."

Blood seeped from Hrolf's nose and Ulfrik read the confusion in his unfocused eyes. Wasting no time for the archers to take a second shot, he hauled Hrolf upright. Another rock landed in the grass where his head had been moments ago.

"You again?" Hrolf mumbled, as he staggered to his feet.

"Faster, lord. The Franks are running out of targets."

The arrows stopped falling and cheers now flowed from the tower rather than missiles. Glancing back as he aided a wobbly Hrolf from the battlefield, he saw men holding bows overhead and one man standing in their midst holding aloft a staff topped with the cross of the new god.

"We had them," Hrolf said, his voice slurred. "Just another moment was all we needed."

Ulfrik made no reply. His body burned with every motion. The Franks began to chant in victory, and Ulfrik bit his lip as he fled the defeat and carnage that lay thick at the base of the tower.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Runa entered the hall, two baskets of wool in each arm for the girls working the looms. Two other women tended chores, one of whom was Elin. Seeing Runa enter, she put down the bellows she had been using on the hearth and rushed to help. The cold still clung to Runa's robes, and her face immediately warmed as she met Elin halfway. Relieving one basket from her, she drew close and spoke in a low voice.

"He's awake now, but is still resting. He has been asking for the Valkyrie who saved him." Runa thought Elin's smile was almost chiding.

Stopping and handing the other basket to Elin, she wiped her hands on her legs. She touched the sax at her lap, barely aware it calmed her. "So he's making sense now. Let me check him. Where's Gunnar?"

"Collecting branches for the fire." Elin paused, her face growing red. "He is harmless, lady Runa?" Elin's question stopped the three other women at their chores, and their eyes gathered on her. Runa shrugged.

"No man is harmless, but he is weak." The girls at the loom stole worried glances at each other, and Runa waved her hands at them. "Do not fret. He spoke gratefully enough when we rescued him."

Patting Elin's arm, she then checked Thora and Hakon, who both enjoyed a game of catch with a ball of wool. Hakon smiled at the sight of his mother's return, and she held him briefly before deciding to address the stranger. "You want to play longer? Here, back to Thora you go."

With winter drawing nearer every day, the sun lingered in twilight. Despite the years spent here, she had never accustomed herself to the midnight sun of summer and the endless half-light of winter. A thin blue light filtered into the hall from the open smoke hole, combining with the hearth fire and oil lamps fluttering in their bowls around the hall. The fishy scent of the oil filled her nose, but would soon disappear after she accustomed to it. Rather than unpin her cloak, she gathered it at her neck and stared at the cleared section of the hall where the man she had rescued now lay by the wall.

His bright yellow hair stood out against the dark wool blankets piled on him. Since his rescue he had shivered from the cold and slept night and day, crying out in his nightmares of a ship going down at sea. The heartfelt terror in his voice elicited Runa's sympathy. She had endured a storm at sea once, and she and Gunnar had nearly been washed overboard. It was that dreadful trip to find help for Ulfrik, where Toki had nearly been killed and Njall, Thrand's brother, had drowned. She shuddered and put the thought aside.

Kneeling beside the man, she placed her cool hand on his forehead. Sweat moistened her palm and she smiled. "You are no longer cold, nor too hot. You are awake?"

The man's hazel eyes blinked open and struggled to focus, but finally fixed on her. The swelling on his lip had decreased, but they had become as black as coal. Cuts and bruises marred his skin, and lumps disfigured the strong shape of his face. Yet Runa recognized the youthful handsomeness beneath the damage. Even in his disheveled state, he had the face of man accustomed to command. Something in the lines between his brows and the clean trim of his beard marked him for a leader. Forming a weak smile, he spoke in a hoarse voice.

"My Valkyrie has come for me at last. I am thirsty."

Runa smiled. He certainly was used to command, but she wanted him to understand who ruled this hall. "Wait a little longer. Drink may not be what you need yet. The healer must see you first and decide."