Chapter Twenty-Four: Flat Mountains
Lúnborg, 31st October 873
“So that's how things are looking.”
“As far as we know”, Ivar's spy replied. “Ælfred has assembled nearly 4.000 men in Winchester, preparing for battle ever since he declared his intention to force tribute out of Lotharingia.”
“And how are things looking from our side?” Ubbe asked Härek.
The giant was no longer a commander of his army. Instead, he now was responsible for recruitment and the organization of the troops from behind, something he was very well-suited for. Few were those questioning why a man such as him wasn't fighting from the front – most were impressed, and if they had a second thought, it was at how strong Ubbe's warriors were that they could afford to leave such a natural force as the Nordlander out of their battles.
“We can gather around 2.200 men, most of them veterans”, he answered. “Most casualties were recovered with reinforcements, young adventurers from Scandinavia, following the call of your growing glory. Some Normans have also professed their willingness to follow you into battle under Steinn's red bolt banner.”
“200”, the þegn of Cornwall confirmed.
The king's face was marked by worry instead of confidence. “2.400 against 4.000. If it was Ælla we'd face, I wouldn't worry much, but with Ælfred - it will be our hardest test of strength so far.” Or he would have to swallow his pride and enter battle only with Halfdan's assistance, Ubbe thought.
Härek shared this grim view of the situation and looked glad not to have to partake in the battle. With Tryggve stoically behind him, Hæsteinn calmly said that he'd faced worse odds and won. “Of course, we'll need to think of any way to gain an advantage. When outnumbered nearly two to one, preparation – and surprise – is a critical element.”
“Or we don't need to take the risk”, Hafrid interjected. “These four thousand are not all soldiers Wessex can levy against us.”
Ivar's spy nodded. “More men are preparing for war, Halfdan's target motivating volunteers for the enemy. Others claim that the bearers of Ælfred's declaration of war also brought considerable sums of gold to the continent, far more than they would need to merely cover their expenses.”
“And how does that reduce our risk?”
“Vagn first relayed his information to his master before returning here”, Hafrid said about Ivar's spy. “That means that he hasn't yet had the chance to speak with his more sensible sources yet, who surely have gathered the same that I will tell you now.”
“Nobody cares about your fellow spy's honour”, Hæsteinn cut in. “Just tell us the advantage. Knowledge of the enemy is a huge one.”
She sighed provocatively, and the Tormentor's look she harvested for it was probably the same he gave someone who didn't talk once he began the work which earned him his nickname. “Not all in Ælfred's court are willing to follow his plan. There is one man in particular who thinks of himself as a master of strategy because he can best his opponents at any game.”
“And this man is a weakness?”
“Earl Swæfræd Dodington of Wiltshire is also a zealous man who has a way with words. He seeks to increase his influence within the realm with a plan differing from his king's, and he is capable of convincing others to follow it. Rumour has it he should lead the reinforcements, but has no intention of heading to Winchester. Instead, he would divert them to Lindsey, hoping to incite the local populace to join him against Halfdan.”
The spy named Vagn nodded. “Dodington isn't on the best of terms with his king, so it is well possible. Ælfred hoped for 2.000 more men, last I heard.”
“And so we may hit an inferior force instead of a superior one. In any case, we have nothing to lose if our march takes us to Lindsey – in the case no enemy awaits us there, we can at least resupply in Halfdan's lands. So it is decided. We'll march to Lindsey.” Ubbe thanked his advisors for their input, then dismissed them. The war had begun, and a course was set.
Lincoln, February 874
Steinn Eyjing watched with a little concern as the two flanks separated from his and Ubbe's centre. Of course, Hæsteinn and Tryggve, the leaders of the flanks, were very capable – but also not above all suspicion. Then again – that was only his friend and liege's task talking. If he didn't listen to the voice in his head telling him to keep Hæsteinn Ubbeson safe, he heard his consciousness – that both of them wouldn't miss a fight for plenty of reasons and couldn't afford 'arriving too late'.
Ever since the rumours had proven right – Swæfræd Dodington, besieging Lincoln with around 1.600 men, less than Ivar's spy had expected – the mood was good. The men were freshly supplied and thirsting for battle, even more so now that for many it would likely not be their final battle in Midgard. Now, the enemy had abandoned the siege and awaited them, not far on the other side of the Trent, but far enough to allow the Norse to cross fairly unhindered.
Strangely enough, it appeared as if only one Saxon sat on a horse, likely the Earl. The reminder of his men were fairly well-equipped though, and he had a superior number of archers, which became visible as the first arrows started flying. Ubbe would counter their advantage with his, and set Steinn in motion, leading his Norman cavalry. The Brito-Norse had begun to show a great affinity for horses, and Ubbe was aware that in the hands of a capable, loyal man, it could prove a great asset.
Some arrows found their mark before Steinn's light riders crushed into the Wessexian centre, which quickly lost every semblance of order. Archers began running, spearmen rushed forward to jab at the riders, but hindered by men in heavier armour. The Saxons didn't seem to have any coherent battleplan, and it wasn't a mad rush at the enemy either. Overlooking the field, Steinn noticed the lack of a commander as he pulled back the cavalry for Ubbe's charge. Only some groups of a few men seemed to fight as a unit, shouted at in a language that didn't sound like Saxon.
Ubbe's shieldwall hadn't been upheld until the first blows were exchanged between the infantry, but the Norse moved in a line while the Saxons oriented themselves, many men finding themselves faced with multiple viking opponents and soon a deadly wound, their armour not helping.
In conclusion, it didn't take long for the Wessexian centre to disintegrate and break into a wild rout. Steinn shortly pursued the fleeing men, before noticing that Tryggve's advance had hit a rock. While Hæsteinn's shieldwall advanced on the lone Saxon rider as mercilessly and deadly as their commander, whoever was in charge of their other flank had found favourable, somewhat swampy ground to face their foe.
The attack had ground to a near halt. Tryggve's heavy troops fought the terrain more than the enemy and were yet to engage him, while many of the lighter warriors were struck down even before reaching the Saxons. There was a good chance he wouldn't manage to come through, or at least with far too high casualties, until the centre supported that flank.
As both Eyjing and Ubbe gave the order to do just that, their opponent began to flee. But it wasn't because of seeing coming reinforcements, but because of the fall of the lone rider and his banner. The Tormentor's men had reached Earl Swæfræd, dragged him down and overwhelmed him.
“Those weren't Saxons.”
“Indeed”, Dodington told his enemy. “Most of my men are Swiss.”
“Swiss?”
“Hardy men from the mountains on the continent, safe from your raids. Good Christians. The first of many to come here to drive you out.”
“More like well-known m-m-mercenaries”, Hæsteinn grinned. “Would have even f-f-fought for me had I h-h-hired them.”
“Alas, you are most likely right”, the captive earl admitted. “Still, our plight attracts many valiant men willing to fight for the one true faith.”
“Highly doubt that, if not even the Irish have moved to support your king, unlike before”, Ubbe studied the Saxon. “And now you have fallen into my hands.”
“If God wills to test our faith that way, then so be it. He gave me a chance to convince the king, but I failed, and in doing so also fulfilled His purpose.”
“Convince Ælfred of what?”
“I am not made to stay earl of Wiltshire forever. With a victory I would have forced the king to recognize my efforts with more titles. And I would have gained more popularity, perhaps enough to challenge a king unable to fend off the heathens as the man who actually has God's grace, as proven against the pagan scourge. Alas, it was not to be.”
The man was very talkative, but then again he had nothing to gain from keeping his mouth shut. “I've got in mind to just let the men have their fun with you. To serve as an example. Or at least my friend, the Tormentor. He knows best how to keep a man between life and death.” Ubbe watched the man squirm as he noticed Hæsteinn, seemingly wondering what part of him to cut off first.
“Then again, perhaps not.” He approached him. “What would you do with yourself were you in my stead?”
“But release myself, of course!”, Swæfræd replied with some cautious optimism. “I am a thorn in Ælfred's side and can keep him from concentrating his efforts on fending you off!”
“An intriguing offer.” Ubbe paused a moment, apparently thinking about it. “You will know my decision soon enough. Drag him away.”
Rough hands packed Dodington's shackles, and brought the prisoner away. Not that he would become anything else any time soon. The king of Lúnborg would never release a man who had openly opposed the Norse on the battlefield merely for the slight chance of being an annoyance for Ælfred, for he doubted the man was or would be anything more than that.
He couldn't fathom why Ivar had released the king of Wessex.
Lúnborg, March 874
Another test of his ability as physician. Anlaufr had no desire to relive the experience of the days after treating Ubbe, so he had left the bees out of the treatment – so far, at least. He had given his patient a light herbal remedy, then sent him outside at night to gaze at the stars. But the fever hadn't diminished.
It had come to be a severe case of the flu. Rumours already circulated that it was the Tormentor's doing – his connections to Hel were too present to ignore, and that offered such a convenient explanation. The stuttering terror had cursed Ubbe, with the intent of rising to become the king himself. A curse that had already manifested in Ubbe's cancer.
And had now also struck the heir to the crown. Nearing the end of his fifth winter, Hæsteinn Ubbeson stood in the Tormentor's way would the king die – assuming he was alive, of course. Especially his mother was convinced of the legendary raider's guilt.
“I wouldn't say it is a curse, many people face an illness such as this one”, the physician told her.
“You just told me it is a severe case – how many of these people fall so ill?”
“It happens sometimes.”
“And you tell me it is a coincidence. Last winter, Ubbe was afflicted. This winter, Hæsteinn. The next one... it is going to be me. You can't deny that regularity! We are being cursed!”
“This illness spreads more during the winter, children are more easily...”, he began, but was cut off.
“Had you intervened, my son wouldn't be in this state now!”, Jorunn had accused the seer.
“I told Ubbe about my suspicions, not that he wouldn't have heard it from elsewhere”, Anlaufr rolled his eyes, but kept his concentration focused on the boy. It didn't help him to seek someone responsible for his condition. “I doubt he would have done anything.”
“He owes you a favour, doesn't he?”
“For the bees?”
“No, for your invaluable help in returning his father from Valhalla.”
The seer sighed. “It was an honest question. I have only done what I was tasked to do.”
“Don't act dumber than you are, Anlaufr”, she scolded him.
He had been thinking about quite a few ways to use the 'absolute trust' he had asked for, but that wasn't one of them. “Even if he does owe my a favour, it doesn't go as far as to dismiss a man he specifically sent for to aid in his efforts to subdue to Saxons. Due to his reputation based on his efficiency and cruelty!”
“You are our seer! One Hel-worshipper you help me burn, but the other you let roam free!”
Noticing the growing despair in Jorunn's voice, the seer tried to sound confident where he was entirely uncertain. “There is no danger coming from Hæsteinn. I could help you with Einarr because that madman had sacrificed your father and would continue with his actions in the dark.”
“So you are saying that you need them to engage in their dark arts against us before you act?”
“No! Of course not!”
Tears began running down the queen's cheeks. “You are. And so you sacrifice my son just for your certainty.”
“I can assure you that I'm not...”
“Enough! Just treat him. The only way I can forgive you is if he lives.” Wiping the tears away, Jorunn steadied herself. “Do that, while I tell my husband in person.”
Anlaufr watched as his patient's mother left him, then did his best to heal young Hæsteinn. At the end of the day, it seemed like his condition was improving, or at least not worsening, when the physician retreated to rest himself.
“A mother's worry”, a voice told him from the shadows. “Though I have never felt it, I can understand.”
Anlaufr spoke to the darkness as he turned around. “That doesn't make it easier for me, Hafrid. Has any of your little birds spoken of the Tormentor cursing lately?”
“And how would they do it? By the time they'd return, the curse would already be in full effect.”
“It has been a few days since the first symptoms.”
“Do you really think they would report that Hæsteinn the Tormentor has been cursing Ubbe and his son?”
“If he did so, yes – or are your eyes and ears not as good as I'm led to believe?”
Hafrid met that accusation with insincere outrage. “Are you saying that I don't know everything that happens around here?”
“Who can say that he does?”
She dropped the played outrage. “In any case, I doubt my birds would witness a dark ritual in which Hæsteinn prays to Hel in order to curse the king. He's too smart for that, and if anyone then only his closest friends would participate in it.”
“Einarr abducted people to sacrifice them. That might get noticed.”
“Not in a war zone. Not with the Tormentor able to basically do whatever he wants with the Saxons. He's here for more than just his advice.”
“It's not like I believe it. But Jorunn seeks a culprit”, Anlaufr sighed. “We have to give her one, and Hæsteinn's out of reach.”
“Perhaps we won't have to. She's already left, running after Ubbe. What ails young Hæsteinn?”
“Nothing one can't survive, even if it does strike harder than most. He may well recover completely.”
“Let us hope for it then. For we will not have to deliver a culprit.”
“How so?”
“You should know that, you are the seer”, Hafrid said mockingly. “For no matter if it was a curse or not, Hæsteinn would have passed a test of his strength making him worthy to be one of Odin's favoured, like his father and uncles.”
That was something Anlaufr liked to hear. And if he saved Ubbe's son from a curse – what else would the king be able to do than to compensate him for his work? Preferably with the dominion over the Welsh...
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Oh, so this is continuing beyond Ubbe's life. Glad to hear.
What I've actually meant to say is that I perhaps should have kept a save from back then, but then again you aren't entirely wrong
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