The conquest of Durham
July - August 867
On the morrow did Halfdan halt the rape and spoilage of Durham and bade his men rest, true to his word. Whereas he made such great show of passing food and drink to the cowering men, women and children, for they knew not their fate. And gathering what leading Nobles remained, he did lay forth his terms, charging they maintain the peace, as he would take no hostages, for he was yet on campaign, and would leave a smallish garrison. Were they to break the peace, he did vow to exact a terrifying revenge and make thralls of the survivors.
The Nobles did agree, seeing no recourse, so Halfdan, reunited with son Ragnar, gathered his men and did marcheth on the market town of Chester Upon Street, known to rest on the ruins of a Roman settlement. Here they said lay the bones of Saint Cuthbert, though a source most reliable to me did claim his bones were nay delivered from Lindisfarne and interred at said shrine but some fifteen years later. Be that as it may, Halfdan judged the town held import, and after a short siege did acquire it.
Thereupon, presenting the identical terms he spoke at Durham, and forthwith meeting acceptance, Halfdan did advance on the coastal town of Hartlepool and again lay siege. Again he met resistance, for the people of Durham are stout and have no love of the Norse, but succumb they did near July's end when a Viking fleet blockaded the harbour and prevented the delivery of foodstuffs.
And that ended the conquest of Durham, whom the Vikings call Dunholm, though King Ælla was loathe to tender defeat and, gathering a great army, did march into neigbouring Westmoreland with intent to give battle against Ivar. Now, when Halfdan heard this, he did march forthwith and, in early August, did meet with Ivar, Bjorn and Sigurd, where they fought a series of skirmishes with the Saxon King, until the day the armies met on the fields near Appleby and the brothers did claim a great victory...
From 'Being the Secret History of Geoffrey Monmouth'
Eyes wild with battle lust...
August 20, 867 - Aftermath of Appleby
The blood-soaked axe came down hard, slicing into the shoulder blade, through cloth armour, flesh and bone before lodging deep in the Saxon's chest. Halfdan braced one heavy boot against the dying man and, muscles bunching under the sleeves of his tunic, tore free the weapon with a savage cry.
Eyes wild with battle lust, red beard flecked with spittle, Halfdan held the axe ready in two strong hands and cast about, looking for another foe to engage. But, what enemy remained gave him wide berth. Of the half dozen Saxons who had originally circled the isolated Viking, thinking him easy prey, three lay dead at his feet. Unwilling to test the fierce Viking further, the remainder cast aside their weapons and fled the field, joining the remnants of King Ælla's shattered army.
"Come back, you craven dogs," Halfdan shouted at their fleeing backs. "
Bone Cleaver yearns more Saxon blood." Cursing their cowardice, he set the axe head on the ground and leaned on the haft, drawing deep breaths.
"Resting, Father?" Ragnar approached, his youthful face smeared with dirt and blood, the rings of his chainmail shirt parted along the breast, exposing the tunic beneath.
Halfdan stirred. "You all right, boy?"
Ragnar glanced down at his chest and shrugged. "Some Thane I fought. A worthy opponent, he was. Managed to tickle me before I struck him down."
By now Halfdan's men were gathering around, trading boasts and crude jokes at the expense of the beaten enemy.
Ubbe pushed through their ranks and joined father and son. The look he gave Halfdan was full of reproach. "It would serve us better if you refrained from wandering off in search of glory."
Halfdan allowed a smile and looked to the sky. Grey clouds hid the sun and portended rain. Ravens gathered, circling the battlefield. He looked to Ubbe. "Let us find Ivar and discover the fate of that dog Ælla."
Ubbe and Ragnar exchanged unpleasant looks.
#
Along the banks of the River Eden...
Ivar and his great shield had been placed on a rock outcropping, allowing him a substantial view of his surroundings. His face a clouded mask of fury, he grimly watched Sigurd oversee the herding of prisoners into a hastily constructed prison along the banks of the River Eden.
Eyes sweeping the scene, Halfdan fought a sense of unease and called out to his older sibling. "Hail and good health, Brother. A fine victory we have this day."
"T'would better that cur Ælla had not escaped us."
"Aye, it would, but it does little to diminish today's achievements, and should bring cheer to that dour visage of yours."
Ivar fixed Halfdan with a dark, foreboding stare. "Do you mock me, Brother?"
Backing a step, Halfdan spread his arms. "Not at all. I merely suggest we celebrate the victory Father Odin granted us this day. Westmoreland is ours for the taking now."
The heavy cloth of the kjalta covering his lower body stirred, and Ivar appeared to rise in stature before leaning forward, an accusing finger pointing. "This was Cthulhu's victory," he snapped. "Cthulhu's alone. Would that you not deny it." He waved his hand to encompass Ubbe and Ragnar. "Why you reject his worship troubles me."
Halfdan frowned. "Truth be told, I am concerned over your reliance on these Great Old Ones." He pointed at the kjalta. "I know you have paid a heavy price for your victories. A price I will not question out of love for you. But why Sigurd? Why have you brought him into this wicked fold?"
"Leave me out of it," Sigurd said, striding over to stand near Ivar. "I worship who I will."
"And these prisoners? Are they for ransom, or will they feed your fishmen tonight?"
Ivar settled back. "The Great Old Ones require their sacrifice."
Thunder cracked, and a deluge of heavy drops fell, quickly turning the ground to mud.
Raising his voice to make himself heard, Halfdan said, "I think Father Odin disagrees."
Ivar glanced up, and for a brief moment his eyes held uncertainty, but for only a moment.
Halfdan said, "Half of these Saxons are mine to do with as I wish."
Ivar slowly shook his head. "Nay, Brother. On the morrow I depart north, with Sigurd and Bjorn, in search of Ælla. It is enough I leave Westmoreland for you to conquer. As for these Saxons, they are mine."
A figure detached from Ivar's arrayed Vikings and strode purposely to stand with Halfdan and Ubbe. Halfdan nodded a sharp greeting.
Ivar snarled. "You would desert me, Bjorn?"
"I have no love for your Great Old Ones, Ivar. I and my men stand with Halfdan and Ubbe."
"So be it," Ivar thundered. "By your actions this coalition is ended. I will no longer ally myself with brothers unworthy of trust."
Lips stretched into a thin line, Halfdan turned on his heel and left Ivar and Sigurd to be swallowed by the driving rain. With few words spoken, the men shifted and moved to rejoin their appointed leaders, and an uneasy calm endured until morning, when the divided army went their separate ways.
And afterwards, when Halfdan visited the Saxon prison by the River Eden, not a body was found.
"I think Father Odin disagrees."