Authors: Vincent Atherton
The arrival of the main army swings the battle in our favour, as the Picts cannot match our numbers. Seeing that we are winning the day they break off and pull away. Our men have taken a lot of casualties, but in doing so they have also inflicted heavy losses on the enemy too. As we are left holding the battle field we can send out a group of warriors to finish off the enemy wounded, and to bring back our own wounded to have their injuries dressed. There is a great mound of corpses left littering the battle field even though this is only a preliminary skirmish. We are all aware that there will be much worse to come. The main battle for the heart of Fortriu is about to take place.
We will take a great deal of confidence from the outcome of this first skirmish though and we have also gained a good number of weapons, and even some food. Viking morale is therefore restored and although our men are still tired and hungry they are eager for the battle to begin. We still take the night to rest, more confident that they will not dare to attack us tonight as we now have the entire army assembled in one tightly packed group.
I find little rest that night. As so often before a battle I have the return of my terrible dreams and fears and awake sweating. In my dreams I recall the friends hacked to pieces by the Irskr, alongside me in Dyflinn. These demons seem to pursue me across all places.
When we see the assembled armies in the morning, we are surprised by their numbers. Both forces are quite large for these times and seem equally matched, we represent the combined forces from Dyflinn and Jorvik, and the Picts have assembled from all over Fortriu to defend their heartland. We are amazed at how many spears they have assembled to confront us. They must have a larger population than we had thought, which means it will be a greater fight but also there will be greater booty if we triumph over them.
We take up our respective positions both on slopes the next morning, facing each other across a valley. Tempers rise as these masses of manhood flaunt their spears, axes, shields and blades at one another and fling their jibes across that narrow space. There is a great shouting of abuse, screeching and banging of shields. Both sides believe they can triumph against the other but still both hold back as though they were waiting for some signal to attack, which will never come.
Although I have been elevated in status, on this occasion I have been given few privileges, other than the right to hold my own banner, and I must line up among all the other warriors. It is the first time I have held my own banner above me in battle and it is a very proud moment. Naturally it is the black raven, always my favourite tribute to Woden. I am especially proud of the bright red feet and beak that have been painted on it. Ragnald has his usual red and gold banner bearing the boar's head.
Ragnald does not know how to judge the moment to strike, but knows that to go forward and concede the high ground might be a disadvantage. I am not beside him to give advice this time, and the clash when it comes is the result of a spontaneous movement. Once one warrior moved forward all of the others followed in charging the Picts. It is ferocious and very violent, many die on both sides in the first minutes.
Our shields assist us as we raise them and crash into the Picts, but our charge turns out to be an error as the Picts stay on the higher ground and have an advantage. Our impact is much reduced by running up the hill towards them and we can not break their shield wall, basic and uneven though it is.
Despite that in the clashes beside me the Pictish leader fled after several hours of the battle when we strike down those near him as we break through a gap in their shield wall. We are eventually forced back with significant casualties though. I am beside one of my childhood friends when he is cut down, a spear splitting his skull, and I was covered in a shower of his blood. Death was never far away from me and I was very much afraid during these moments. Our charge had drawn the main body of the Picts towards us and it allowed the Danir on their side of the field to press forward, gaining the high ground and they then outflank the Picts who eventually withdraw. We are all exhausted and covered in blood, so we do not pursue them. All of us have bruises and many have cuts and gashes too. The battle peters out into an undeclared truce. Each side withdraws to re-assess and to lick their wounds.
Both sides spend an uncomfortable night, in an uneasy but exhausted sleep, each wary that the other might strike during the hours of darkness and keeping a strong guard. Once more there is little for the weary men to eat, as we have little of our food stocks left. Neither side enjoyed much quality rest and were in equally poor condition on the following day. This night the trembling and shaking returns to me, the fear that has accompanied my nightmares since I survived the battle in which we left Dyflinn. I am left very weary and miserable after a terrible night.
Nevertheless tactics are abandoned in the morning and the real fighting began as both sides surged forward in a frantic attack on the other, neither side maintains a proper shield wall and so the rival masses fall on each other with great fervour using spears, axes and swords, and all morning long the fight rages until around midday. It is a terrifying and exhausting experience for all involved. We look our enemy directly in their face and try to strike down the nearest man. All kinds of moves are used: kicking and punching as much as stabbing and cutting. Any man who flags or loses concentration, even for a second, is immediately cut into pieces.
The battle lasts much longer than we had expected with little drop in intensity. As much as anything it is a contest in endurance as the physical effort has to be maintained over many hours.
At one point it seems that our left flank has collapsed as the Picts seem to surge forward but we manage to reinforce that side and the shield wall is reformed to push the Picts back. The threatened disaster is averted, or perhaps delayed.
It is early afternoon when Ragnald makes the critical battle winning move. Naturally it is not the sophisticated move of a strategist but the brute force of a warrior; he drops his sword and sets among the Picts with his axe, cutting down several in his first few thrusts and so inspires a great surge in the Viking attacks, breaking the Pict's line. Once they start to pull back our men pour forward and the Picts give way and retreat in chaos.
First a few move back but then the panic spreads and more turn to drop back, and then they run away, believing that the battle is lost. It is their own panic that sets in that beats them, creating the opportunity for a very long period of slaughter as we pursue the fleeing foreigners, cutting them down in vast numbers as they ran before us.
Although it is a glorious victory many, many of our comrades have been killed and many more injured, of those the majority will subsequently die of their wounds. We have a very limited ability to dress their wounds and care for them. I have a cut on my left arm which is deep but fortunately clean, so I ignore it. The blood that was running from another gash above my eye has stopped now. I am among the fortunate ones as that cut and those gashes will heal over the next week or two.
While our losses are large the Picts have suffered far more and most of their men folk have been largely eliminated. The survivors are almost entirely women and children and have disappeared into the surrounding mountains as soon as they could see the battle turning against them. Clearly this retreat has been carefully pre-planned and we will never find them in their secret hideaways, so we will take just a few slaves. Their towns and settlements are mostly abandoned and we can plunder them as we please. The first thing we seek is food and drink and this time we find it a plenty.
Once more the aftermath of the battle resembles a great party for those who are still standing. Of course, there are still many of our men, and Picts, lying in agony on the battlefield. Most of them will die, though not necessarily quickly and often in great agony. We can again send out a group of warriors to finish off the enemy wounded, slitting their throats and then taking care to search their bodies for plunder. The Picts have taken huge casualties and lost an entire generation of their men, perhaps two generations. It will be a very long time before they will be again a powerful force in this land, unless there are many others hiding in these mountains, and that seems unlikely. They must have brought most of their men into battle to confront us with all the force they could muster.
There are so many impenetrable valleys among these mountains that there will be a great number of people hidden there, mostly women and children. Only when those children are fully grown and perhaps have had their own children will this community start to recover from today's events. They are very spread out across the hills, mountains and the countryside of this high land as they are essentially farmers and the majority do not live in towns or even villages. It is a cold, wet, hostile landscape which offers a hard living and I do not envy them their lot, especially with so few men left among them to carry out the work. This will be a community of women and children for some time now.
We also need to bring back our own wounded, to give them food and water and to have their injuries dressed. There are very many dead left lying on the field, the piles of corpses are all around the battle site and already the hawks, crows and other carrion birds are circling and gathering, pecking at their bodies. Soon the wolves will join them, and threaten the survivors too if we stay here.
All that is left is for us to search the settlement thoroughly to ensure that we have found all the plunder that is there. There is a great deal of wealth in jewellery, gold and silver in the largest houses, which must be where their Jarls and king have lived. We also search the fields and woods around the town before finding a recently turned patch of earth. Underneath that we find a number of bags of silver that have been recently buried. Such items of great value are claimed by Ragnald and I assume they will be part of the booty of which half will go to the King of Jorvik, and other half into Ragnald's hoard.
The silver hoard that was left at our own settlement so far away had already worried me, as it attracted the attention of greedy and dangerous foreigners. Now many more of the Danes will also know that Ragnald holds a great store of treasure, and they all gossip wildly about such things. During our return journey I will certainly advise him to take it far away from our current settlement and hide it in a safe place out of the sight of prying eyes. It is a growing matter of great concern to me.
That is all for the future for now and we must take a little time to recover from our exhaustion and our wounds. Ragnald has also been wounded and carries a great gash across his face with a cut which must have got very close to blinding him. For some days it frightens us as it threatens to go bad as the infection can easily kill men, even large and strong men like Ragnald, but after a few days it dries up and he is safe. True to his nature he seems delighted with the horrible scar it leaves, and wears it with great pride, as though it is evidence of his great achievement as the bravest of the brave warriors who is always seen at the heart of the action. I am sure he is right; many of us will see it exactly that way.
Now we must retrace our steps across the hostile land with a smaller army than before. We have taken great losses and left so many of our comrades behind us to lie in the soil of Fortriu. The life time of a warrior is a short one in these very violent times and the Valkyrie will be guiding many of our good friends to their seats beside Woden right now. I am amazed to have survived again, after being at the heart of such terrible battles and start to believe that I must have some considerable skill for battles.
We are reminded of the death of so many of our comrades as we stay for two days, hoping some of the wounded will recover, but many more of them are still dying. We must make progress towards our return and this means carrying the surviving wounded with us. Some can walk, some can ride on the few horses that we have taken, but many need to be carried and the whole army is greatly delayed by their rate of progress. They will need to be left at some point but clearly not here in the Pict heartland, where they would not survive our departure very long. Although the Picts have few warriors left, even their women would be delighted by any opportunity to take vengeance, and the wounded and dying would be immediately slaughtered unmercifully.
We want to stop, after two days of slow progress, to establish a camp where they will be left but when we arrive on the second day we find that the terrain is too mountainous here and we must continue to carry them for another whole day. Then those survivors who cannot move easily are left with a few brave volunteer helpers, who will assist them in the midst of this foreign land. Often those volunteering do so because they are also wounded and weary themselves. Even as we have travelled a few more have died and the fate of the others is likely to be a lingering death. Only a very few will survive and even then they will be alone among the hostile foreigners.
Finally we reach the holy place beside the towering black rock in the wide valley, where we first joined up with the Danir army and settle down for a much needed respite. There is good cultivated land and it provides us with some fresh food and, best of all, the opportunity for a good night's sleep on low, level land free of stones. It is my first good night's sleep for several weeks and for a short while I am free of the constant feeling of exhaustion.
During the night the plunder is divided, although not without an argument or two. In each case Ragnald takes the role of king and in the case of dispute he decides to allot treasures, sometimes to the Danir and sometimes to himself. He seems to me to be taking care to err on the generous side. I imagine he does not want any further fighting between ourselves at this point. Especially since the original reason for the campaign was for him to demonstrate his ability to lead the combined army, with the future invasion of Dyflinn in mind. The two armies must part here and they will take their separate routes back home.