Shield wall: Part one

Shield wall!

The familiar command came, and as one the ragged line of men drew closer together, shoulder to shoulder.

The first rank sank to their knees grounding their rectangle wooden shields on the grassy hillside with a solid thunk interlocking them and bracing forward. The second rank stood immediately behind the first, reached up and over with their shield's locking the bottom of their shields with the top of the first ranks' overlapping them slightly and yet a third row of men moved up behind adding to the hight of the wall by holding their shield's over the top providing cover from arrows...It was meagre cover, but cover enough, for some.

At the centre of the second rank stood a young man, unable to move much due to the press of soldiers around him, peering outward from a small gap between the shields. He could see the mass of Dane's across the shallow valley; Hundreds of them. Hundreds, who would soon attack across the grassy space, a mass of long beards and braided hair, crude face and body tattoo's and weapons; Axes, swords, spears and clubs. He could recall the first time he faced them, just a boy, or so it seemed; Sixteen. A boy at the beginning of that encounter, a man afterwards having killed many Dane's and Northmen for God and King Alfred. The eye patch he wore was a constant reminder of that battle... And here he was again, more Dane's, more battles and hopefully another victory, god willing, he thought.

His attention snapped back to the present as a huge cry sounded across the valley, punctuated by the sound of axe, sword and spear beaten upon round wooden shields. Gripping his spear more tightly he tried to shuffle his feet into a more braced position to absorb and resist the immense impact to come when the Dane's crashed into the shield wall. Hopefully his spear would find a home in many of his enemies he thought. The young man hoped those around him would hold, despite being young boys new to the ranks, and he ignored the smell of piss as they emptied their bladders in fear; There was no shame in it though, it happened to most, the first time.

They came...Huge shaggy men in furs, leather, and various assortments of armour or mail; Some bare from the waist up...They shouted like maniacs; The man wondered at their love for battle. They wanted to die in battle, sword or axe in hand; Passage to Valhalla through a glorious death in battle they believed. But battle wasn't glorious, not really. Arrows fell thunking into the shield wall like heavy rain. Deadly rain. Men fell. Screamed, and fell, and the other's closed ranks to fill in the ragged holes forming in the shield wall.

He'd been afraid in the first battle but after taking another man's life one get's accustomed to it and the fear goes away, eventually. He began to enjoy it, the rush of battle and the feeling, right after, that only good ale and a woman could rival, but now he performed mechanically, like the ever-turning waterwheel at his family's mill, thrust, parry, block, thrust, parry, block...Stay alive and if today is his day he would give as good as he got before the end.

Those ragged man-beasts, Viking's, used to scare him but no longer. It's their women who frighten him still; The Shield Maidens. Every bit as fierce as the men, equally skilled at battle but more...aggressive, almost crazy in their lust for death. The men wanted to kill Saxon's, for glory and sliver; The shield maidens wanted to tear them apart, seeking only blood and revenge, like they had something to prove. If the Saxon's yielded, as they did many times to negotiate, the shield maidens looked disappointed and urged for battle to rejoin. src

They had frightened him since one of them took his eye...Maybe it was because many of them were beautiful. The contradiction between that beauty and the savagery in the way they fought was something he found difficult to comprehend. Pale of skin, fierce blue eyes, high cheek bones and lithe, strong bodies...He could see them now, almost upon the shield wall, the wild blue eyes of a shield maiden looking right at him through a gap in the wall...Coming to take his life...He didn't like killing the women but he braced for the impact and the fog of war descended...

The shield wall broke, collapsing inwards under the compressed weight of the Dane's and Northmen, and like a bloody flood they poured through fanning outwards to the flanks hacking and slashing. The wall wavered right along its length until the battle was a confused mess of humanity, blood and body parts flying, screaming men and women, and those already fallen trampled underfoot. All semblance of order was gone the moment the shield wall broke.

It didn't last long...The Saxon's broke and retreated back up the hill in disarray running for their lives. The Dane's didn't follow - The day was won. They systematically dispatched those not dead yet, a quick slice to the throat with a knife or sword, collected weapons and armour and began the march back to their ships and camp beside the Thames. Wessex was proving to be ripe for the plucking...Victories led to negotiations and payments in silver from the Saxon's for them to go away. Which of course, they had no intention of doing. Battle and plunder was what they lived for...And women, ale and a glorious death.

He lay groaning slightly as he came to. The knock to his head dropped him like a sack of grain. His eye patch was gone, lost in the fighting somewhere, revealing a ragged hole where his eye should be and his good eye was only just now starting to regain focus. Someone stood over him, a woman he saw now, a tall Dane with the most striking grey eyes.

Covered in blood and knife in hand she resembled a butcher, and he supposed indeed she was. She'll cut my throat he thought and he wanted to turn his head away but he glared at her instead. Defiant, but hopeless. He heard a shout and saw her look away then wave to someone. She looked back down, sighed almost imperceptibly, then kneeled down beside him. He knew this was the end and turned his head away but instead of cold steel to his throat he felt warm breath as the words, you're now a slave, Saxon reached his ears...

This is a little piece I wrote a couple days ago, just for fun. I haven't written anything like this for a little while and wanted to see how it may turn out. You'll be the judge I guess. Good, bad or indifferent, I enjoyed writing it. The title suggests a follow up and there may well be, time will tell.

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