The Temporal Knights (57 page)

“The Boneless mayhap be ridin’ about like a prize, but ye know na where his brother Halfdan is hidin’. If ye move down the Lizard without Sir Eadwulf at yor back, Halfdan is sure to find ye, and then we be crushed.”

“We canna let him get to the Exe…or skirt through the fens to the Frome,” Sir Helmstan argued and frowned at the older man’s caution. “Ivarr has slipped past too many times now…he truly is boneless. This may be yor only chance to spear him. F
læ
d will come! She always has!”

Wulfhere, who was pushing fifty and much older than Sir Helmstan, shook his head sadly at the young man; young men were all about risks. “I only council patience; let us receive word from Sir Eadwulf or the Lady of Mercia. Send out riders my king and know you be protected before moving onto the Lizard.”

“If’n ye wait, the Boneless will surely be gone,” Helmstan spat in disgust, hating the fear and caution that oozed from the old man’s blood.

Alfred took a moment to consider the two sides, his calm reason was something Sir Wulfhere admired and Helmstan tolerated.

“Sir Helmstan, I want ye to take our mounted knights and ride hard and fast to Tiverton. Hold them from the river. Ivarr has moved too far from his ships at Bridport, he canna return and ye must block his escape to the fens,” he said and looked straight into the younger man’s eyes. All told they had two hundred mounted knights, an impressive force for the day but they would undoubtedly be up against a force at least ten times larger if Ivarr chose to attack instead of flee.

“If they come afore midday ye must hold. If’n they reach the river they
be sure to flee. I will come west from Axminster to keep the Boneless from retracing his path. If they do na come ye will ride to meet us for we will have them,” Alfred said, his eyes burning with the desire to make it so.

“Axminster is still a long march off,” his Chancellor replied, though he was not really protesting, just making a statement, knowing what answer his King would give. They would move fast, they had to if they had any hope of catching the Boneless, who was born slippery. Still, despite his own desire for combat, Wulfhere thought this little expedition was more than likely a waste of time. The Danes would never meet them in battle and Ivarr was much too clever to be caught inland. He would escape to his ships on the river, or flee to the coast as he always did, and the King would once again be livid. It was the way of things.

“We’ll march til Sunday if need be to catch the Danish scourge!” Both advisors nodded, agreeing whole heartedly with the sentiment. But Wulfhere was correct, Ivarr was just bait and the bulk of the Danish force under Halfdan was at that very moment landing to the west of Portland Bill. Ivarr’s brother Halfdan commanded an unheard of force of two thousand horsemen, supported by just over four thousand foot soldiers and another two thousand English archers, a gift from Æthelstan Halfkyng, pretend ruler of East Anglia. It was the greatest army to invade English soil since the Romans, and would be the largest until William the Conqueror arrived nearly three quarters of a century in the future. There would be no simple looting and killing peasants this time. They had finally landed with a mighty purpose; intent only on destroying the Anglish King Alfred, who was growing strong. The Wessex King had foolishly ignored and fought against Danelaw, which was inexorably taking over the island.

After a short thirty-minute rest, Alfred sent Sir Helmstan on his way and steered Bunerslieht up a small hill then he turned to his army, nearly four thousand strong, the largest force he had yet assembled.

Tall, reserved and normally quite shy around great crowds, Alfred stared out at a sea of faces and felt pride. These were his people, willing to fight and die at his command, for this land. The fire of the righteous filled the King of Wessex and he spurred his mount just a bit closer to the front lines and then spoke in a strong, clear voice. “The Boneless is on the move once again,” he said, his voice carrying through the light wind that had kicked up in the early afternoon. “Tryin’ to kill yor brothers and rape yor sisters as he ‘nd Ragnar before him have been a doin’ for many, many years,” Alfred continued, and those who were closest to him could hear the passion in his usually reserved voice. “But he’ll find no easy plunder on this day. The people of the southron lands should be safe in their buhrs and if Ivarr dallies we will have ‘em. No more can the Boneless harm and then flee before retribution. The people are safe and we will rush to their aid. We can finally catch ‘em, but it’s gonna take a mighty march to Axminster. Are ye up for it men? Are ye up for killin’ the Boneless and drivin’ the Danes from all of Angland?”

A great roar went up from the men in the field, startling a large group of blackbirds from a grove of nearby oaks. Most of the men assembled had at some point in their lives fought against or witnessed the aftermath of a Viking raid. It was not something to forget easily, and so they marched. It was a long two day march to Exeter, but true to his word, King Alfred marched them all day and well into the night, before rising early and marching all day once more before reaching the northern outskirts of Exeter near nine in the evening. Exeter’s Magistrate met the King with surprise and relief, having taken up refuge behind the newly built walls of the town. A few of the townsfolk huddled inside their homes, but most headed for the Anglish buhr built around the south of the town. It was large enough to protect a great many innocents inside its mighty walls.

“M’lord the Danes have learned and built their own buhr not a half mile from here. Ye can see their fires from the bell tower,” the Magistrate stammered. The man was old and his head shook slightly every so often from a nervous tick that was growing worse as the night wore on.

“Show me,” the King commanded, and indeed the Viking stronghold was within easy sight, but most of the details were lost in the darkness.

“Tis a trap,” Sir Wulfhere said quickly. “They knew we were comin’.”

Alfred grunted, knowing his Ealdorman was undoubtedly correct, but how soon were they expecting relief? Mayhap they could still storm the temporary buhr and take the Danish King before the trap was closed.

“Send a rider to Tiverton and fetch Helmstan. I be wantin’ me cavalry back before day break, and send out scouts five miles in all directions, have them look well for an approaching army,” he added with a nod to Wulfhere. “Halfdan is out there…I can smell him.”

“Yah M’lord,” the Ealdorman replied and prepared to leave but Alfred took him roughly by the arm. “Send a rider to Shaftesbury as well, and let us all pray that Lord Eadwulf has moved fast these last four days and can ride down to spring his own trap.”

Wulfhere nodded and left his Lord scratching his beard and considering the situation in quiet.
‘Tis it then,’
Alfred thought, gazing out into the night at the distance fires, one of which undoubtedly warmed the Boneless. He would have his chance at Ivarr and Ivarr would have his chance at him. After a moment Alfred turned and moved swiftly down the tower’s narrow stairway, once in the village’s small square he gave swift orders to have his fyrd move out. He would encircle the Danish fortifications and trap the Boneless if he could. He also moved a hundred archers across the small river to west. They would hide in the banks and shoot down any who would make for water the next day.

§

Ivarr’s army under Halfdan was thirty miles to the east and south, having stopped just north of Colyton Hill, and vastly underestimated the speed at which King Alfred would move down the Lizard after the bait, but it wasn’t until the next morning that the Boneless received his surprise. But even as Ivarr looked out at the large Anglish force, he was unconcerned. He was perfectly safe behind his new walls and Halfdan would come soon. Ivarr knew that he had finally won the day. The buhr they’d built was well placed and well conceived, complete with a deep trench around three sides, and high walls with sharpened timbers facing the attacking force. The river guarded the fourth side. Normally they would have ships on the water that could whisk them to safety but today they were empty, after all bait did little good if it was snatched away too quickly. Inside, the makeshift fortress was relatively empty; except for tents and a half dozen hastily constructed structures that were little more than poles holding up a sodden wooden roof for protection against the arrows they all knew would come. The structures were open on all sides and were built large enough to protect all of Ivarr’s men as well as the three dozen horses in their possession. Ivarr was thankful that he’d pushed his men so in building the buhr, since King Alfred had shown such impatience to come to battle.

Ivarr, who sat atop the wall near the only gate in or out, was confident he and his men could hold the buhr for weeks if necessary, though he was sure only a few days would be needed. This time Alfred would be crushed and Ubba, his youngest brother, would be avenged...and then this entire land would be for the taking…so much nicer it twas than Daneland. His daydreaming was interrupted as a large group of horseman appeared in the west. They moved slowly across the ford in the river and joined up with the Alfred’s main fyrd that now surrounding the fortress.

Sir Helmstan, warlord and advisor to the king, arrived with his mounted knights just after the sun peeked over the horizon. They’d ridden hard through the mists that had settled on the land overnight. Helmstan was a short man, but lithe and extremely quick and strong for his size. He had amazingly wide shoulders for his height and very powerful arms and wrists. He was a very capable fighting man, good on a horse, but he excelled with a sword in his hand. Sometimes he wished he was just a fighting man, without the troubles of lands and politics, but as a trusted advisor to the king, he had larger worries than just about his next killin’. And he fought tirelessly for Alfred, who trusted Helmstan despite his rash actions at times, simply because he did not covet the crown and actually pitied the wearer. He was a fighting man…it’s what he loved best in the entire world.

Helmstan stopped his mount next to the King and looked out toward the makeshift, though strongly built buhr. He could see a number of Danes manning the walls and crude towers. They showed little concern over the army that was arrayed against them.

“Tis a trap,” Helmstan said, panting from the long ride.

“Tis exactly wot Sir Wulfhere believes.”

Helmstan nodded. He didn’t much like Wulfhere, but he trusted his military instincts even though the man was growing too cautious in his old age.

The King smiled, and looked over at his friend. “Mayhap the Boneless is hiding in there as some of me men have said, mayhap
na. Wot think ye?”

Wulfhere shrugged. “Ye have scouts about, lookin’ for thee hammer that comes?”

Alfred nodded.

“Have men north watching in case these Ammericaans come to join the Boneless?”

Again Alfred nodded, but at the moment that was not his greatest worry. He feared Halfdan far more. “Yah, Sir Æthelnoth sent word, he be moving down with his fyrd from Somerset. He tells that thee Ammericaans be in the east with Eadwulf.”

Helmstan frowned.
“Tis more a worry than the Boneless eh?”

“Mayhap…but Æthelnoth swears by their honor,” Alfred replied. “We will see? Wot ye think?”

“Wot does it matter where thee Ammericaans be…or Halfdan, ye have traveled far and fast. Let us try to take the bait before the trap is sprung,” Helmstan insisted

“
Wot no rest?” Alfred asked and laughed. Helmstan shook his head negatively. “We be needin’ to go now,” he answered.

Alfred, sitting tall in the saddle smiled again. “Mayhap ye should be King.”

Helmstan grimaced at the suggestion. “M’lord...” he began, truly disturbed by the proposal, but the King waved away his concerns.

“Archers!” Alfred yelled to his squire, moments later the appropriate flag was flapping wildly in the early morning breeze. A large group of nearly one thousand archers spread across more than three hundred yards stepped forward and prepared for battle. Another flag waved and the very same archers launched a volley of fiery arrows into the Danish buhr. Sir Wulfhere was surprised that the King did not parley with the Danes first, as was the custom, but then they had little time for pleasantries and customs. The arrows arched gracefully through the early morning air and landed with fury in and around the compound. There was no answering volley, but neither the King nor Sir Wulfhere held out much hope that any serious damage or injury would be done to either the Danes or their buhr. They and their horses would be well protected from such an attack, and because the river flowed nearby they would have plenty of water around to douse any serious strikes. Three volleys in all arched through the air before another flag was raised and the infantry moved forward with a resounding yell. The men charged well and strong from all sides as a final volley of arrows streaked over their heads in a vain attempt to protect their charge as they closed on the buhr. Some of the soldiers carried hastily constructed ladders, some carried crossbows bolted and ready; most just carried lances, battle hammers though a few of the wealthier had swords. Whatever their arms, they all attacked with passion and determination. They hit the ditch which protected the small fortress before any of the Danes appeared on the wall then the enemy rose up with arrows notched and spears ready.

King Alfred watched with some trepidation. He was sure the attack could be won in time, but it would come at a terrible price. The sooner they breached the walls the better the battle would go. But the King watched with quiet resignation, many men would die in this field, and most he would know to some degree.