Stories Written by Sven

Stories Written by Sven

The Raid.

Dated: December 2003

Summary: a raid on a ninth century Swedish village called Rök in Östergötland, some old Varangians are not happy with the raiders.

Link to Download a PDF Version

The Raid

By Stephen Francis Wyley

Copyright 6^th December 2003

Web Published 19 Dec 2016

How it began…

A ninth century Swedish village called Rök in Östergötland is in the business of living (hunting, crowing crops, making crafts for use and sale, and building (a fort, and a new longhouse). While out in the wilds a group of rag tag bandits are plotting to take revenge for the adverse outcome of their last exploit which left them licking their wounds and bury a number of comrades in arms. These two scenes are interconnected by actions on one man, his name is Vamod (Skullspliter) Eriksson. A son of Varin, Jarl of the region, with a gift of foresight, luck and skill at arms, had come on the bandits, as they were about to ambush a merchant by the name of Thorstein, on his way to Rök. Vamod’s attack from the rear had caught the bandits by surprise and they had been scattered like the wind under barrage of his whirlwind attacks (backed up by the counter attack from below by the merchant’s own guards and Sigrun, his fosterdaughter).

So while Thorstein the merchant sat at the high table toasting Vamod’s delivery from the bandits. The bandits were spying out the Village, seeking a way to reek revenge and gather some spoils, without exposing them to defences of such a village.

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Rök is your typical 9^th century Viking village, it is summer the crops are ready for harvesting, hunting and fishing have also been good this year, and the fort to the west of the village should be finished before winter sets in.

Along the road from Mjöby leading to the village, a small party, a merchant (Thorstein), his beautiful fosterdaughter (Sigrun) sit on a horse drawn cart, and two wily veterans and horse back (Valgard (the Stout) and Thorvald (the Lean) (ex-Varangian Guard members, working their way home) amble along the road. The wind makes the pines sigh and smell of pine resin permeates the air. All is calm and the travelers are blissfully unaware of how the lives are about to be changed.

On either side of the road bandits take up their positions among the bushes, trying to be quiet and still until the signal to attack is given. Arni (the bandit leader) crouches behind a pile logs to the south of the road with eight of his gang, while on the other side of the road Egil (his trusted assistant) sits on the pine needles eyeing the situation with anticipation, with another five members of the gang. The members of the gang are armed for a fight (spears, swords, long axes and daggers) but it is better to avoid unnecessary blood shed. The plan was to move in quickly and overwhelm the poorly defended party, take what was easily movable and tradable and leave. But Loki (the god of ill luck) was bound to spoil the party.

Vamod has been visiting his friend Erik the forester, to discuss his future (should he go a Viking and visit fabled Miklagard [1](to the Greeks it is Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire), maybe even join the famous imperial bodyguard called the Varangian Guard.[2] On the way back home to Rök he took a short cut home to the village. Vamod is soft footed in the forest so Frodi crouched behind some bush, never new what hit him as Vamod shield rim hit him in the side of the helm. In an instant Vamod realizes what is about to take place. Vamod lets out yell to scare the rest of the bandits and to warn the merchant and his following below. Vamod launches himself at the bandits, one after the other the bandits turn to face the raging onslaught that descends on them.

Glum turned to face Vamod and let out the preverbal “shit”, as he is shield charged and falls head over heels and knocks Egil into a tree in the process, both collapse in a heap. Harald, whose job it was to block the road decides to attack the merchant instead (it is hard to find good help these days). Thorstein, the wily and agile merchant[3] jumped down off the cart and side steps Harold’s spear thrust and punches him hard in jaw, causing his feet to fly forward from under him and then hit the ground with a bone jarring thud.

“Bastards”, Thorstein exclaimed as he rang his hand and then drew his sword.

Sigurd, who was on the south side of the road and supposed to join Harald in blocking road made a grab for Sigrun’s dress and pulls her off the cart. Sigrun (who was not a meek or frail thing)[4] kicked Sigurd (without remorse) in groin and hits him over the head with skillet.

Gilli (an exponent of the long axe), charged Valgard (the stout), letting out a what he thought was a blood curdling “AAAARRRggghhhh!!!”.[5] Valgard spurred his trusty mount just as Gilli began to raise his arms to make a horse felling blow. Valgard’s struck Gilli a bone shattering blow (you could hear the air whoosh out of Gilli’s lungs as contact was made. Gilli landed some two metres back along the way he had come.

On the other flank Eirik is trying his damnedest to close the escape to the rear, eventhough he just saw what happened to Gilli (brave but foolish). Thorvald (the Lean) raises his spear and throws it at Eirik. Eirik was far to nibble to be taken unawares, lets out a chuckle and rushes Thorvald before he can draw his sword. Attacking a mounted and armed warrior is a daunting task at the best of times but he could be lucky[6] However, things were going wrong, someone had sprung the trap and now the ambusher’s were being made the ambushees. But Eirik was the stubborn type and he had a job and he was going to do it. Thorvald moved his horse sideways as Eirik rushes and chops downwards on Eirik’s shaft, Eirik looked down at the useless head of the spear on the ground with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the last sight he saw was the reflected light of the sunlight coming through trees on Thorvald’s raised sword.

Up the hill to the north, Vamod, turned to face Egil’s attack, exclaiming “Where did you spring from!”. Vamod replied with smile “From my mothers womb”. The exchange of their blows was like the noise in a blacksmith’s workshop, neither willing to give ground, Vamod seeing his chance pushes Egil over a convenient log, leaving Egil stunned. As Hauk, with his sword raised rushed down to the road to at Thorstein (who was fighting Harald at the time). Vamod intersected his route and sword and shield fight insured, they were evenly matched, but Vamod faked a head attack, thus prompting Hauk to raise his shield in defence. Vamod thrusts his sword through Hauk’s mail armoured stomach, making a grating sound. Hauk let out a cry of anguish and pain and crumpled to the ground clutching his midsection.

Thorvald (the lean) rode at Bjorn, who had his long axe raised above his head ready to attack Thorstein. Thorvald timed his strike well and the axe head was sent flying back up the hill and Bjorn himself was ridden down.

Vamod stepped in front of Sigrun as Hadd and Flosi joined forces. Valgard and Thorvald rushed to either flank and the outcome was decided. Hadd and Flosi were not about to die for no gain, they turned and fled into the forest. Arni also seeing the change in fortunes, called off the attack and runs with his cohorts into the forest. On the northern flank Egil collected the walking wounded and head off to attempt to meet up with Arni.

As soon as the bandits had run off the merchant began to castigating his guards for leaving him (and his kinswoman) and his goods alone. Of course this was untrue and it was much a flagellation of his own self for driving right into an ambush. Such a thing would not have happened in his younger days, ahhhh happier and more dangerous times…

Valgard and Thorvald dismounted and tied their reins to the gate and got a better look at the youngster that help save their pay packet. “Greetings and salutations” Vamod said beaming a wide grin as he exchanged hand clasps and thanks with the guards. Thorstein bustled his way forwarded eager to thank the man that helped to save his life and more importantly his goods. Sheathing his blade, Vamod said “I am Vamod of Rök and I wish to apologise to you for the manner of our meeting, we were not aware of any bandits in this area until now. Please come to my village were you will find welcome and rest, and a heavily laden feasting table” said Vamod.

“It is to Rök that I am traveling and Varin the Jarl is my brother so it is doubly fortuitous that we meet on this day” said Thorstein. Adding reluctantly “And this is my fosterdaughter Sigrun”. Sigrun, with a smile, looks deeply into the young man’s eyes with unashamed envy (and twinkling of lust). Vamod smiles back and blushes, then turns away to deal with the dead. As is the custom in that part of the world, Vamod and the guards bury the bodies of the fallen bandits.[7] And then Vamod led the merchant’s party the rest of the way to the village.

There was a stir in the village as the party emerges from the trees. A merchant meant goods to sell, barter and buy. Thorstein is greeted with open arms by his brother, Varin the Jarl[8] out in front of the longhouse and is invited to feast in his all that night. Thorstein is on his way home after a trip to Novgorod (Russia), next day there would be a small market. There were pelts and other crafts available in the village, and the villagers were keen to see the wares from the East. During the feast Vamod is given fine gifts by the Thorstein but is not formally introduced to the Sigrun.

The bandits regrouped and in the process found the Forester’s cabin and torture him for information, steal is wealth (be it ever so humble) and food. Arni and Egil hatch a plot to get revenge, hopefully without to many losses. Today’s fiasco and cost them good fighters, let alone the wealth that lay in the merchant’s cart.

During the feast the bandits creep close to the village to check out the defences. There are no guards set, unless you count those in the partially compete fort. The wooden fort is set on peninsular with water on three sides and an earthen ditch at the front. Only a third of the palisade has been completed. This could be used to distract the villages if it was set on fire…

Thorstein’s goods had been put in the guest cabin and the guard’s are sitting on a bench outside the door, busy sipping mead and flirting with the two young and lithe maidens who brought them food and mead. Valgard and Thorvald had been on the road for some time without wetting their appetites.

Arni set the plan in motion, a combination of multiple decoy attacks, with a snatch and grab on the merchants cabin. The bandits took up their positions awaiting the signal of the firing of the fort’s palisade. The plan relied on timing, confusion (on the part of the villagers) and speed, any direct confrontation was to be avoided.

Sat around the fire in the bailey of the fort the guards of the fort were envious of those siting at the benches in the longhouse, and sat cursing their luck. Harald, Glum and Egil crossed the causeway to the west of the fort. Through the gaps in the palisade they could spy all that was going on inside. Egil motioned the others to set their faggots and tinder against the wall, and with bark container with smoking embers sets to light the tinder.

While Egil blows on the embers Harald heads off to the south of the village to set fire to crops, the barley and rye that is just about ready for reaping. Once the fire is going, Glum and Egil head off to the cattle enclosure to let them out and drive them off (hopefully for food on the hoof later).

While Svan sat honing the blade on his spearhead[9] he caught the sight of the flames licking the wooden palisade out of the corner of his eye. With a lurch and cry Svan raised the alarm. When no actual attack could be seen Svan left Mord and Hakon to put the fire out with some aid from some of the other villagers which had come to see what was amiss. Svan decided to leave the fort and report the incident to Varin.

“My lord someone has set fire to the palisading of the fort, the fire is out now but there is some damage ” said Svan, as another fire sprang to life in the barley and rye fields to the South. Varin fears for the worst and calls the village to arms. Varin dispatched Vamod, Svan, Bork, Onund & Alf to the fort to search for the attackers. Then Varin sends Thorkell & Kveldulf to check out the crop fire and to organise the villagers in that quarter to assist. At this stage Glum and Egil were dismantling the woven wood fence to the north which surrounded the cattle enclosure and were in the process of prodding the sleeping beasts into mobility towards the gap in the fence. “Oww!”, Glum exclaimed as one of the cows stepped on his foot. “Curse these beast, this is one of the reasons I left my father’s farm, I hate the smell and the drudgery of looking after them”, Glum continued until silenced by Egil.

The lowing of the cattle can be now heard above the din and Vamod sent Bork & Onund to check out the cattle enclosure and to organise the villagers in that quarter. What else was going to happen?

From his vantage point amongst the trees Arni can see the havoc his decoys are having on the village. Arni sends Eirik, Flosi, Hadd, Gilli, Bjorn & Yngvar to block any counter attack from the long house. As soon as Eirik and his lot where in place, Arni attacks the Quest house with Sigurd, Hauk, Frodi & Olaf. Valgard and Thorvald were not to far into their horns and as yet, were still wearing their armour when Arni ran screaming out of the night. Arni’s charge was meet by directly by a shield shattering blow from Valgard’s long axe and Arni is cast heavily to the ground with the shards of his shield still attached by the enarmes[10]. The fight for the cabin (and its contents) has begun, it is torrid scene but the skill and armour of the guards presents a real obstacle to Arni’s plan.

Vamod, Svan and Alf reach the fort as the flames where being extinguished by some of the villages under the direction of Mord. While standing on the ramparts surveying the damage, they could hear the clashing of steel on steel on the other side of the village. “Damn!!”, roared Vamod, “follow me and be swift, there is something rotten in Rök”. Svan and Alf tried vainly to match strides but where no match for the long legged warrior.

Back at the longhouse, Varin could see that the fire at the fort and in the fields were out but waited anxiously to hear about the attacks. “Bring me my hauberk[11] and sword and make ready of battle” Varin shouted. Those at the long house also here the sounds of battle and are alarmed. The gentlefolk are barricaded in the cellar while those able to bear arms assemble ready to follow their Jarl commands.

Varin looking about him as those around him donned their armour said, “I don’t know who and why the bandits are attacking us but we will defend what is ours. Stay close to me and watch out for archers…Where is Vamod?” Varin, now gird in his mail, with Thorstein armed with his sword, along with Ozur, Hakon, Grim and Odd rushed out of the longhouse to the quest house, at the same time as Vamod, Svan, and Alf, Mord and Hakon, speed back from the fort. Varin and his followers are confronted by Arni’s rearguard and second battle ensures.

Arni at this stage is thinking to himself, “this is not my day and why did I have to let revenge get the better of me,…greed…greed, that’s what drove me to this, ahhh such is life”.

Valgard and Thorvald have put up a stern defence and have dealt more than just wounds on the attackers but they have received wounds themselves and there arms feel like they are encased in lead. As Arni was about to stab Valgard a mortal wound from behind Vamod let out a roar and charged forward. Arni turned to face his charging nemesis with gritted teeth and a lowered point, he was going to get some of the revenge he wanted. Vamod was fresh and full of the lust for battle. Vamod’s sword searches out and found Arni’s flesh. With a large rent in his mail shirt Arni turned tail and ran, and his fellow bandits see the way of things, fell back and fled too. The other bandits facing Varin’s overwhelming attack are defeated. Those that survived where captured and when they we able were put to work about the village.

Varin looked around and took stock and then ordered, “Svan, take Mord, Hakon and the hounds and chase down those devils. If you can’t catch them a least see that they are beyond my lands by the tomorrow’s nightfall”. Varin was not a man to let criminals escape justice. The archers and the hounds would be enough to deal with what remained of the raiders. Arni was later captured while trying to hide in a ditch (his wounds leaving him disabled), his wound is not fatal and he will be tried at the next Law Court. The bodies of the dead bandits are buried in a pit, while the wounds of the defenders are cared for. Sigrun makes her mind known to Vamod while tending his wounds, with joy he embraces this vixen with his long, strong arms.

The crops are harvested and most of the cattle are returned to their fenced enclosure. The palisade and the flanking and gate towers of the fort are completed. Valgard and Thorvald think good and hard about going home, considering the hospitality shown here. And Vamod and Sigrun are married, and the feast begins. The mead and ale flows like a river and the food disappears like green foliage in the path of a plague of locusts but no one goes away complaining about the provision set on the table of the host.

Bibliography:

Carlsson, D., & Owen, O., Eds., Follow the Vikings, Highlights of the Viking World, Council of Europe Cultural Routes, Viking Heritage, 1996.

Brown, J., Sinclair, M., Scandinavia, Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Finland, The Rough Guide, 1993.

Davidson, E.H.R., Viking & Norse Mythology, 1994.

Fritzes Kungliga Hovbokhandel., This is Sweden, Stockholm.

Graham-Campbell, J., The Viking World, 1980.

Graham-Campbell, J., Kidd, D., The Vikings, 1980.

Hovbokhandel, F.K., This is Sweden, Stockholm.

Magnusson, M., Hammer of the North, Myths and Heroes of the Viking Age, 1976.

Magnusson, M. & Pálsson, H., Trans., Njal’s Saga, 1986.

Pálsson, H. & Edwards, P., Trans., Egil’s Saga, 1980.

Sawyer, P., Ed., The Oxford Illustrated History of the Vikings, 1997.

Wooding, J., The Vikings, 1997.

Wyley, S.F., A Collation of Viking Names, 2000. http://www.geocities.com/svenskildbiter/Viking/viknams3.html [dead link 22 Aug 2020]

Fritzes Kungliga Hovbokhandel., This is Sweden, Stockholm.

[1] Miklagard, a Viking word meaning the “Golden City”, Constantinople, imperial capital of the Byzantine Empire.

[2] The Varangian Guard was the imperial body guard, made up of Vikings, and after 1066, Saxons. Egfroth’s web page: . New Varangian Guard Inc. (a world wide historical re-enactment organisation) www.nvg.org.au

[3] Also well skilled in the arts of dealing death and destruction and not afraid to stain the good clean earth.

[4] Tall and shapely, blond of hair, with penetrating blue eyes. Schooled in the hunt and the classics.

[5] Most people would be shaking in their boots when faced by such a charge. Long axes (or Two handed axes) are used to chop man, even in a mail hauberk (shirt) in two.

[6] Viking’s have thing about luck.

[7] A man’s ghost is said to walk the earth if his body is not securely put under it.

[8] Thorstein is in fact Varin’s cousin, the son of his paternal uncle, Thjazi the Tall. Varin and Thorstein spent many a season a Viking (trading and plundering), Lindisfarne being a good example.

[9] More a hewing spear, with long and wide blade, used for both cutting and thrusting.

[10] Leather straps used to hold the shield by.

[11] Mail shirt, running from elbow to mid thigh, in strong iron riveted rings.

Through the arrow slit.

Dated: May 2008

Summary: a conflict between to empires, where two friends lives are changed for ever when the castle where they live is attached, and an arrow changes their lives and everyone around them.

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Through the arrow slit

- The Siege.

By Stephen Francis Wyley

Written 22nd May 2008

Web Published 19 Dec 2016

Dedication: To Alex Walker, who grew to manhood in the New Varangian Guard and sadly was taken from us by a motor vehicle accident.

My skill in arms came to the notice of the Sergeant of Arms, Ulmere, an ox of a man, with small beady eye set in a large face. Ulmere could beat anyone at wrestling willing to test their skills but only the foolhardy tried. Ulmere’s main skill was his ability to bring the best out in his man with combination of mental, physical training and quite chat every now and then. And so for three years I trained in the skills of a man-at-arms serving on the watch, or on patrol, doing my best to protect the Kingdom from its enemies. I become the equal of those much older and seasoned men than I in the main weapons of our trade, and I clearly surpassed all but two others in the skill of the bow, Roderick of the Castle and Alex the Huntsman. Roderick was about the same age as me, and was castle born and bred and was my best friend and greatest rival in all things. Alex was older but good and stout fellow as could be found, quieter than most but wise in the way of the forest and its denizens.

3. The time before the siege.

In the seventh year at the castle the winter was harsh one with the snow many feet deep in places it was normally only up to your ankle. Willowmere was a fleeting memory but still elicited a warm glow when I had a chance to reminisce about the past. Lissy now filled my dreams; she was a slight girl with long brown hair, the eldest daughter of Yevarna the Cook. On occasion we stole to a quite place, one of the store rooms, or the forest glade to the north for a liaison. We found bliss in each other’s arms and the future was a distance country.

The fodder for the animals was growing in short supply and the elders amongst us could not remember a winter like this. However, the autumn was not welcomed because the King’s messenger brought news that the enemy was planning a Spring offensive and that meant skirmishing along the border, raids into the inner lands and possible battle. Some of us would not see another autumn.

Taneth had hired more staff and among them were two of my brothers Vaness and Wilcom, it was a joy to see them, I had been home to visit on days of the festivities and when our mother was ill but this renewed our bonds of family. Vaness told me the news about Willowmere, she was now married and had moved to the south and now lived in a big townhouse in Icarus, I felt a mixture of jealousy and relief and in the end felt happy for her. Vaness and Wilcom spent their days plying their skill filling the baskets with arrows, enough to turn the sky black when released in a volley.

Ulmere was directed by Xeres the castellan to help prepare the castle for siege (better safe than sorry I thought) and to set watches on the ways leading to the castle. Xeres wanted to demolish some of the houses opposite the barbican but Ulmere said they should not upset the town folk unless it was sure that the enemy was going to attack the castle. There was much to do and there would be time enough to nock down the mainly wooden houses that crowded forward to the barbican from the town before the enemy got to Onna’s dyke, let alone to the castle. Ulmere would regret not taking the more aggressive action later. I, Roderick and those that could be spared were set to clearing the land surrounding the castle of cover and collecting stones and rocks, so we swapped our swords and shields for axes and scythes and cut and burnt the brush for two hundred fifty and five paces from the moat in all directions.

We felt sorry for ourselves thinking that it would be better to be on the watches but when we stopped to watch the poor retches that had to clear the moat of the silt and other debris we knew our lot was not the worst it could be.

When we returned to our beds in the northern tower we could see the value in our work, now we could see clearly the form and shape of the land for a bow shot and more. From our arrow slits we could see the scampering of rabbits in the early morning light and if we were allowed to we could have caught our own breakfast from where we stood.

The impressive King’s army arrived a week later and camped in the field with many colourful bell tents and pavilions to the south of the castle for a week then moved onto Onna’s dyke. We wished them well and hoped that this was just going to be just some more raids, nothing to get worried about.

A week later the news was not good from the border, actually it was the worst imaginable, the refugees streamed in from the outer provinces closer to the dyke. And fortuitously the garrison was re-enforced with two knights, fifty man-at-arms and twenty archers which came from the southern port town of Icarus. Yevarna the cook was not pleased, the provisions would be stretched as it was. We were sent out to gather game from the nearby forest, venison strips drying hung on ranks about the bailey in front of the kitchen because the smoke houses were already full. Water was not a problem because a part of the river was diverted to create the moat and there was a well in the bailey that tapped into the ground water.

The word came to us of the great battle at the site of the old dyke. Onna’s dyke had been built centuries before and these days it only served as the dividing line between us and them. Onna’s dyke ran across the valley that was the easiest route between our two lands. The King had ordered that the dyke be reinforced with towers and palisades, a whole forest had been used to raise this work but it was for naught, the enemy had come. Come in such numbers which were unimaginable and with the ability to send fire flying forwards to burn the King’s recently built towers and palisades. And in the confusion the rank upon rank of the enemy’s troops had poured through the breaches in the dyke.

Now the forces of the enemy could easily march down the valley and out in to the lush and productive country side of our realm. The King and what was left of his army fled eastwards towards us. The town’s folk and more and more refugees pleaded for sanctuary but Xeres the Castellan would not grant it, the supplies would not support such numbers. Some of the refugees fled into the forest to the north hoping to escape the notice of the enemy’s troops and perhaps to plunder the King’s deer herds for food. Other refugees headed south towards Icarus.

Xeres did try and recruit the able bodied man and the older boys from the refugees with enticements of money and secure employment but few having heard the stories of the enemy, or being witness to their pillaging would stay. Those that did stay were handy with axes and bows and little else. They were put to work creating siege works, conical pits with stakes in them called lilia, siege tower traps (holes in the ground covered and re-enforced to take the weight of many men but not a wheel of siege tower high enough to reach the wall tops). The ground on the other side of the river was marshy and so formed another part of the castle’s defensive perimeter. Not much more could be done in preparation.

4. The siege – why are we here?

The King and his following (not much of the army survived the Battle of the Dyke and the subsequent rout) rode across the barbican’s drawbridge, their horses wild eyed and stumbling, stragglers rode in later, some with wounds. Those on horse were better off but for days small groups of men staggered the last leagues to the castle.

As any strategist will tell you “never leave a castle filled with opposition troops on your flank or rear”. Such a force would pose a threat to supply lines, communication and a line of retreat (if needed), and of course the troops inside could sally forth an attack the forces of the enemy at any time, and that could be at the most inopportune moment. Thus the castle had to be taken by storm or siege, at the very least surrounded and subdued.

Arknee the King was impressed with the preparations and praised Xeres and our efforts, we were all filled with pride at our work. The King decided to stay and help defend the castle as it was the most defendable site for leagues around. Messengers on swift horses were dispatched to the west and south to raise forces to attack the enemy in the flank while they were occupied besieging the castle. And hopefully drive them back to where they had come.

The King toured the external works and the walls of the castle and road about the surrounds, and then was ensconced with his advisors, the knights, the castellan and Ulmere. Hours they spent in the keeps inner chamber. Roderick wanted to find out what was going on but we both knew that they were not discussing the current price of barley, which was going up by the way; the price of everything was going up.

Forages we sent hither and thither across the land, collecting fodder, grain, food, and sadly burning any crops that could not be swiftly harvested, there was to be no easy sustenance for our uninvited guests.

Not all the troops of the realm would come to the castle before the enemy’s forces arrived, so those that arrived later could attack the enemy’s flanks and supply lines. The forest would allow ample cover from which to mount such attacks but once out of the foot hill surrounding the castle there would be little or no cover.

The next day our out riders came in with lathered horses bringing news of the enemies advance with sword and flame, the nearby villages were ablaze. My family! I had sent word for them to flee here where they would be safe but no word had reached me and my two brothers. I knew my father would survive the wily old bugger but what of all our other siblings and mother? I had little time to worry over the fate of my family, for we were about to be attacked ourselves. Lissy was frightened but was not leaving for her mum needed her in the kitchen with all these extra mouths to feed. Lissy and I had little time or energy for each other recently and looked like it would be like that for some time to come.

The last of our riders made it inside the barbican and the drawbridge was winched up. Some of the riders were injured and the horses were exhausted, some faltering. The forces of the enemy where sweeping around us in wide arcs with cavalry, chasing down any that stood in their way, giving no quarter. This tactic heralded the slow advance of the main force of the enemy, sturdy and strong infantry in their encompassing armour and large shields. According to the rider I cornered, the infantry was flanked by squads of spearman and archers and behind them came the siege train, full of devices meant for our destruction. Trebuchets and ballistas, timbers and tools to raise siege towers taller than our humble curtain wall. All the more terrifying because I had naught but tales of the grey beards among us to go by.

Later that day a single horseman approached the outer gate of the barbican under the white flag of parley and he was allowed to approach as is the custom.

‘Halt! Come no closer” Xeres cried out.

The mouth piece of the enemy said. ‘Greeting and salutations on this great day, I would have words with the lord in charge of this humble fort.’ Xeres glare down at him from above the barbican and said. ‘I am the castellan of this case and what needs to be said can be said to me.’

‘Good Castellan you and yours may leave and go in peace where ever you want if you surrender to us the personage of your king Arknee.’ Said the mouth piece of the enemy

This was met with roars of abuse from others stationed on the barbican and some forgot the rules of war and arrows were flung at the mouth piece, but their anger made their shots over long and no damage was done but the answer was clear enough.

The mouth piece of the enemy was confident in the army behind him and he did not flinch. He then said. ‘If the castle did not surrender your King in seven days there would be no quarter given to all inside the castle.’

And so he turned his horse and rode slowly back to the growing encampment of the enemy on the southern fields in much the same place where our King and his army camped not to long before.

A troop of enemy cavalry were set to watch our gate while the enemy deployed the troops and set up camp with the main body to the south east. We could see the enemy prowling about the houses of the township in front of the barbican. No attack came. The enemy spent the next two days digging dual lines of ditches and ramparts around their encampment and then extending them around the castle. One set of fortifications facing us, the other facing outwards, to defend against attack. With the enemy’s troops in the houses of the town below the castle Xeres wished he had had those house ripped out of the ground err now and said he was impressed by the professionalism of their siegecraft.

However, on the second night not everything went the enemy’s way. Fires appeared amidst their siege train, the combustibles exploded with thunderous sound and bright flashes. The enemy had thought us trapped behind our stone walls but tunnels excavated long ago were refurbished and used to sneak some of our troops into the encampment where they put their time to good use and when they returned by those same tunnels they collapsed them behind them thus rendering them impassable. The incendiaries used against the fortifications of the dyke were now ablaze and causing havoc among the enemy’s encampment. Fires also appeared among the houses of the township; the enemy’s troops retreated to a safe distance and watch the houses burn. Xeres appeared a bit more relieved to have less cover for the enemy so close to the walls.

5. The siege – the fear.

The initial attacks were made at specific targets to test the strength of the works and the resolve of our defenders. The first attack was against the barbican, this projected from the outwards side of the moat and protecting the drawbridge that crossed the moat. The moat defending the barbican was smaller and shallower but it was still enough to drown a man who could not swim, let alone one in armour.

The enemy moved their infantry towards the barbican behind large shields with archers providing covering fire from behind each rank of the infantry. This arrow fire was intended to keep our archers down behind the merlons. However, our archers had the height advantage and returned fire with devastating effect on the more lightly armoured enemy archers, let alone the infantry. This was added to by the effect of the stones flung from the traction trebuchets on the towers, and the pole slingers on the curtain walls. The stones broke both shield and man and exposed others to more arrow fire. The enemy’s engineer corps was brave as they filled in the lilia (inverted cone shaped pits with sharpened stakes in the bottom). However, the number of enemy was large so in the end they made the edge of the ditch where those in the rear rushed forward and threw their fascines into the moat, slowing filling up the ditch in one spot at the base of the barbicans southern wall. The carnage on the enemy infantry was large but they just kept coming. How can you stop an enemy that is willing to take such losses?

Xeres organized a counter attack, after a huge barrage of arrows, stones and lime pots, the drawbridge was lowered and Ulmere lead a troop of infantry over the drawbridge and draw up in a defensive square in front of the bridge, and after them came the cavalry lead by the two knights. Sir Oliver led his troops to the left flank and Sir Rikner, the right. They attacked those in reach of their spears and swords while the mounted archers added to the carnage, then they turned around before the enemy could make a defence and returned over the bridge without a loss, following them in good order Ulmere brought the infantry troop over the drawbridge, which banged into place behind them. We all let a cheer which resounded across the valley. The enemy had been badly mauled in their first attack but their numbers were not greatly reduced.

Early the next morning, a few hours before dawn, some of people (those that had cleared the moat prior to the attack) slipped out the guichet and brought most of the fascine inside the barbican, so that the toil and loss of life of the enemy was for naught.

And so we all settled down for a siege. The enemy would mount an attack in the morning and we would defend from the walls. When a break in the attack would come we would try to counter attack with cavalry but now there were losses and riderless horses would run around the field or return with the others over the bridge. On the 5th day of the siege the enemy’s cavalry made a direct assault on Ulmere’s troop guarding the drawbridge but Ulmere had prepared his troops well and Taneth had armed them with stout shields and long strong spears. So when the enemy’s cavalry charged Ulmere’s troop did not buckle but planted their spears on the ground and lowered their iron points, the horses were spitted upon the heads and there riders quickly dispatched. Twice they came and twice they left but with much reduced numbers. Xeres called a halt to the sorties to give the cavalry and infantry time to recover.

No attack came on the sixth day and we held our breath for we did not know what to expect. That night, under the cover of a clouded sky and a new moon the enemy’s attack changed in character and effect. We could not see them but we could hear them, there was the pounding of hammers, the neighing of horses, the chopping of wood. Only in the morning light could we see the type of attack planned. In the night by dint of many hands the enemy had built a dam across the arm of the river that feed our moat. Fish and eels struggled in the remains of the water in the moat. We were left high and dry with much diminished defences.

The King seeing this was dismayed and called for a plan to restore the water to the moat. The knights favoured the frontal assault, Ulmere had wanted to mount a multilayered approach and Xeres just wanted see the enemy off. Personally, I had had enough and it had not been a week yet. Ulmere’s persistence and cunning showed through the discussions but this would have to wait till later.

However, the enemy had other plan to go with the dry moat and under early morning light the soldiers of the enemy formed up and marched on to the field before the northern curtain wall. Amidst them were men carrying long ladders, a hazardous attack by escalade was going to be tried. Mantelets were being wheeled forward and squads of archers were spread amid the infantry. There was no place for cavalry in this battle it seemed, they stood in the rear waiting for our cavalry if they made a counter attack from the barbican. Ulmere called down to Taneth. ‘Taneth send up those overgrown forks, I think we will have need of them.’ These two pronged forks on long ash poles were to be used to push the siege ladders off the wall, to fall in the now dry moat and hopefully break the ladders and the men astride the ladder.

Roderick and I stowed away our meagre belongs and opened the boxes of arrows at each of the three arrow slits. We were joined by Alex the Huntsman, who was noted for his skill with bow and boar spear. ‘This is not quite the hunting I am used to,’ said Alex, as here strung his bow. ‘Not many deer carry swords or spears but men bleed and die the same,’ Roderick quipped. More archers were on the top of the tower with the traction trebuchet team. All the pieces were set and we were merely the players. A blast of horns and the enemy’s soldiers bolted for the moat.

Our defenders flung missiles into the air, rocks were slung by soldiers using poleslings and traction trebuchets, arrows and darts were loosed by archers and crossbowmen. The enemy’s soldiers brought their shields up to protect themselves but it was not enough. Many fell under the hail of missiles; rocks broke both shield and man. Arrows and darts pierced armour and the field sprouted the flowers of war. Those that hid behind the mantelets found relative safety. The archers, who had no shields suffered. The rush of the enemy’s troops was only slowed as they reached the edge of the moat because the sides were steep; many tumbled down into the quagmire in the bottom and did not rise again. Our missiles kept up an unceasing rain. The enemy’s archers loosed their arrows at those they could see on the wall tops and some were injured and some were killed. Boris from my village only received an arrow to the arm but stumbled back and fell from the wall walk into the bailey; it was only the roof and the piled fodder in the stables that saved him from certain death. The enemy’s soldiers sloshed through the muddy moat and climbed the other side with difficulty to the berm in front of the curtain wall. And from there they attempted to raise their siege ladders. ‘These warriors show great tenacity, they must hate us muchly!’ I said over my shoulder as I nocked another arrow.

Here in the Northern tower we had a view through three arrow slits. I had been loosing arrow after arrow at the approaching soldiers, making sure each arrow hit its mark, my supplies were running low.

‘More arrows for the Northern tower!’ I called for we were running low and some water would be appreciated. One of the boys from the armoury appeared with a few bundles of arrows. ‘What about some water for this is thirsty work?’ I said. ‘Someone else is bringin’ the water sir’, the boy replied.

Roderick and Alex were stationed to my left and right respectively and they had to wait until the enemy’s soldiers had reached the berm. Then Roderick and Alex could reach a target at the base of the next tower in Roderick’s case and the gatehouse in the case of Alex, and archers in the corresponding towers could do the converse, thus creating a deadly crossfire and reducing the amount of dead ground (an area around a fortification that cannot be reached by a defenders weapons). When the enemy’s soldiers scrambled up and over the edge Alex and Roderick started loosing their arrows. The enemy’s soldiers shields could not offer complete protection, missiles where coming from the wall top above and the towers and gatehouse at the ends of the curtain walls. With all this happening the enemy’s soldiers still managed to raise a number of the siege ladders. The tops of the siege ladders were crafted to span the width of the crenel, with the last rung just at the base of the crenel, someone knew their siegecraft. However, along the wall walk teams of men were ready with the long forks prepared by Taneth. When a ladder reached the wall top or sometimes before a long fork was put in place and the top rung was caught in the fork and then our men would push the ladder back, once past vertical the ladder, with men on the ladder would topple into the moat, a broken jumble of men, arms, armour and ladder would be the outcome. Once a ladder could not be repelled in time and the enemy’s soldiers reached the wall top the fight with hand weapons occurred but the pressure over only one ladder reaching the wall top was not enough. Sir Oliver speared the first to reach the parapet and he toppled off the ladder, taking some of the others on the ladder down with him, into the moat, the ladder was then pushed over into the moat. Ulmere, stood at the centre of the curtain wall, when another ladder reached a crenel in front of him he swept up his two handed axe and cleaved the helm and head in twain of the first to raised themselves above the height of base of the crenel. The fight looked like it could go either way. The moat, berm and the field leading to the moat was covered with dead and dying. Walking wounded and those unhurt were fleeing the carnage.

A great horn blast was heard from the enemy’s encampment. There was a collective sigh of relief, I looked down from my arrow slit at the slaughter and felt sad for these were man just like us, they lived their lives in similar circumstances and yet they were intent on killing us, and what for? Just the territorial gain of their king and nobles, plunder, or for pay and adventure?

A boy, Warwick I think was his name, with water bottles slung over his shoulders puffed up the stairs and handed three to us. Wearily he trudged up to the tower apex with more water to distribute. By the end of this Warwick would be far fitter than he was or he would be dead.

That night the King agreed it was time for Ulmere’s plan to be put in place. I led a troop of archers and infantry, including Roderick and Alex, set out by another secret way to come out on to the north, beyond the dam. At a ford, seldom used these days, we crossed the river and waited. A small group dressed in black was sent to the south to infiltrate the encampment and cause havoc. Before the alarm in the enemy’s encampment was raised we moved forward to a point where we were across the river from those set to guard the dam, a small force similar to my own, clearly shown by their camp fires. Someone had made an error of judgment to allow such fires, they would rue that decision. I sent some of the infantry into the moat, when they reached just below the edge of the moat. I gave the order for the archers to let loose there arrows and I joined the culling. A tall man in impressive armour emerged from a wedge tent in the centre of their encampment, I took aim and loosed, the arrow sped to the target and the long bodkin pieced his breast plate, mail and gambeson, he must have been their leader for there was a cry from his man as fell back and knocked over his tent. Little did I know what I had succeeded in doing? Our infantry then burst from the moat and drove the rest away to the east, setting fires as they went. While this was happening our infiltrators entered the main encampment, killed quietly, set fire to stores, let loose horses, thus raised havoc.

These attacks were not the objective of the night’s activities. Another force issued forth from the

guichet and down into the moat, and from there to the base of the dam. These men were armed with axes and once at the dam proceeded to weld them willingly. Before they had cut all the way through there was movement in the timbers and water gushed into the moat. Our axmen scrambled from the moat to the berm before the wall and watched the results of their handy work with heaving chests. A central timber gave way and the water flooded in, other timbers followed and again we had a water filled moat. This inundation helped clear the moat of some of the dross left there from the days fighting but the smell lingered until well after the heavy winter rains came.

We all returned safely to the castle, only the infiltrators had losses with only half them returning. The King ensured that their families were well compensated for those that did not return.

The next day the enemy’s encampment was in an uproar. We thought it was because our men had easily infiltrated their encampment and killed or set loose so many of the cavalry’s horses, let alone our success with breaking the dam and returning our moat to a wetter condition.

A herald with a white banner approached the barbican seeking an audience with the King. As a herald is inviolate to abuse, especially while travelling under such a banner he was given safe passage to the rooms above the barbican gate. Ulmere would not let him further for the herald would see too much of our works and the placement of our soldiers.

The King fearing treachery (even from a herald) sent Xeres dressed in his court attire to the meeting. The herald was most courteous to Xeres and passed on the message from his King in a seemly manner but the message itself was terrible in nature.

‘Your Majesty has put up a stout defence of this castle but you are surrounded by a much superior army with the supplies, men and the will to destroy you utterly or simply starve you into submission. If you surrender, you, your court and all those here will be allowed to leave with everything they can carry. All accept one that is; there is an archer among you, a cur, a murderer, who will face the wrath of my most noble king. For with one arrow last night he has brought great hurt to our realm and the King, for the only son of our gracious king now lies dying and will not live to see another sun rise!’ the herald said.

Xeres hid his pleasure at this news and replied with equal politeness. ‘Most dutiful herald please pass on my sincerest condolences to my brother King. It is however a part of war that men die and since this is a war not of my making I am in the position where right is on my side. I do admit your majesty’s forces do closely invest this castle but how it will end I do not know so the outcome of the siege still hangs in the balance. Return in an hour and I will give you my decision of your majesty’s most gracious offer.’

With this the herald returned to the enemy’s encampment to be interrogated by their king, Xeres returned across the drawbridge to the gatehouse to meet with the King and the advisors. The King was pleased with Xeres’ performance and paused to think on the ramifications of surrender. No word had reached us as to the fate of the relieving forces requested the week before. When the King returned to the table he asked for options. Sir Oliver agreed with Xeres and Ulmere on not surrendering; only Sir Rikner would have us surrender and withdraw to the capital which was more defendable and better supplied. The King drew Xeres aside and gave him his instructions.

On the hour the appointed enemy’s herald returned and was swiftly ushered to the not so regal presence of Xeres, still in his majesty’s royal attire.

The herald was impatient to hear the decision. ‘Your most royal majesty have you come to a decision on your future and that of those here in this castle?’

Xeres replied with equal courtesy. ‘Good herald I have and I am sorely affronted by the unwarranted attack on my realm by your majesty’s army and call on his majesty to break off this siege, leave my realm immediately and pay compensation for all the killing and damage done to my realm. As to the archer you spoke of earlier it is my decree that he will be raised up to noble status and given land and title as a just reward for doing his duty in protecting my realm. Depart and take that message to your master.” The herald was filled with feelings of vexation and strode from the barbican to his horse.

According to reports gained later the enemy’s King was enraged when he heard our good King’s reply.

We had defeated two major attacks and badly wounded his only son, to the point of death. His plans were not coming to fruition as planned.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Little did the enemy King or we know that a third party was about to join in and take a hand in our destiny. The relief force, under the command of Sir Hector, long sought for, was getting closer. Sir Hector had sent rangers ahead to spy the way ahead. The relief force was encamped in the old bailey of a castle long since abandoned only two days ride away awaiting news of what lay ahead and if the castle was still in the hands of our king.

………………………………………………………………………………………

To answer the refusal of terms the enemy began to construct a malvoisin (a mound of earth, raised up to opposed a castle, cutting off supply routes and allowing closer investment) opposing the barbican. This field work would allow the enemy to restrict access to the castle and give them a better platform for their own artillery. We harassed them as much as we could from behind our walls but the work continued for a week. Our food was now rationed but the wells were now back up to previous levels so water was not an issue. Brother Michael tended the wounded in the infirmary and many recovered to the point of being of some use, if not returning to their previous duties. Only Boris was truly ill, his arm was healing well but his legs were another matter.

I speculated with Xeres on top of the northern tower about the direction of the enemy’s battle plans. ‘Xeres I think they plan to blockade us and starve us’, I said. ‘They have not closed all our routes of egress and we have access to the forest for food and the river for water, they will not starve us out. No, that malvoisin is to attack us directly, mark my word,’ Xeres replied. I was not so sure as my stomach made its feelings felt.

And true enough the enemy fortified the malvoisin with a ditch and palisade and mounted a huge counterpoise trebuchet on its apex and then the bombardment commenced. The first stone flung by the trebuchet flew high into the air and over the walls and crashed into the bailey, bounced and rolled and smashed the smoke house on the opposite wall. Many were dismayed by this; some even went and hid in the cellars. Ulmere and Xeres went to the barbican to check on the defences when this happened. The next shot was shorter and hit the front of the gatehouse. The enemy’s engineers must have decreased the weight in the counter weight. The next stone was even shorter and it hit the tower of the barbican where Ulmere and Xeres were standing, the merlons shattered with concussive force of the blow and Ulmere and Xeres were showered with shards of stone. The soldiers in the barbican rushed up the stairs to find Xeres coughing, bleeding but alive. In the opposing corner was Ulmere’s body pale and limp, he was going to be missed.

With Ulmere’s passing I was promoted and took on the role of Sergeant at Arms. I did not know what to feel. I was saddened by the loss of such a great man, my tutor, someone who I admired greatly. There was also the feeling of rapture of achieving advancement so quickly but that was war. And then there was feelings of trepidation, would I be able to do the job, what if I failed?

6. Fighting two fronts

The bombardment was kept up for days now, the barbican was not looking good, the south-western tower was a shambles. The enemy had sent waves of attackers through the ditch and over the crumbling remains to be greeted by a second line of defences hastily constructed in timber, earth and stone running from curtain wall to curtain wall. The enemy may have breached the walls of the barbican but they had not taken it.

The tolls were heavy on both sides and disease was rearing its ugly head. The supplies of medical herbs were running low but they could not fix broken limbs or shattered spirits.

At night we sent out teams of men to collect arrows, bolts and rocks to help supplement our supplies. It was a job for hardy souls who did not care about what they were clambering over. We also sent out small teams to harass the enemy at their fires and to attack their supply trains. Alex the huntsman was foremost in this endeavour and sometimes they did not make it back to the castle but took refuge in the forest.

We did not know what effect we were having but we knew that if aid did not come soon we would not see the start of summer.

According to Alex during the fourth day of the bombardment he and his hunters were in the foot hills of the Great Dividing Range watching the road leading to the east. A group of riders were seen galloping up the Eastern road as if demons were on their tail. Alex gave the order and they drew and loosened their arrows and took the riders from their saddles. When the riders were searched among their possessions each had a scroll, probably in case they met with a mishap on the way that contained a message for the second in command far to the east.

In the counsel chamber I now sat and heard the message read out to those assembled. Xeres read the message, ‘From his royal majesty, Hermis, King of the realm of Jamyon, most noble Lord of the lands of the east, etc., etc. To Simion, Chancellor of the realm of Jamyon, the attack on the western heathens is going well, after the great victory of the Dyke of Onnis we have carried all before us and press hard against the stronghold deep in the territory of our enemy. It is with anticipation of another great victory they I now order the sending of the second contingent of our troops with extra supplies for the siege train for the assault on the much fortified capital of the barbarian. Signed his most royal majesty, Hermis, most noble Lord of the lands of the east, etc., etc.’

King Arknee took a deep breath and let it go slowly, he looked at those spread about the table and said, ‘We are lucky to have intercepted this missive, Alex and his huntsmen must be praised. Seth, see that we have round the clock surveillance on the Eastern road.’

‘Yes my King’, I responded and started to count in my head those we had available. We would need a base of operations outside the castle walls.

King Arknee then looked along the table to Xeres, ‘Xeres how are the supplies and can we continue to hold the barbican?’

‘Your majesty’, Xeres began with a voice that showed he had not slept well these last weeks. ‘Our supplies will hold out for about a week, the game around the castle is much reduced, there is still fish in the river but that will not feed all the mouths contained in these walls’. With a hesitation as to take time for some thought Xeres continued. ‘The barbican has served us well; it would a shame to see it go to the enemy easily. However, with the south-western tower gone and we are hard pressed to defend the retrenchment. The bombardment from the enemy’s trebuchet continues to add to our woes, many of our dead and injured are results of the trebuchet’s missiles. If we could stop the bombardment we could survive until relief arrives…’

No word had reached us of the whereabouts of the relief forces and time, supplies and moral was running out.

‘What no news from our watches sent toward south to Sutch or along the Eastern road,’ King Arknee said with some exasperation. With some trepidation I answered the question for it was one of my new duties to coordinate those working outside the walls of the castle. ‘Your majesty knows we have men based at Merel’s spring on the far side of Watch Hill that has views to both the south and the west. No sign, rider or otherwise have reached them yet when I last checked.’

The King then looked at each of us to test our resolve and said. ‘Then we must do a number of things, firstly we must make the enemy’s taking of the barbican a costly one and then fall back to the main castle. Secondly, we must seek news of the relieving force, for without their support we will have to surrender or escape. And since we cannot all hope to escape then we shall stay until the bitter end, come what may!’

That night I sent Roderick out with orders for those at Merel’s spring to actively seek out the relieving force and to bring back news. Roderick himself was to go down the Southern road to Sutch to find what was happening there, luckily for him there were horses available. I also saw to the forces sent to harass and hinder the enemy from flanks. Only those fleet of foot and wise in the ways of wild were sent. My brothers, Vaness and Wilcom sought me out for they wish to fight, and there were no more materials to make arrows, so I sent them out to join Alex the Huntsmen. Before they left I had news reach me that enemy forces had been heading north searching for supplies, the news also brought news to me and my brothers, our family and many others had found sanctuary in the caves of Silva’s, deep in the northern forests. Such a relief was much yearned for and now we all rejoiced and I could concentrate our thoughts to the duties at hand.

In the morning I and Xeres organised the defence of the barbican. A token force of archers and slingers manned the walls and towers of the barbican. Combustibles, pitch and oil was spread about the barbican, so that when lit the whole place would erupt in flames. Hopefully, the enemy would not use fire before we had a chance to. In the early morning light the troops of the enemy lined up, infantry, archers, and cavalry in the rear. After a great horn blast with mantelets pushed to the fore they surged forward aiming for the breach in the barbican’s defences. With only a token force the enemy’s troops soon reached the ditch, scaled the tumbled remains of the corner tower. They were met by hail of rock, dart and arrow but they still surged forward to the retrenchment, there they used ladders to scale the wall. Our men made a staggered withdrawal, loosing missiles at the enemy in turn. Until, I and a few others had reached the towers of the inner gate of the barbican. I gave the order for the torches to be thrown as the enemy’s troops filled the courtyard of the barbican and clambered along the curtain walls. Fire took hold of what we set and it roared up the towers and swept through the courtyard. We then left the towers by ropes, having left the inner gates firmly secured from outside and in, and scuttled across the second drawbridge to the castle, entering the guichet in the main gate.

I am glad I did not watch what happened next. Many of the enemy’s troops in the barbican perished in the flames, most were affected by the smoke, however, many more died in the crush to get out of the barbican by the breach in the south-western tower, trampling those who had been trying to get in a moment before. As I watched the smoke and flames billowed into the sky, watched as men flung themselves into the moat to escape and not surface. I turned to Xeres. ‘My heart is sick of such carnage’, feeling truly nauseous. Xeres could only agree, ‘Young Seth, what you and the men did this day was to save many more lives. Without such carnage the forces of the enemy would already be at the gates of the capital and we would be long dead’. I put my thoughts of regurgitation aside and saw to my men. Some of those that volunteered for duty in the barbican’s defence did not make it across the bridge and I had trouble recalling all their names. Of those that made it to the castle some were wounded, the rest were just happy to be alive and to have an empiric victory. The enemy would have thought they had made great inroads in taking the barbican when they overran the defences but it had cost them dearly. The fire burned the rest of the day and it was hot for another day.

During the night a messenger arrived tired and dirty and was quickly ushered in the council chamber. I did not recognise the messenger and this raised my hopes. The council gathered with an air of anticipation and then the King arrived looking a bit haggard. I guess we all looked a bit that way, long days, longer nights, sleep snatched where we could.

Miles was rangy in stature but when he spoke you could hear his nobleness shining through. ‘Your Majesty and noble lords of the realm I am the bearer of good news. Sir Hector is encamped but two days ride to the west and has sent me and others out to discover the lay of the land and the tidings of the siege. What news should I take back to Sir Hector? Is the castle lost or is the enemy ready to raise the siege and flee back whence they came?’

The King replied, ‘Good Ranger, we are most delighted to hear such news. We have been sorely beset, rations are running low, the barbican is laid waste and smoulders still. The enemy’s trebuchet mounted on the malvoisin does rain rocks and other items down upon us. Yet our hunters and foresters hold the sway in the forest and few pass to or from the east and we have rebuffed many attacks these last weeks but we cannot hold out for every, and the site of Sir Hector’s relief force will bring joy to our people and woe to the enemy. How many men do come with Sir Hector and how are they armed?’

‘Your Majesty, in round numbers, five thousand infantry, one thousand archers, two hundred slingers and two thousand cavalry have come from the capital and are encamped with Sir Hector now. A smaller force still awaits the enemy at the capital. More join from other parts of the realm but they are less in number and various in type; miner folk from the silver mines, fisher folk from the Mere of Iskybibel, Foresters from the Great Northern Forests, all keen to see the enemy off,‘ Miles replied. He added that, ‘Alas there is no news from Sutch or let alone Icarus’.

Long was the night and deep were the discussions. Retreat was now not considered and a counter attack was planned, a pincer movement to use a ferrier’s term. In two days time Sir Hector’s forces would arrive and skirt the castle by ways know to us and thus come unseen, avoiding the force across the Eastern road, and come out north and south of the enemy’s siege works. The timing would have to be right but two more days would seem like a lifetime behind these battered stone walls.

The week before we could hear their construction, then they began to rise above the enemies encampment. The siege towers stood taller than any tree of the great northern forest and they would be used to clear and attack the wall tops. Yet they still needed to cross the moat.

In the morning light the enemy’s plan became clear. The bombardment from the trebuchet continued and concentrated on the wall tops and towers defending the south eastern curtain wall. We could not slow their work sufficiently. Their infantry did not attack us directly but they worked to fill the moat with rocks, earth and bundles of wood, anything that came to hand. Slowly but surely they worked and by the end of the day two ramps extended all the way to the berm below the curtain wall. The next day was when either they would breach the walls and the relieving force would strike such a blow that we would be free.

The enemy did not sleep this night, with the billowing of oxen and the creak of wooden wheels the two siege towers inched their way from the encampment towards the curtain wall. Such dread I have never felt and hope lay lost among the thoughts of what more could I do to stave off this attack. I knew our relieving force was taking the longer route to come at the enemy unawares but would they be too late?

Somewhere out there Alex was preparing to attack the southern flanks of the enemy with his band of huntsmen and foresters, and assorted volunteers, my brothers included. These men had lots of bravery, their bows and arrows, some hand weapons and not much armour. At best they would be a distraction, maybe enough to help tip the scales in our favour. This might just work… I could but hope.

And what had become of Roderick. No news was not always good news as they say. Any forces from the south would help but no one from Sutch or even Icarus had reached us.

This morning was chill and mist hung over the valley, our breaths steamed from our mouths as we stamped our feet to bring back some feeling. Autumn was upon us. The noise from below only increased as the siege towers swayed as they marched across the field. The tower to the west, closer to the southern tower was closer, having the shorter distance to travel, was within twenty paces of the moat when one of the swaying motions did not correct itself. Something had happened, there were cries of dismay from those brave enough (or foolhardy) to ride in the top of the tower as they were slung against the side of the tower. The pots! The pots had worked and the front wheel of the tower sank ever deeper into the hole once housing the clay pot and slowly, yet faster and faster the siege tower fell forwards and sideways to its doom, along with those that rode in her. It ended with a thunderous crash which shook the walls under our feet. We cheered and cheered for we were alive and the tower was no more without any loss of life among us.

There was confusion in the enemy’s ranks. Was their moral beginning to break? We had resisted their attack after attack. I had killed the enemy King’s son. We had inflicted huge losses to their man power, stores and morale. The hunters had made the forests a no go zone for the enemy’s troops. If only we could survive out this day, then all would… Would be over…!

An officer, set apart by his finery, had stopped the remaining tower and had teams of men digging up the ground along the route the tower would take. They eventually found all our pots, and made a road way of planks just in case. Two large logs had been driven into the ground on either side of the ramp and the oxen, that had become a target for our archers where moved out of range and hooked up to ropes looped around these logs and thus by moving away they drew the siege tower closer to us.

We opposed them with everything we had. Their trebuchet still lobed rocks at us standing on top of the curtain wall from behind us and archers in top of the siege tower shot arrows at us. No sooner had we cleared those in the top of the tower more would take their place having climbed the tower from the field below.

Midday had come and gone. I felt sick, tired, bruised (my helm was dented from a small rock hitting it) and I had run out of arrows again. Where was Sir Hector or Alex?

My thoughts were answered by a burst of flames from the tents of the encampment. And then a great horn blew out from the north east. The enemy’s soldiers hesitated as did we, that was not the sound made by the enemy’s horns. Sir Hector, astride is great black horse lead forth his troops and arrayed them below the edge of the forest, a grand sight indeed. We let out another ragged cheer. My dry throat could not more than croak.

Again the enemy’s troops stood and stared in dismay. I was sure they were all thinking ‘Where had these troops come from and how did they get behind us like that when we controlled the routes to all points of the compass?’ The Enemy King made a decision to attack Sir Hectors troops then return to the attack on the castle. It was a rash decision, ill-conceived but very brave.

Sir Hector had the slingers and archers move to the flanks and the infantry held the centre. The cavalry moved to the rear. The slope was rocky and not well grassed but not impassable. They were set when the first wave of the enemy’s cavalry made their rush up the hill. This was met with a hail of rock and arrow and proved to be deadly. The cavalry withdrew to the remains of the town where their King watched fuming. The enemy’s infantry formed up, not in the numbers and orderliness when they first arrived but there was still a good ten thousand of them or more. They marched forward to the slope and kept going under the hail of rock and arrow, many finding their mark. And with a roar they reached Sir Hector’s infantry and such a clash of arms and armour echoed around and around the valley. Sir Hector’s troops had not been fighting a siege for weeks so were the fresher and had the advantage of the slope but still they were hard pressed.

Sir Hector’s archers and slingers were moved forward and attacked the flanks of the enemy with a withering fire but would this be enough?

Our King, let alone the rest of us could stand it now longer. The King had the horns sounded and with the remaining troops left the protection of the walls and went to join the battle. We did not get so far before the enemy King saw us. Our cavalry or what was left of it could not cross the moat and so we were a foot and were vulnerable. So instead of joining the battle at the edge of the forest we had our own battle on our hands. With long spears, bows, arrows, swords and other various polearms in hand we changed direction for the position of the enemy King and his cavalry.

In the ground before the Malvoisin we made our stand in a rough square formation as the enemy King himself lead the charge of cavalry. They thundered towards us with their lances pointing at us, the ground shook beneath our feet, it was unnerving. We loosed arrows at them; horses screamed and took their riders down with them and then the shock of cavalry hitting our formation. The front rows dissolved into confusions. The enemy’s King threw down his broken lance and drew his sword and began to strike downwards at those around him. His horse stumbled and fell screaming from a gaping wound in its belly from a great axe. The enemy King was tossed sideways out the saddle on top of the writhing masses and disappeared from my view.

I was told latter that when Sir Hector had seen the cavalry charge he had done the same against the rear of the enemy’s infantry, and that had won the day on the slope. The enemy’s infantry broke and ran eastwards.

However, we were still beset with foes trying to reach their downed King. They fought with such determination we had to fall back towards the Malvoisin. Then with a shout and hail of arrows Alex and his man emerged from the remains of the town and attacked the enemy’s rear. Combined we could have seen them off. Dazed and helmless the enemy’s King called for quarter, among the din his voice was almost lost. I heard his call and raised him up and called for those of the enemy to surrender, for their King had called for quarter and the bloodshed must come to an end.

Sir Hector joined the milling group and took charge of the enemy King. Our King ordered messages to be sent to the fleeing troops that quarter would be given and so some order would be restored. The wounded were tended; the dead buried in the ditch surrounding the enemy’s encampment, the line of the ditch can still be seen to this today where the grass grows greenest. We took off our helms, drank and ate. I did not sing and dance like some of the others. My brother Wilcom had died in the final battle and I was not looking forward to telling my parents that news. Our King toured the Malvoisin and arranged for the trebuchet to be sent back to the capital. That night a feast was held in the great chamber of the keep and the enemy’s King sat at the table with our King. What injustice was this!

During the feast a messenger arrived from the south. There had been a battle outside Sutch! A detachment of the enemy’s troops had continued on unknown to us and had decided to attach the town of Sutch. The town of Sutch has a poor excuse for fortified walls and the ditch was not as deep as it should. Roderick had arrived from the north in time to join the locals and some troops from Icarus in the defence of Sutch. The battle was not great or memorable in itself but my great friend Roderick excelled himself and even saved the life of the Lord of Sutch. In the end the enemy’s troops were driven off with only small losses. The Lord of Sutch sent a troop of cavalry to follow the departing enemy cavalry and determine what had happened at the castle further north.

I would have given my weeks wagers to see the faces on the enemy’s cavalry when they came upon the castle and found their camp is disarray and our troops and theirs burying the dead. When they came in shouting range they were told the outcome and then they kept going eastwards not willing to lend a hand. News would reach the east with these riders, these pictures in their minds and their tales would hopefully deter other such attacks for generations to come.

Roderick had accompanied the cavalry north as guide and our joy on seeing each other was great because we had survived relatively unscathed. Roderick would have trouble pulling a bow again because now lacked a few fingers on his string hand but other things were in store for him.

Xeres was kept very busy organising teams of men to dismantle the malvoisin, clear the town site of debris, cleaning up the barbican, and dismantling the trebuchet ready for dispatch to the capital. Alex and his men with support of Miles escorted the remaining troops to the frontier and set up a watch at Onna’s dyke.

Xeres sent me north to spread the word of our victory and ascertain the damages to the villages and their folk. All was disserted and I pressed on to the Cave of Silvas, there I found many that had fled the enemy’s troops and my family. Again I cried with my parents and siblings, thanking the gods for their survival. I told them about brave Wilco, and how he fell, and all about the siege of the castle and that reparations would be paid. Our good King would see to it that the village would be repaired and life returned to normal. When I left I said I would arrange for stores to be sent from the castle, hopefully there would be enough to spare.

After giving my report to Xeres on my return I sought out Roderick who was overseeing the cleanup of the barbican, he was standing in the barbican gatehouse where Ulmere had died and he winced when I whacked him on the shoulder. ‘Sorry Roderick, I forgot, does it still ache?’ I said as I moved to stand beside him. ‘Yes of course it does and I will never draw a bow again. What is to become of me Seth? Shall I never loose arrows through the arrow slits in the northern tower again?’ What could I

say, I agreed, there would be some other job found for Roderick but it would not involve archery.

‘Dear Roderick’ I started, ‘There is much to be done to repair the damage, to rebuild, to restart lives and livelihoods of all those affected by the war and someone must aid that”, I said confidently. I still did not know what the future held for me, let alone Roderick.

Two days later the King sent most of his troops back west with those wounded safe enough to transport. With the troops remaining Sir Hector was sent off to Onna’s Dyke to rebuild the defences. I heard Sir Hector grumbling into his beard about stone quality and the cost of lime, and retirement before he left.

7. The future.

Our King Arknee called a great council to discuss matters of state and a great feast and other festivities were planned for the coming week. Lords and ladies, dignitaries and gaggles of retainers arrived and filled all the spaces available. Pavilions were set up in the fields surrounding the castle. Yevarna the cook was overwhelmed and harassed Xeres for more assistance.

Roderick and I were kept busy with our duties and so did not attend the great council but according to Xeres there was much talk of ransom and reparations for there was much death and damage done and we still had the enemy’s King as an honoured guest. Money and material was needed for the rebuilding the defences of Onna’s dyke, the castle (especially the barbican), rebuilding of the town below the castle, let alone the villages nearby that were ravaged. There was no rest for the old warhorse Sir Hector, he was made ‘Lord of the Frontier’ and was given the job which he already had of overseeing the strengthening of Onna’s Dyke. More things were discussed but Xeres was vague.

The enemy king agreed to the terms and sent messages with his royal seal to his treasurer. The money for ransom and reparations would be paid in a week. With the great council concluded a holiday was declared and a great festival and feast was held.

Roderick and I sat at the tables along the side of the great hall in new tunics and hose for we were heroes. With us were Miles and Alex, looking uncomfortable in their new attire. Yevarna and her troop of kitchen staff brought out food until the boards groaned under the weight, musicians played, jugglers juggled, and the young got up and danced. Roderick, his hand still bandaged was dragged from our bench by the daughter of the Lord of Sutch. I too was swept up by a long haired beauty from the capital. I had never danced before but I did my best. With much drink, cheer and joy we relaxed and enjoyed the fruits of a labour.

When the food was done Xeres called for order and we took our seats reluctantly. Our King Arknee stood and gave a speech. ‘My lords and ladies, honoured guests, let us give thanks to the gods for this day. A day that will be remembered as a day of celebration of the great victory over the troops of the enemy. A day where we give thanks to those who faced an overwhelming foe and who stood defiant, and after a great struggle with the great support of Sir Hector and his relieving force, achieved a stunning victory. Without this victory I am sure the enemy’s troops would be battering at the walls of the capital. Never have so few done some much for the nation’. The King raised his cup and shouted “To victory!” We all scrambled to our feet (except Boris who could no longer stand unaided) and raised our cups in turn and returned the toast. We roared ‘TO VICTORY!!’

The King waited for din to quieten and he raised his hand, silence fell across the hall. ‘I have not done yet with the speeches. As King I am saddened by the losses we have suffered and I will do my best to see that all is made right. As King I am also empowered to give rewards for service. At the great council there were reports given about the conduct of this siege and the many battles and those that had a hand in them. I am proud of all of you who have achieved so much in these past weeks, without you the kingdom would have been overrun. The fallen shall be remembered, the defences shall be rebuilt stronger than before, and the towns and villages shall be renewed.’ The king scanned the hall and said. ‘It is time to make some awards for those of meritorious service. Sir Hector is elevated to the rank of lord of the realm with the title of Lord of the Frontier.’ We all cheered for it was a good choice even though I knew he wanted to retire. The King again raised his hand for silence. ‘Next is Xeres the castellan. Without your expertise, cunning and organizational skill we would not be here now, you are too granted the title of lordship and you shall be the Lord of the castle’. Such a move was not expected and we roared with gusto and drank our fill. The king was not done yet. For services in the field Alex the hunter was elevated the King’s Master of the Hunt (the previous master died the year before after being gnawed by a wounded boar). Alex was like a deer not sure whether to stand very still or flee through the forest. Miles whacked him on the back, and more cheers were shouted.

The Lord of Sutch and the Lord of the Frontier joined the King in front of the high table. The King called forth Roderick and Seth of the Castle. We both sat still not know what was happening. Alex gave us both a swift kick under the table and we struggled to our feet and made our way to before the king.

The king said ‘These two young men have served the realm with excellence and honour, without their contributions it is unlikely we would be here now. Both of these men are not of noble birth but are indeed noble, therefore it my privilege to announce the following. Roderick of the Castle you shall be made a knight of the realm and shall serve under the Lord of Sutch. Seth of the Castle, you shall also be made a knight of the realm and shall serve under the Lord of the Frontier. Kneel.’

We slowly knelt before the king and here dubbed us before all the present. And our respective lords raised us up and shook our hands. Roderick and I looked at each other and we let out a yell of ecstatic joy. We were KNIGHTS!

Again the hall was filled with cheers which rang in our ears. Xeres and Taneth were first to congratulate me. I was happy and sad in the same moment. I wish my parents and siblings were here to see this, they would not believe it. My life was about to take another turn. What did the future hold? As Taneth was want to say “each journey begins with a first step”.

Our cups were ever full and the musicians played late into the night. Roderick disappeared surprisingly early. I sat talked and drank with Miles and Alex until very late. Tomorrow was another day, as I took my leave I just hoped I could find my way back to the Northern tower to find my bed.

Map of the Realm

Map of the Castle and surrounding lands

Map of the Castle

The Siege - 2017 Version

Dated - 07 /2/ 2017

Summary: follows the exploits of two sets of friends on either side of a seige of a ring fort, a fort that need to be taken to assist in the expansion of Lord Rodmar empire...

Link to Download a PDF Version

The Siege - 2017 Version

by Stephen Francis Wyley

Written 5/2/2017 - 2017 Version

Web Published 07 Feb 2017

Dedication: To my friends who encouraged me to dream, to write and to bring everyone who reads this story along for a ride, a wild ride.

There was a sheep bleating on the hillside overlooking a sandy bay, the wind whipped through the long grass, as men in armour walked in single file along an overgrown stony path.

The Fort

The ringfort stood out from the surrounding landscape, guarding the way up to the lush valleys, forested hillsides and the mines. The freshly cut ditch and rampart was a scar on the green field. The building works were still going on, the gatehouse and walls still needed to be finished. The wooden palisade was incomplete and the gatehouse, meant for accommodation for the Lord Rodmar and his retinue had gaps in the walls that let the weather in.

Lord Rodmar had been tasked by his overlord Ketill the Roarer to build a ringfort close to the western border and put a stop the raids of the enemy. The lords efforts were stemmed for there was limited stone for building and the available wood did not grow straight and true.

Behind the protective walls Bjorn the blacksmith was making nails, rivets and washers in the lean-to against the eastern side of the ringfort. Next to Bjorn was Bjarni the fletcher making arrows. Katra sits by the gate and sharpens her already sharp spear head. And on the western side of the ring fort Halla the cook, with long black hair, and curves in the best places, was making a pork stew, again.

The ringfort resounded to the noise of the young ones yelling and laughing as they ran wild over and around the ringfort

showing off their skills with javelins, bows and arrows, or just wrestled in the mud.

Two bearded warriors shared the cooking fire and grumbled about the the shelter, the food and the readiness of the new fort. Ulf and Sverting had known each other since they too had wrestled in the mud, in a now distance village. Ulf was of medium of size but hardy and swift. While Sverting was bigger but not the biggest at the ringfort, and with stories to match his many scars.

Ulf sighed, rubbing his knee, the arrow wound always ached. “I am getting too old for this sort of thing.”

“Old, Old? You are younger than I am, you daft tit!.” Sverting retorted.

“Well I feel old, my knee aches in the cold and I can’t see as good as I used to.” Ulf complained.

“You may be thirty or so winters but you still have got a decade or two in ya.”.Sverting said.

“If that’s the case I better survive this next battle then. Halla’s been giving me the wink and nudge, and an extra helping of stew…” Ulf said and winked at Sverting, then turned and looked longing towards the steaming cauldron and the smiling Halla.

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The Camp

The enemy set up their camp in an old earthen enclosure down the valley, which had an embankment and ditch which should provide some protection against attack. And more fighters march in. Tents and lean to’s sprang up, fires where lit, and food was prepared.

In a big tent in the centre of the encampment Lord William Finehaired was meeting his leaders and discussed the strategy for the attack, it should be simple enough, the fort is not finished, and there were not enough defenders.

Igor and Hrothgar saw each other between a gap in the tents, roared at each other, hug and then sit down under one of the tents, swap news, share a drink and boast of spoils to come. Igor is large, very large and is stubborn as an ox. Hrothgar the Red, is slight, fast and fighting to behold in his berserk frenzy.

Igor was sitting on the ground by the fire sharping a new curved sabre, admiring its fine lines and good steel.

“Hrothgar, what makes a man so crazy that he is willing to kill another man?” Igor asked.

Hrothgar pauses chewing on a mutton bone and thinks about Igor’s question.

“It is not a craze, it is fear, fear of dying, and if the other man dies, it means it’s not you dying, so that fear turns to joy. And in a battle, a man feelings move from fear to joy to fear again in rapid succession, until he dies or the battle is won, or in your case he runs away to fight another day with a new sabre.” Hrothar answered, choosing his words carefully like monk decorating an initial in a manuscript.

“It is a good sabre…, it will play its’ part well.” Igor replied with an evil grin as he inspected the blade.

“We all play our part in this divine comedy called life, which brings another day above ground, breathing, eating, drinking, singing and fornicating. And soon we will have to do it again. I had a quick look at the works the Lord Rodmar has erected yesterday, they are crude, the ditch is deep and wide and ramparts tall but still incomplete”. Hrothgar said, looking towards where the fort laid.

“Then his will not be as easy as the last one?” Igor said looking resigned.

“No, no, this could see us both breathing our last…” Hrothgar said grimly.

With a grin on his face Igor runs the whetstone over the curved edge of his new sabre, the blades sings a song, and he plans what to do with his share of the plunder…

____________________________________________________

The Fort

Some of the scouts arrive every now and again, the quickly ushered to the Lord’s tower with news of the encampment just down the road.

Lord Rodmar stood on the tower with Bjarni and Havard the architect, discussing what to do, leave, fight, parley, nothing was ruled out. The fort is not quite ready for an attack let alone a full blown siege.

“We can keep them at a distance with arrows my Lord” Bjarni said, putting on a brave face.

“ My Lord if we had some more time…” Havard said before being cut off by Lord Rodmar.

Lord Road said “It will have to do, we will survive or not, Lord Mikkel will come”.

There is movement in the camp, a horn sounds a long and mournful blast, the news is brought, the fighters armour up, this fort needs more time, more arrows, and a relieving force in the next few days if anyone is to survive.

Ulf and Sverting help each other to put on the armour, they laugh and wish they had made other choices in life.

“Sverting, how did it come to this?” Ulf asked.

“We both heard the call for warriors, they said good pay for a simple guarding job, some travel, good food and dry hay, and we signed up and took the first coins, and here we are.” Sverting replied.

“No, I mean the bigger picture, how did it all begin to go wrong and get to this?” Ulf said.

“This? This is how we make our way in the world. You were always getting into trouble, and I would defend you, which got me into trouble too. It started with you stealing apples from the lord’s orchard…then there was the Miller’s daughter, then the Miller’s wife...and then we had to leave. Us without proper trades and all, I could have taken on my father’s trade as a hedger. Good honest work, out in the fresh air, seeing your work do the job it was meant for year after year…but that was long ago.” Sverting said with tinge of regret in his voice.

“I did nothing wrong, I was just hungry for food and other things.” Ulf replied, his voice raised in pitch and volume, feeling guilty as changed but willing to deny it.

“Well those hungers brought us down many roads, many fights and battles to here. Now help me with my mail shirt, it is a bit snug these days.” Sverting said hefting the riveted mail shirt above his head.

____________________________________________________

The day has come for battle.

The forces are armed and armoured, runners are sent out to check for ambushes and traps.

The vanguard leaves the protection of the ramparts of the encampment, and the rest follow. It is an impressive array of cavalry, infantry, archers and sappers, the equipment is good but not shiny bright, purpose built and ready.

The trees and bushes grow closer to the road, the view is of just green leaf on green leaf, arrows are loosed from the trees, killing or wounding a few but still they come.

Lord Finehaired sent out patrols to the flanks to try and quale the amount of attacks. The archers found on the tracks and byways were quickly ridden down, others simply vanished into the green.

The enemy come in sight of the fort, Lord Finehaired ordered the flag of parley be raised and he and the Igor and Hrothgar move forward, just out of bow shot, and wait for a response.

“Why the parley? Let’s just storm the walls and be down with it.” Hrothgar said.

“It’s like that board game, Knafftafl, it’s all about the end game, but you have to set your pieces right, and plan three moves in advance. So Lord Finehaired has raised the flag of parley and will offer terms, Lord Rodmar will scoff and say “his fort is strong and a relief force is only days away”. Then Lord Finehaired will make various threats about what will happen when the fort falls to us.” Igor explained.

The Lords glare and can be heard shouting back and forth. The offers are rejected by both parties and they both ride away from each other.

“Well that did not go well.” Hrothgar said, adjusting his belt.

“It did go well because now there is commitment from both sides to siege and defend, none of this waffling for days with counter offers. And it means plunder and pillage for us.” Igor said with a smile on his face.

“More plunder is good, I nearly have enough coin and goods to buy that Tavern, “The Black Goose” I have been keeping an eye on.” Hrothgar replied.

“In that case ready your axe, and cover yourself with your shield for arrows will soon rain on us. And I have my new sabre to try but we need to be a bit closer, my arm is long but will not reach anyone from here.” Igor said, drawing the long curved blade.

____________________________________________________

Parley

Lord Rodmar must abide by the rules of war, and opens the sally port and goes with his most trusted warriors, meeting Lord Finehaired in front of the fort. Eyes watched in hope, ears strain to hear the words spoken, the body language is clear, the lords do not like each other and the horses are skittish.

“Finehead, why do you come to this land with armed men and march as to war?” Lord Rodmar bellowed.

Moving closer Lord Finehaired replied “Rodmar, I come on behalf of my overlord to lay claim to this land, its people and all its resources. I am not in haste so I will offer a truce and safe passage for all inside the fort with everything that can be carried off.”

Lord Rodmar thinks “I do not trust Finehead’s word, they have been proven false before, with brutal consequences. I know that if we can prevent the forces of Finehead getting into the fort for at least 3 days that the forces of Lord Mikkel should arrive, attack Lord Finehead flanks, driving them off or crushing them against the ramparts of the fort. This all could be in vain but there is nothing else that can be done.”

“You and your pitiful excuse for an army shall leave this land and make restitution for the killing and pillaging that has been done, I give you one day to leave.” Lord Rodmar replied to the offer.

It was what Lord Finehaired thought would be the outcome, he turned his horse. “You have sealed your fate and all those in the fort Rodmar, and you are a fool”. Lord Finehaired shouted and returned to his own forces.

Lord Rodmar was brave, stubborn but no fool. The attack began.

____________________________________________________

It begins with arrows, it always begins with arrows.

Arrows are loosed from bows, stones a slung from pole slings and javelins tossed, some finding their mark, on both sides. The white fletches of the arrows make them look like spring flowers blooming in the grass surrounding the fort.

On the eastern side of fort there has been some axe and mallet work going on out of bow shot, and a dozen crude ladders have been made. There is a command and the ladder bearers with the shields raised make a mad dash for the embankment, some fall, stricken with a missile, others are quick to take up the ladder. Closer the ladders come.

Lord Rodmar watches the attack and sighs. “Sverting take 10 good men and reinforce the eastern wall and take some of those large wooden forks with you, they should come in handy”.

Down into the ditch, slick clay makes the attacker boots slide and some fall raising laughs from the defenders. The ladders are footed in the base of the ditch and men begin to climb them as they are leaned towards the palisade atop the embankment. And all the while the missiles fly dealing death and injury, slowing but not stopping the escalade.

As the ladders fall towards the wall tops the defends attempt to reach forth with the wooden forks to grab the top rung of the ladders, some are accurate and with the aid of many hands some ladders are pushed backwards, against the efforts of those at the base of the ladder. Some of those men jump for their lives, some men on the ladder hang on and are crushed under the ladder when it falls backwards.

Some of the forks are caught by ropes tossed by those in the ditch, pulling them away from the descending ladders, and hand to hand combat starts at the top of the ladders, the fighting is fierce, those atop the ladder cannot return the way they came because others were climbing behind them, and there way was blocked for fighters defending the loves and lives.

Lord Rodmar curses himself for not making some traction trebuchets, which could have flung rocks further than a bow could be shot. Luckily, the attackers are at a disadvantage because they are exposed to missile fire and spears as they get closer to the wall top.

The din of battle fills the air with overwhelming sense of dread. Sverting stands on the rampart swinging his great two handed axe, chopping down onto helm, shield, hand and ladder, along with Ulf’s spear making crimson wounds where every there was a gap. Ladders and men are broken and flung backwards into the ditch. The rush of the escalade has lost momentum, not enough men and ladders made it to the wall top. The attackers withdraw while still trying to protect themselves from missiles from the fort.

The defenders cheer, and take care of the wounded. Ulf grabs a jug offered by Halla, and looks down at her angrily.

“Halla!, you should not be up here the walls, the archers are too close”. Ulf shouted, concern showing in his eyes as he raised his shield to protect them both.

“There are not safe places in this fort, people have been killed or wounded in the yard below, and you and the others need water or you will perish of it, just as soon as from an arrow or sword”. Halla replied with raised eyebrows.

Ulf new she was right and apologise for scolding here, and handed the jug to Sverting who took and long draft while cuddling his axe shaft. Water dripping down his beard onto his mail shirt.

”Life is to short Ulf, and there are never enough hours in a day to make the hay” winking at Halla and hand the empty jug back. Sverting said.

Halla blushed and moved on along the wall walk with her bucket of water, ducking under the crenels and behind the merlons.

____________________________________________________

The gate.

Work had begun on the beginnings of gatehouse made of two stone circular towers and the bases stood proud above the ground, and would have been able to provide a defensive place that also could provide flanking fire to the abutting walls. Being unfinished they were next to useless, in their place but place further back was a gate and towers of wood and not the best of wood, the local forests were not good at yielding a straight and true log, so they needed much work. And now the attackers turned their focus on the gate.

The attackers formed a testudo of over lapping shields and advance up the road to the gate. As they get closer the missiles rained on the shields. It was worse than a winter hail storm under the shields.

The attackers were supported by their own archers picking off those that raise themselves above the wall top.

Bjarni was using his long bow and newly fletched arrows with accurate effect, aiming for the gaps in the testudo, when Lord Rodmar joined him atop the eastern tower.

“My Lord, I bet a silver coin that they plan to batter a hole in our gate.” Bjarni said with confidence.

“I will not take that wager for now I can see the iron head of the battering ram, slow them down as much as you can. We need to reinforce the gate.” Lord Rodmar replied, then he bellowed orders down into the courtyard.

The defenders on the towers also threw down rocks and logs onto the testudo below, some were deflected, others broke arm bone under shield.

There was a boom and the gate shudded under the impact of the first strike of the iron headed battering ram. The battering ram is small, swung on ropes held by men under the shelter of the shields but it is fit for purpose.

Lord Finehair grimaces as more men fall from the protection of the testudo, and thinks “I should have built a “cat” to protect the battering ram crew, but we have only days to get in and refortify against the reinforcement coming.”

As Lord Rodmar leaves the base of the eastern tower he spies Havard and Bjorn working on bracing the gate with logs. The battering ram makes the gate sound like a great drum, and the vibration is transferred to the flanking towers, it all could come down.

Lord Rodmar orders water to be boiled and hopes the gate will hold.

Cauldrons of boiling water are ready, the cauldrons are passed up to the gate towers by the pulleys, and poured on the testudo, some boiling water finds a gap and the warriors flee in pain, and are then killed by the archers. Still more join the testudo to fill the gaps.

The timbers of the gate are splintering and a gap appears.

Lord Rodmar orders Sverting to lead a charge out the sally port, the testudo is attacked from the west side, the attack is unexpected and many fall to Sverting axe and the battering ram is seized and dragged back inside.

Inside the walls the sallying force gasps for breath, including Ulf and Sverting. Sventing’s axe is broken and is more of a single handed axe now and Ulf’s sabre is red.

The attackers see that the gate is failing and attack the damaged gate with axes and make the holes bigger.

Lord Rodmar has the carts upturned in an arc back from the gate to form and another line of defence. Still the gate is not given up on yet, the extra bracing is holding, just.

To swing an axe so as to cut the timber of the gate you need to swing your arms, exposing your vitals to attack.

Ulf, Sverting, Katra and others stand either side of the widening hole in the gate, waiting. Bjarni lets loose arrows through the holes with deadly effect.

____________________________________________________

The Riven Gate.

Axe blows fall like a heavy spring rain on the gate, it is nearly riven.

Igor and Hrothgar lead the attack on the damaged gate, Igor holds two shields over his friend to protect the other welding the axe.

The gate is shattering under the rain of axes.

On the other side of the gate Ulf sees a mail covered thigh of an axe wielder through a gap in the gate and thrusts into it the leg. The blade strikes deep, there is a scream of pain and anguish. Katra spear shaft is shattered.

Hrothgar yells as a blade pierces his leg and he falls backwards. Igor covers both of them with a shield and moves back through the crush of bodies.

A distant horn sounds to the west.

Lord Finehair astride his horse looks to the west and can see dust rising, too soon, too soon and the gate is nearly shattered, he orders a retreat and leaves the field, leaving the field and ditch littered with the dead or the soon to be.

____________________________________________________

Ulf and Sverting look around, then at each other in joy and relief.

Sverting looks down at his axe. “I will need a new shaft for my axe, this is a bit short.” Sverting said sadly.

Katra looks at the remains of her spear shaft. “I hope I can find my spear head, that is a “Manning of Creswik”.”Katra said just as sad.

Halla push through a gap in the carts and shoulders Sverting out of the way to get to Ulf and plants a warm wet kiss on his lips. Sverting just smiles and wishes he was in Ulf’s place.

Ulf blushes and complains about the “right time and place”. Halla just kisses him more. Sverting laughs hard and others join in the laughing , gorping and pointing fingers.

____________________________________________________

Igor and Hrothgar make it back to camp, the place is in chaos, and there is no one in charge.

“Well your tavern will have to wait for another day Hrothgar.” Igor said.

Hrothgar clutching a big bundle to his chest said. “Maybe not, I think I found the pay chest in Lord Finehair’s tent.

Hrothgar and Igor steal some horses and head to the east.

They will live another day, Igor with a limp for the rest of his life from the spear wound to his leg.

____________________________________________________

The attack had failed, the fort had survived this short siege but only just.

Lord Rodmar sits with Lord Mikkel in front of the fire, cups of wine in their hands, taking stock of the losses, there will need more men and materials to finish the fort. Lord Mikkel would help but it would take another year before this fort was a true castle.

Meanwhile down in the courtyard there is singing and dancing. Ulf and Sverting sit by a fire, a drinking horn in hand, and they smile at each other, raise their horns and praise their luck.

“Well we survived another close one, they nearly got through the gate.” Ulf said.

“We were very lucky that Lord Mikkel turning up when he did, another few axe blows and we would not be here.” Sverting responded.

Ulf raises his horn of mead, “Here’s to luck and love and may it follow us the rest of our lives” roared loudly. Other joined in the toast, and quaff their drinks with gusto because they have survived to drink and be merry another day.

Halla hears the toast and hopes Ulf will be around for a good while to come…

The Ambush

Dated - 27 / 6 / 2016 updated 1 /6/2017

Summary: the further exploits of two of the heroes from "The Siege".

Link to Download a PDF Version

The Ambush.

Script by Stephen F. Wyley

Written 1 / 6 / 2017

web published 2 Jun 2017

The road east was not an easy one, calling it a road would give a goat track pretentious ideas of grandeur, it followed a stream up into the foot hills towards a high pass over the mountains.

Now many feet marched, no it was not marching it was more like weary trudging. Archers, spearman, slingers and swordsmen trudge along the road. They had been so close to winning the siege of the ringfort, the gate was riven, the defenders arrows were spent, then that there was the horn blast coming from the West, its sound signalled the coming of the relieving force.

Igor road with his friend Hrothgar behind the nobles and those lucky enough to find a horse in the chaos of the retreat.

“Hrothgar how is the leg”, asked Igor, clearly worried.

“It’s a bit stiff now, been in the saddle to long, nothing like a good hot bath and good women to fix things”, replied Hrothgar, with a wink.

“This mud is hard going and the wind is cold, I wish it would stop raining it just makes the going harder”, remarked Igor, looking up at the clouds.

Hrothgar looked back at the long line of struggling soldiers said, “At least we are on horseback”.

“Indeed”, Igor said patting the covered chest, smiling. Igor knew there was a long way to go before they could spend their windfall.

Ahead the ford comes into few around a bend in the valley, the way looks clear. The horseman in front churn the water, tossing spray into the air, and then canter up the slope of the road leading out of the valley, to the pass, the road gets steeper and windier from here but it is the only way out, out of danger from any pursuit.

“Igor I don’t like the look of this”, Hrothgar said.

“We have to go this way, the crossing has to be risked, the way behind is barred to us, this path leads to safer lands”, said Igor, looking into the trees.

Many of those afoot remove their shoes and legging to cross the ford, some have set up a fire to cook some rabbits caught earlier. More of the

The Scouts cross and fan out. The lame and the sick are taken across the ford.

That when the arrows start flying. “It’s an AMBUSH!”

It is not certain how many are in front of us but there is an army behind us with cavalry. We must cross and fight our way through. Better together than split by the ford.

There is fighting amongst the trees, there are only a few archers, we cross the ford and join the other already crossed.

So archers volunteer to cover the ford as there is thunder like a far off storm. The first horses are sighted coming out of the trees.

We move the more faster knowing safety is not yet obtained but not unattainable.

The archers wait until their marks are clear then they let loose and men and horse scream and fall.

Those remaining cavalry wheel away for the biting arrows and to a safer distance. More cavalry coming into view. A standard flaps in the wind, a red cat or a lion and green field shows as the wind changes direction.

The archers withdraw from sight.

The path is steep and windy, even cavalry would have trouble charging if stoutly defended.

The last to leave says goodbye to an old friend who took an arrow while crossing the ford...

Where is the rest of the crew?

Dated - May 2010

Summary: you wake up and your world is turned up side, things are not what you thought they were, and strange things do happen.

Link to Download a PDF Version

Where is the rest of the crew?

By Stephen Francis Wyley

Written 22 / 05 / 2010

web published 18 Dec 2016

Scene 1, an attic, dusty, cluttered.

Phil, a mild mannered, middle management public servant, not quite at retirement age but regretting not putting more into superannuation, comes across a strange box in his attic storage while putting in roof insulation.

The box is a black cube, a 14 cm cube in fact, with no discernable lid, lock or even hinges.

Phil sets the box on an old table, places his right hand on the box, he remembers a box but is not sure why. There is a discernable click and flash of light…

Scene 2. a largish room but it is dark

Phil: “Hello”.

Humming.

Pilot: “Greetings Commander”

Phil: “Who and where are you?”

Pilot: “I am the Pilot Commander and I am here on the command deck”

Phil: “Why are you referring to me as ‘Commander’ and what is your name?”

Pilot: “You are the Commander of this vessel and my name is ‘Pilot’.”

The lights come on around the command deck and Pilot is revealed.

Phil: “Pilot, where are we?”

Pilot: “We are inside your vessel which is in orbit above your place of residence. And we can not be seen because of the shields of the vessel.”

Phil: “How can I be the Commander of this vessel when I have never been in space?”

Pilot: “You have always been the Commander of this vessel as long as I have been its Pilot, and that has been many rotations around this star. And it appears you have chosen to forget what you once where.”

Phil: Phil’s mind is doing cartwheels. “Me!”

“Am I human?”

Pilot: “Yes”.

Phil: “Am I from Earth?”

Pilot: “Yes”.

Phil: “The where did the ship come from?

Pilot: “The ship was constructed in orbit of the planet Nieklot in the solar system 7*108 parsecs from galactic centre on the opposite spiral arm”.

Phil: “How did I become Commander of this vessel?”

Pilot: “According to the records you were chosen from a large number of candidates and appointed by the Imperial Council. A great honour for a creature with so few limbs and such small brain casing.”

Phil: Thinks to himself – small brain casing! What about the rest of…?

“Where is the rest of the crew?”

Pilot: “On Earth of course, just as you were”.

Phil: “Where exactly on Earth are the crew?”

Pilot: “Please turn to your right and observe the display”.

A flat world map appears on the wall showing green dots spread about the Earth. Some where spread out but stationary on various continents, a couple were moving across the map quite fast, ah they where on planes. There were hundreds!

Phil’s mind is ticking over the various possibilities, combinations and permutations.

Phil: “What are we doing on Earth and for what purpose?”

Pilot: “Observing your fellow humans. The purpose of this mission is determine if the humans of Earth should be left to their own destruction or allowed to leave their dying world.”

Phil: “Dying world?”

Pilot: “Was that a question or a statement.”

Phil: “A question, it was a question.”

Pilot: “Yes”.

Phil: “Dying from what?”

Pilot: “A number of things, it is inevitable, even to my un-trained eyes. Resource depletion, the water wars to come, climate control dysfunction, loss of habitat, exponential development of uncontrollable deadly diseases, shall I go on?...”

Phil: Knew a lot of these things already given his position in the government, he felt so impotent. Things were starting to click in his deep subconscious, flashes of memory showed.

“What do I have to do?”

Pilot: “Recall the crew and make your decision”.

Phil: “How do I contact them all?”

Pilot: “Open Facebook on your communicator and sent up an event invitation”.

Phil: “A what!”

Pilot: “Your crew are part of your friends on Facebook, previously they were contactable on a yahoo group, prior to that it was an email listing, on so on.”

Phil: “All of them?”

Pilot: “Most of them, not Francis and Louise, they are just friends of yours. It is a big ship”.

Phil: “What should I write?”

Pilot: “Something along the lines of:

Event Name: Space Party

Location: Space

When: Friday evening, 7pm start.

Bring: Overnight bag.

That should do the job”.

Phil: “Thank you Pilot”.

Pilot: “You are welcome Commander”.

Friday evening comes, most have replied, some have truly forgotten their purpose. Pilot beams them up.

Their faces look around in wonder, some nod in recognition of where they are.

Phil: My friends welcome to space, make yourselves comfortable while I tell you a story…

Zombie Shuffle

Dated - May 2010

Summary: a short screenplay on the glorification of Zombinism.

Link to Download a PDF Version

Zombie Shuffle

By Stephen Wyley

Written 22 / 5 / 2010

web published 18 Dec 2016

Scene 1.

Suburban house, a groups of friends are helping each other to get into costume and make up for the Zombie Shuffle.

Scene 2.

The Zombies start to congregate at the appointed meeting place and on the signal begin their shuffle along the prescribed route watched by amazed on lookers, Japanese tourist taking pictures and disinterested horse carriage drivers.

Scene 3.

A stranger watches the Zombie Shuffle make it is way past his perch, talks to himself, comes up with a plan, and pulls out weapons from under his long coat and attacks the shuffling Zombies.

However, they are real people just out for a bit of fun and the murder and mayhem ensues. Some brave souls jump the stranger and he us subdued until police arrive.

Scene 4.

Back in time at the start of the day at the mental institution.

It turns out the Stranger has been released from a local mental institution on a supervised release program, and he had slipped his minder.

Scene 5.

A women (Goth) reads an headline on other persons newspaper.

The State Governments response: to ban people from dressing up as Zombies and shuffle in an organised manner.